Author: timothysimmons

A drone happens when a person holds a sustained note or chord. Drones are magical in many ways, but mostly because they create a blanket of sound. The sound of a drone acts as almost like a body of water, like the sea, and players can make other sounds that sometimes appear to sound as if they are drifting or floating above sound of the drone. Also, since drones are composed of only one note or chord, there are no chord changes to keep track of. Although the tonic of the chord being played on the drone signifies a key, solos performed by players do not have to follow any specific key. In fact, they have the freedom to drift in and out of the various modes of the key, and the more “wrong” notes they play, the more their ears begin to learn how to identify sounds that go within any particular key. In addition, players learn how to “massage” wrong notes, meaning that they can slide a “wrong” note up or down only a half-step, and it automatically becomes part of the key. Consequently, sliding back and forth between the “wrong” note and the “right” one creates a melody in and of itself. The players begin to hear that all notes are “right” because the “rightness” of any note depends on the relationship it has with the other notes around it, and any note can be made to have a beautiful relationship with the other notes around it when they are used as part of rhythmically charged, repeating melodic lines. In the same manner, advanced players can use drones to explore harmonizing.

Here’s how it works:

As the leader, create a drone. The drones I like to use are often composed of only one note. If I use a chord, I tend to drift towards major chords. These tend to work well with young musicians who are just learning the ways in which musical notes work together. I prefer to use D Major or C Major. I prefer to make drones with an accordion because it also allows me to also create solos over my own drone that can act as models for the students, but they can also be created just by holding down a few notes on a keyboard. Another simple way to make a drone is to pluck one guitar string over and over again. Invite two or three others participate in the improvisation, and each takes a turn soloing. A solo happens when a player plays one note. They simply play one note, and then slide it up or down until it sounds pleasing to them when heard over the drone. Then, once they find a note that works for them, they simply add a second and a third and a fourth note. They can keep stringing tones together until they have a melody. This process is very similar to the one described in “The Charm Bracelet” from Unit One. Once the musicians have discovered a melody, they can repeat it, and thus create a groove, or they can shift to a new melody. Since the drone has no groove to it, the players do not have to worry about synchronizing with a beat. They can play freely; drifting in and out of whatever time they are feeling in the moment. When each player has completed their solo, they are to repeat themselves. They can repeat the last melody they created, or they can simply repeat one note over and over again. Their repetition signals to the next player that it is their turn to solo.

It is important to note that once a player creates a repeating melody, they have also created a groove, and the other players usually have to adhere to that groove by synchronizing their melodies to it. Therefore, it is usually helpful to have one player volunteer play a pulse on a drum in order to help students synchronize more easily. Of course, each player can simply play their solo and then end, offering their silence and listening ears to the other players in the improvisation as well. This way, they allow the improvisation to remain free of the structures imposed by periodic rhythm.

Another variation of this form can happen this way. The first player in the ensemble begins by playing a solo completely unaccompanied, not even by a drone. As their solo comes to an end, they settle on one note and hold that note as a drone. Once that player has created a drone, it is the signal to the next player to solo over the drone that now exists. As each player ends their solo, they add to the drone. In this way, the ending note of each solo creates a chord that acts as a drone. At some times, this can be a dissonant chord, and at others the players will prefer to adjust so that the chord is more pleasing. Once they are all droning, the form can either end or continue. If it continues, it does so in the same way as the original form.

This form is intended to help players connect the events of Serafine’s story to their playing. Essentially, the goal is to practice the skill of creating or finding the pulse within a given rhythm, and to improvise around it.

Here’s how it works:

For this exercise, you’ll need noisemakers of some kind – egg shakers, birdcalls, whistles, rain sticks, or bells. Hand out noisemakers and ask players to stand in a circle. Begin by setting the stage. They are going to imitate the sound of night in the rainforest. To help, I ask them to close their eyes and listen to an audio recording of the sound of insects in the forest at night. We listen for at least a good five minutes, and while they listen, I ask them to pick out any repeated patterns they can discern in the chaotic noise of the insects at night. Can they hear the ways in which the insects repeat each other, call and respond to each other, and create rhythms with their songs?

