Before the advent of written notation music was passed from generation to generation by rote, and improvisation, the art of creating music spontaneously, was commonplace. During the Baroque period, when notation first became standardised, the skill was still highly valued and studied by everyone learning to play an instrument (as were secondary subjects, such as figured basses). Even in the Classical period, when composers were more specific than ever about how their pieces were to be played, improvisation flourished.
For classical musicians its heyday came during the nineteenth century, when virtuoso pianist-composers such as Liszt regularly made grown women swoon. 'In order to enliven my concerts, which were reproached with being too serious,' he wrote in the summer of 1837, 'I had the idea of offering to improvise on themes chosen by acclamation.' And sure enough, had you attended one of his recitals you might well have been invited to place a piece of paper into an urn, suggesting a tune that you'd like to hear him improvise upon.
(Indeed, you may well have spoken to the maestro himself as he mingled with friends in the audience. Players would often give themselves breaks in this way. Likewise, until the early twentieth century audiences would interrupt performances with signs of noisy approval, talk during quiet passages and shout out to demand that enjoyable flourishes be repeated. What a contrast with today's concerts, where audiences are warned that they must not make any noise and artists perform, grim-faced, as though dispensing holy writ!)
While the hit tunes of Bellini and Donizetti dominated the most popular requests, pianists were invited to extemporise their musical thoughts on everything from the dome of Milan's cathedral to, in one instance, whether it was better to be married or remain single (to which Liszt quipped, "Whichever course one chooses, one is sure to regret it!"). Today, however, improvisation has largely been excluded from classical recitals, and in many ways jazz musicians have become the inheritors of Liszt's improvising legacy.
Only a handful of high-profile classical musicians have been able to break away from the printed page and improvise in jazz or other idioms. André Previn, Richard Rodney Bennett, Wayne Marshall, Nikolai Kapustin, Friedrich Gulda and Gabriela Montero spring to mind. Likewise, very few well-known jazz pianists have successfully crossed over into classical territory. Those that have include Keith Jarrett, Chick Corea, Dave Brubeck and Bill Evans (who could sight-read Bach to perfection, but always in private).
Why Bother?
Anyone familiar with the infinitely subtle nuances of jazz will understand why the number of successful 'crossover' performers is so low. Conversely, or perhaps perversely, thousands of young pianists progress through their graded examinations without ever deliberately deviating from the written note. Liszt's impromptu thoughts on Milanese architecture might be an extreme example, but why do so many pianists (novices and old hands alike) feel so uncomfortable with improvising? And why should they bother anyway?
Teachers spend much of their time ensuring that their students are playing the right notes, but this can be a barrier to playing fluently and with conviction. Just imagine being able to read books, but not to have a conversation! Improvising is to interpretation what conversation is to reading prose. It encourages continuity and creativity in our playing, and a natural empathy with the keyboard. Effective improvisers also often have a well-developed musical style, which means that they can respond to pieces spontaneously.
The gap between interpretation and improvisation is not as wide as is sometimes thought. In a piece of Chopin, for example, the only parameters that are generally fixed are the notes. Everything else is open to interpretation (the dynamics, tempo, pedalling, ornamentation, phrasing, articulation and so on). There are guidelines for all of these, but the particular volume of a forte or the timing of a ritardando will always be up to the performer and fast, instinctive responses are needed to balance these parameters well.
This continuous chain of action-consequence-response, which becomes more practiced with time but no less improvised, can be improved by freely inventing the elements of a musical performance in real time. Try setting aside any notion of 'right' or 'wrong' notes and focusing on those elements which are usually thought of as secondary. Allow yourself to do whatever you like at the keyboard, but with each 'piece' try to think consciously of only one of the following: speed, pedalling, dynamics, range, melody or harmony.
Improvisation doesn't lend itself well to straightforward instruction, and a lot of supposedly practical guidance could just as well be used in a handbook for composition. The Venezuelan concert pianist Gabriela Montero has developed her improvisational skills largely through playing by ear as a child, and denies any theoretical study of the subject. She has spoken in interviews of 'just letting it happen', which seems to me to be a helpful mindset. It also illustrates two of the most important principles of improvisation.
Five-a-Side
The first is not to stop. Instead of analysing or 'correcting' your playing as you go, save your reflection for afterwards. Think of 'wrong' notes as welcome chance elements which broaden your imagination's horizons, and don't worry if the sounds in your head don't match the sounds you hear. The second principle is to remain alert but slightly detached. Think of your fingers as the players in a game of football, and yourself as the coach observing from the sidelines. Your job is to guide the action, but not to directly interfere.
When improvising a melody or developing a given theme, less is often more and limitations (such as modes) can be helpful. A surprising number of well-known melodies are based on just three or four notes, and harmony must be thought of as an extension of melody rather than an add-on. Perhaps you could resist the temptation of using left hand triad accompaniments, and start with a single note in the bass and parallel thirds in the right hand? As jazz musicians know, it takes flexibility for improvisation to create beauty!
Asking children to 'just play anything' usually results in blank stares. I find it much more effective to provide musical starting points for them to respond to, for example a graphic, a musical 'question' or a notated stimulus. I might improvise a short question (just one or two bars in length) and ask them to respond with an answer. We start with a simple crotchet rhythm before gradually increasing the difficulty, and always try to bring the music to a natural close. It's a fun and effective alternative to warming up with scales.
Flash cards are another good way of encouraging children to improvise. I've made a set of cards, each with a simple single image (for example a wavy line, a star or a big coloured blob). The idea is they play a sound which represents the image on the card, and we analyse the result by discussing their choice of pitch, duration and dynamics. Another variation is to arrange the cards in a sequence to make a short piece of music and give it a title. We also create pieces using musical starting points, such as simple rhythms or triads.
Faces work well, too. Try drawing two faces on a piece of paper, one happy and one sad, then guessing which the child is thinking about as they improvise. It's a great way of introducing concepts like dynamics, tempo, articulation and pitch (as is illustrating different weather conditions!). Whatever our age we can all learn to improvise, and if we do the quality of our playing, and the pleasure we get from playing, will increase enormously. There's really nothing quite like having the freedom to make your own music.
