Who's Afraid of Improvisation?

The idea that improvisation is inherently wrong or inferior to composed music is so foreign to me that I have trouble taking it seriously.  I've always felt that improvisation and composition are different animals: the skills involved in composing and improvising are different; the time frames of their production are different; their social position and the criteria used to judge them should be different - ultimately, neither threatens or cheapens the other; although in the right cultural circumstances, they can be allies.

I find support for this long-held view in this week's readings.  Paul Hegarty's account of the development of punk begins by describing "the Bataillean sense of a dialectical history where disruption is always present, noise always coming in, then dissipating." (Noise/Music p.89).  Indeed, the musical movements we've read about this week - from free jazz to free improv, prog, punk, avant, and no wave - support a dialectical view of the formation of noise-inclusive genres.  With seemingly increasing speed, what was once transgressive becomes accepted, becomes canonical, becomes commodified; society requires new forms of transgression to make it aware of itself, its excesses and taboos, and the loss of individuation at the hands of the culture industry that Adorno so presciently lamented.  We see certain musicians trying to keep up with this demand by changing themselves and their musical output - Derek Bailey describes a gradual process of free improvisers moving further and further away from "the inherited improvising langauge" (Audio Culture p. 259); the Sex Pistols challenge their own audience in Public Image Limited, which Hegarty characterizes as "a punk rejection of punk." (Noise/Music p. 97)

Despite these efforts on the part of performers to remain on the edge of cultural transgression, it stands to reason that one group or method alone - either composed or improvised - cannot answer the accelerating demand for musical transgression and its attendant questioning of the status quo.  At this particular moment in music history, it seems to me that many improvisers and composers I know have at least one major goal in common: though they may not say it explicitly and their means may differ, it seems that they seek, among other things, maximal individuation of sounds, forms, and musical events - a celebration of the infinitely varied and of the Benjaminian concept of aura; a protest of the uniform and commercialized.  Seeking this individuation through improvisation - an art that unfolds in the immediate temporality of live performance as the performer interacts directly with the capabilities and constraints of his or her instrument - seems quite logical (e.g. http://www.myspace.com/peterevanstrumpet - especially "Xangu" and "end of the world button").  But many scored pieces use types of notation or ask for nigh-impossible combinations of elements that force performers to make technical choices and sacrifices in real time, ensuring a unique realization each time the work is attempted (e.g. Brian Ferneyhough's "Time and Motion Study II," Aaron Cassidy's string quartet, etc.).  Still other composed works rely on spatialization or acoustic phenomena that make the exact sound of any instance of the work location-contingent.

Musicans who wish to make art in full awareness of the homogenizing power of the culture industry can't afford to reject either composition or improvisation (sorry, Adorno).  Each has a role to play in answering the constant need for new theses in ever-evolving dialectic of sonic opposition to mainstream culture.