After listening for a few minutes, invite players to begin to imitate the sounds they hear by using their noisemakers. Then, simply groove away. As the playing in the space inevitably gets louder, turn off the recorded sounds. The goal is for participants to create rhythms together using their noisemakers and by imitating and communicating with each other. It’s nice to have a variety of sounds – birdcalls, cricket noisemakers, shakers, and bells, so that you can really imitate the variety of sounds in the rainforest.

After a few minutes of jamming like this, we follow up with a brief discussion about the rhythms of the forest at night, and the ways in which they affected Serafine in the story. I take care to point out how she began responding to the rhythm by moving her body. Finding the pulse in her body was essential to her being able to respond to it and join in the groove. This is the same concept we apply to all elements of rhythm in our musicianship and in our improvising with other musicians. First, we have to get the pulse into our bodies, and only then can we begin to respond to it, and create our own rhythmic dance with the it.

Players often need to get out of their head and into their body. One way of doing this is by getting them to stop counting. Associating rhythm with simple words frees players to think less about timing and more about the feel of the rhythm.

Here’s how it works:

There are only three main “Fruit Loops”: “Apple”, “Watermelon”, and “Strawberry”. Let’s begin by looking at “Watermelon”. “Watermelon” has four syllables in it. Each syllable counts for one beat. A “Watermelon Groove”, counted WA-TER-MEL-ON, is just another way of counting fours. A “Strawberry Groove” is counted STRAW-BER-RY – making a triple feel, and a simple duple feel is an “Apple Groove” – AP-PLE.

            Once players seem comfortable with using the three main “Fruit Loops” to count time, you can begin introducing ways of combining the “Fruit Loops” together to make interesting combinations. Want to play a sing in 7/8 time? Fancy! Try AP-PLE/AP-PLE/STRAW/BER-RY. How about 5/4? AP-PLE/STRAW-BER-RY. Look at you! If you want to get really sophisticated, play around with where you accent the syllables to create interesting permutations.

The most dramatic of these permutations happens when you combine two different “Fruit Loops” simultaneously. To do this, start by dividing the group in half. Ask one half to say the word “Watermelon” rhythmically and clearly. Then, invite them to hit their drum on “WA” and their thighs on the other three syllables. This creates a simple 4/4 pulse. Then, invite the second half to do the same, but with “Strawberry”. They will hit their drum on “STRAW” and their thighs on the other two beats, creating a pulse in three. Now both pulses are happening at the same time. If each half can commit to their pulse and not adjust to what is happening around them an incredible groove begins to emerge. The accented beats will synchronize with each other every four cycles through the individual patterns, creating what I like to call a “Big One”. Have the players shout their first syllable out loud as loudly as they can when that “Big One” comes around. Then, their pulses slowly separate and converge again. If the group becomes comfortable with this polyrhythm, invite them to add their own ideas into the mix, while still maintaining the “Big One”. If you can get your players to that point, the improvisation that can result is astounding!

One thrilling aspect of this polyrhythmic exercise is the way it pushes the mental capacity of the players in really profound ways. They must essentially tune out what the rest of the group is playing in order to maintain their pulse. And yet, at the same time, they have to take a kind of helicopter view of the overall groove so that they can keep their focus on creating the resultant polyrhythm. In other words, they have to listen and not listen at the same time!

You could also vary this exercise by doing with everyone standing in a circle. Divide the circle into two halves, and invite each half to say their fruit word – “watermelon” or “strawberry”. Instead of hitting a drum on the first syllable of their given word, each person jumps and lands with a big stomp on the down beat of that first syllable. This is a much more physical, embodied version of the exercise that can really wake the group up.

