Say something brilliant

Say something brilliant

I’m thinking about recording a new album. Solo piano. It will be free. How do you plan that?

Quietly. And maybe with more than a little bit of curiosity. Sometimes I imagine a place. A city I know very well. Where I can close my eyes, spin around, and know exactly where I am when I open them. And other times, it is not a familiar thing at all.

I wanted to record in New York, for the dynamics and the tempo, one would assume. That would be understandable. Except, does it matter? And even if it did, could I transport my entire spectrum of expression into a new point of reference –momentarily, artificially?

It would be cool to try.

There is a sound that I’m thinking of, pure and clear. Almost bell-like, a texture like glass, or finely cut crystal. There is silence, a kind of joyous waiting in anticipation of the next moment; a tangible understanding of the present. You are there, listening, following along across the invisible page of imagination. All of us, together in one continuum of realizing where we are, right now. And the context and relationship of the past. A searching expectation of the future.

When the music is truly free, without determinate structures, frameworks, prompts, score fragments, the real beauty is in the collective journey, the discovery of who we are, where we have been, and inevitably where we will be.

It is not music alone. It is breathing and laughing, holding and looking, on a deeper level.

Here in St. Louis, we need to do this more.