I started playing the violin when I was four years old. When I moved to New York in my 20’s, I had the honor of studying privately with Julie Lyonn Lieberman, a gifted teacher who specialized in teaching classical violinists how to improvise.
We started out with the circle of fifths, which felt like learning the ABCs for the first time. We moved on to Irish folk songs (the foundation of blues), then blues, then Jazz.
Eventually I was playing with a “dreamy rock band” called Edison Woods and performing at places like The Knitting Factory, Joe’s Pub and La Sala Rosa. And recording this album (check out track 8). Here’s us circa 2003 in Williamsburg. So serious!
Learning how to improvise is about working through fear.
It takes a ridiculous amount of bravery to express music without a script, in real time and in front of your bandmates and audience (Joe’s Pub!).
And for me, it meant learning to trust that there was music inside of me at all.
When I would show up for my weekly lessons at my teacher’s Upper West Side studio, I was full of work stress (late-90’s advertising), most likely hungover (late-90’s advertising), and obsessed with boy drama (late-90’s advertising). I was lucky she let me keep coming.
One particular lesson that still stands out to me today is this:
The quality of your music begins before you even lift your violin to your shoulder.
One day, Julie asked me to pick up my violin and start playing. Then stop and put the instrument down.
Next, she said to think about my lower back, then lift the violin and bow into position, and start playing.
Over
and over
and over.
The shift in the quality of sound was unmistakable when I paid attention to my lower back.
I didn’t really get it then, but now I do: By thinking about my lower back, I was creating an intention about my music before the vibration of the strings began.
Writing Warm-Up:
What are you bringing to the keyboard today?
Are your fingers thinking they should really be washing the dinner dishes? Are they shaky from stress or indecision? Are they insecure about what is going to come out today? Are they too wrapped up in how long it’s been since they last touched the keys for something that really mattered? Are they impatient?
Stop. Breathe. Light a candle or drink a glass of water. Find a ritual that works for you.
Let go of what happened before and what might come after.
Good.
Now put your hands in your lap. Take a breath. Think about your lower back as you lift your arms to your keyboard.
Do it again a few times.
Good.
Now start improvising.
I absolutely love the intersection of big/small in this wisdom you’re sharing here. Trusting that the music was inside you – so big and profound and inspiring! Thinking about your lower back before you start – so specific and applicable, and equally inspiring! I just wrote on my site about the importance of intention when starting out on a process of creative recovery, and this lower back pause is such an interesting version of it… Do you ever try playing/writing and thinking about a different body part, or is it always your lower back?