The music always seemed to be the loudest in the summer. That was because the industrial-strength air conditioner was humming away in the window above the sink. She couldn’t stand the heat, and so she spent most of her days in that kitchen. She was either breading boneless breasts of chicken in crushed up Saltines or stirring the meat sauce for one of her enormous batches of meatballs. And she almost was one herself: four-foot ten. I used to tease her that she could pose for trophies. At that height, she stood only a foot or two above the stove. This worked out perfectly for her, though, as it placed her directly in front of the air conditioner vents spewing out climate-controlled air-cooled to a brisk sixty-six degrees.  Climbing the back steps, I could hear the air conditioner buzzing the window frame, the back-door swinging heavily on the frame as I entered through the dimly lit laundry room. The kitchen was separated from there by another swinging door, and I could hear my mother singing.

That kitchen never left the 1970’s. Orange ceilings with brown and yellow plaid wallpaper, the floors rutted with dents from the aluminum chairs framing the table. As I entered, I was immediately blasted by the cold, chemical breath of the air conditioner; so loud that everyone speaks in a mild scream in order to be heard. But that’s not the only reason we have to scream. Part of my mother’s daily cooking ritual was her music. She liked it loud. She wanted to feel the drums beating in her chest as she moved to it, using a spoon as her microphone. She used to sing as loudly as she could. She knew the noise bothered my father, and this made her smile even more – she was a bit of a trickster. The music that came out of her mouth and emanated from her body was a form of joy. The music made her move, and the noise of it all was intoxicating.

Growing up, I loved to be in that air-conditioned kitchen. My earliest memories of music lie there. Even though my mother is no longer here, deep inside my mind, there is a corner papered in orange and plaid, freezing in the climate-control, and she is there too, moving to the sound of the drums. It is pure joy.

This exercise is a nice variation on “The Infinity Loop”.

Here’s how it works:

Begin with three or four players. The first player establishes a groove and plays a repeated pattern. Then, one at a time, each player enters the improvisation, either imitating or adding something new. Once each member of the group has entered, allow a few minutes to groove in that space. Then, the first player makes a change. They might want to add a few new notes and take the original melody into new harmonic territory, or they may want to change the tempo by speeding up or slowing down. Once they make this change, each player now changes with them, one at a time. So, player two now imitates or adds something new to this new groove, and around we go. Each time the entire ensemble has adjusted, player one changes again. In this way, each player is listening for the changes to come, engaged in the music and on edge of their seats ready for the new elements to be added. This form is a nice way to introduce the idea of melodic soloing, because each new element can also be seen as a solo played by each individual player.

This is the most fundamental of all the improvised forms that I use. When I teach this form to my younger age students, I like to use diatonically tuned wooden xylophones, because they are simple to use, and since they are all tuned to the key of C Major, the students can hit pretty much any note, and it will sound pleasing when accompanied by the other xylophones. When working with my more advanced students, I like to allow them to choose which instruments they want to use.

Here’s how it works:

Form a group of typically three to four players. Sometimes you can add a fifth or even a sixth, but it really works best to do with a group no larger than four, but no smaller than three. A duet completely changes the dynamics of this form. Before beginning, I ask the players to decide who will begin the improvisation. Once they have decided, that person begins. They are to play around on their instrument totally freely until they stumble onto a melody that they simply like. Remember that every melody begins with one Authentic Sound. If your student asks you, “How do I create a melody?” just remind them to make one authentic sound, and then another, and another. Then they repeat that melody, thus creating a “hook”, or repeating pattern. This is the “Infinity Loop”.  They are to keep playing this pattern while the rest of the improvisation develops. As each member of the group joins, they will each also play their own “Infinity Loop”. It is important to note that while they are doing this, the other students are waiting, not playing anything. They are listening carefully to the music that is being created. This listening is incredibly important because it sends a supportive signal to the soloist, and it also provides the listeners the chance to get some important information about what they will be able to play once they join the improvisation.

Once this first player has found a melody and is repeating it, they nonverbally signal the next player. As this next player joins the improvisation, they have two choices. They may imitate what the first player is doing, or they may add something new. I try to keep this direction as simple as possible. If they choose to imitate, it does not necessarily mean that they are to play exactly what the first player is playing. This might be very difficult to do, especially if they are just learning their instrument, or, as if often the case, they are improvising on an instrument they have little to no experience playing at all! Imitation simply means that they recreate something of what the previous player is playing. They might recreate the rhythm of the original melody, or they may recreate a few notes of it. Advanced players like to imitate exactly what they hear, but this requires fluency on an instrument. If they choose to add something new, this simply means that they may add to the original melody. They might want to add something that acts as counterpoint, either harmonically or rhythmically, or they might want to add a new melody that can intertwine with the original. The point here is that they can add whatever they want. It’s important not to bog the players down in too much direction about what “add something new” means.

Once every player has joined the improvisation, things start to get really interesting. Now it is time for the solos to begin! Each player gets to take a turn soloing over the groove that they have all created. A solo simply means that they are saying something new in this musical conversation. They might play a little louder or faster, or they might add a new melody. While each player is soloing, the other players in the ensemble must act as support. This means two things. Most importantly, it means that they are providing rhythmic support. Their playing, even when not played on drums, must be rhythmically predictable to follow, otherwise the soloist will have no foundation on which to build, and will also have great difficulty knowing when to end their solo. The other role of the support players is to provide dynamic support, so that the soloist can be heard and highlighted appropriately. This might mean that they play more softly. On the other hand, it might mean that, as the soloist gets more intense, their playing might intensify as well. In this way, they are showing the soloist that they are listening to what they are playing and that they are one hundred percent with them. In this way, each player gets to practice the role of soloist and support player.

All music begins with one authentic sound. That is all there is to it, really. If you can make one authentic sound, then you have begun to make music. And if you can make one sound, why not two, or three? And if you have made three sounds, why then you’ve begun to create a melody!

Here’s how it works:

Stand with your feet firmly planted on the ground. If you are comfortable, close your eyes. Allow your hands to drop calmly at your sides. In this moment, get in touch with how you’re feeling. What do you feel right now? Do you feel tired, excited, angry, hungry, or maybe a little bit of everything? Whatever it is, say it in your mind to yourself. I feel … Now, take a deep breath. When you exhale, put all of your feeling into that breath. This is one authentic breath. All music is sound, and sound happens when vibration occurs, and vibration happens when air moves, so let’s start moving the air around a little. Take another breath. Again, when you exhale, put all of your feeling into that breath. Do it again. Good!

Now, to add a sound to your breath, you are going to sigh. Embrace what your body and mind are feeling in this moment right now, and when you exhale, sigh loudly. Put all of your feeling into that sigh. Don’t be afraid to really let it all hang out, but also try to resist the urge to be silly about it. Be honest about what you’re feeling. Be authentic. 

If I could draw a picture of a “sigh”, it might look like a line graph that is aiming down. My line might begin at a high point on the page, and descend gradually down towards the bottom of the page. Let’s use this quality of sighing to turn our sighs into authentic, musical sounds. Breath in again. And again, embrace what you’re feeling right now, in this moment, whatever it is. Now, when you exhale, begin by sighing, but this time, as your sound slides down like a sigh, stop sliding when you settle on a pitch that is comfortable for you to sing.  Hold that pitch until your breath runs out. Again, resist the urge to be silly, and don’t try to hold it for as long as you can. Just hold the note for as long you can comfortably make a pitch. As you did with your breathing and sighing, do this three times. Each time, allow your voice to make a different pitch.

You can also try this exercise with your instrument.

Try closing your eyes, grasping your instrument, and blindly making a sound. Then make another. As you make each sound, listen very deeply. When you find two sounds that work well together, in that they sound pleasing to you, repeat them. Then, one sound at a time, add to your sound. Release yourself from rules about key structures, harmonics, or chord changes. Just allow the music to tell you what to play, one quality sound at a time.