Name: Chris Gall
Occupation: Pianist, composer, improviser
Nationality: German
Current release: Chris Gall's new album Impressionists Improvised is out via GLM.

If you enjoyed this Chris Gall interview and would like to know more about his music, visit his official homepage. He is also on Instagram, and Facebook.



Do you think that some of your earliest musical experiences planted a seed for your interest in improvisation?

Funnily not. I had classical piano lessons for almost 10 years before I became interested in improvising.

My teacher was wonderful, and I am grateful for the opportunity to study with her, but my training was conservative classical training, and there was no place for playing freely and experimenting.

When did you first consciously start getting interested in musical improvisation? Which artists, teachers, albums or performances involving prominent use of improvisation captured your imagination in the beginning?

When I was 14, Lionel Hampton came to my hometown with his big band. I believe that was the first jazz concert I’ve heard, and I was blown away!

I had no clue what he was doing. By that time, he was already very old and not able to walk anymore; he almost had to be carried to his vibraphone. But once he was at his instrument, he was like a teenager. I was super impressed by the energy and the virtuosity.

Shortly after that, I started improvising in a high school jazz ensemble and bought my first jazz records: Dave Brubeck's Greatest Hits and Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue.

As this was all I had, I listened to these two records all day long for months!

Tell me about your instrument and/or tools, please. What made you seek it out, what makes it “your” instrument, and what are some of the most important aspects of playing it?

As I am also a film composer, I am professionally working with all kinds of digital music production tools.

Nevertheless, for an album like Impressionists Improvised, I'll use nothing else but my piano for preparation. Even the recomposed parts are written with pencil and paper.

I just love to sit at the piano with nothing in between me and the instrument. It’s like the last bastion of an analogue world to me.

Derek Bailey defined improvising as the search for material which is endlessly transformable. What kind of materials have turned to be particularly transformable and stimulating for you?

Often, I look for rhythmic structures in the music. In Impressionists Improvised, I was surprised how many elements in Debussy’s music are transformable to contemporary grooves.

In my adaption of “Reverie,” I established a 7/8 ostinato pattern throughout the first part of the piece. This was a lot of fun!



Do you feel as though there are at least elements of composition and improvisation which are entirely unique to each? Based on your own work or maybe performances or recordings by other artists, do you feel that there are results which could only have happened through one of them?

Composing is like the work of an architect - or vice versa.

Ideally, you have a vision in your mind, and you’re sitting in front of a canvas or in front of your instrument. Then, you start to work on what you are looking for, whether it takes hours, days, or weeks. You can work on the material until you are satisfied, and it’s all up to you.

In improv, it’s completely different. You only have the very moment you are in to develop an idea. And going through the process of finding, establishing, and developing a musical idea is part of the fascination of improvised music.

Think of Keith Jarret’s Köln Concert. He takes his time to develop his ideas, and the listener becomes part of that process.



When you're improvising, does it actually feel like you're inventing something on the spot – or are you inventively re-arranging patterns from preparations, practise or previous performances? What balance is there between forgetting and remembering in your work?

It’s true; it can feel like a dilemma sometimes. Often, I fight against simply “re-playing“ something I’ve done before. And trying to avoid elements or patterns in music can be a creativity-killer …

I love to think that your unconsciousness is the true improviser! Whatever you have experienced in life or on stage, whatever scales, rhythms, shapes, or soundscapes you have practised, if you let your mind go, your unconsciousness can bring it all together, influenced by your individual state of mind and character.

Are you acting out parts of your personality in your improvisations which you couldn't or wouldn't through other musical approaches? If so, which are these? What, would you say, are the key ideas behind your approach to improvisation?

This is what I mean: if you can let your mind go on stage (which also takes a lot of practice and confidence), your personality has the chance to shine through. With all the experiences only you have made.

Unconsciousness, musical socialisation, emotional state, experience, and muscle memory, in sum, is who you are!

In terms of your personal expression and the experience of performance, how does playing solo compare to group improvisations?

It is so different! In a group, the biggest collaborator in improv is the interaction. As an example, simple parameters such as the musical density or dynamics of your colleagues immediately have a huge impact on your improvisation. Those who play what they want, no matter what their group members do, to me, are not improvisers.

When you're playing solo, it’s all up to you: tempo, feel, style, and density. It’s only you and the moment.

On Impressionists Improvised, I have one piece I entirely improvised on the spot: “The Impressionist No. 4.” It doesn’t even have a “melody“. I only improvised on a four-bar two-chord cadence (I-, IV-), that goes to all twelve keys once.



I actually like it a lot, maybe because the concept is so simple.

In your best improvisations, do you feel a strong sense of personal presence or do you (or your ego) “disappear”?  

This is a deep philosophical question. I would turn the tables somewhat provocatively and say, once you let your ego disappear, your true personal presence takes over because you become who you really are without necessarily noticing it.

But in general, to “disappear“ in the music, to forget everything around you, to forget what you do and where you are, is one of the nicest things you can experience as a musician. To be honest, it happens not often enough, as you can’t force it.

But I can tell you, in the recording studio, my take on “Clair de Lune” was such a moment to me, which made me really happy.



Stewart Copeland said: “Listening is where the cool stuff comes from. And that listening thing, magically, turns all of your chops into gold.” What do you listen for?

Very true, the listening experience is part of your musical biography. As I mentioned Kind of Blue in the beginning, listening to the very special spirit of that album does something to you.

I find myself mostly listening to free-minded independent artists with a strong personality, often in other genres and non-pianists. This also helps me to free my mind and not be tempted to copy something I like. Cellist Abel Selaocoe, songwriter Sufjan Stevens, or mandolinist Chris Thile, to name a few …

I have always been fascinated by the many facets of improvisation but sometimes found it hard to follow them as a listener. Do you have some recommendations for “how to listen” in this regard?

Provided you are open-minded, all that counts is if you are attracted emotionally by what you hear. There is no right or wrong, nothing to judge.

The range of great improv is so huge, from minimalist approaches to the blues-scale all the way to super complicated and potentially intellectualized synthetic scales, that aim to break our listening experience.

Especially with contemporary approaches, it’s impossible to “follow“ as a listener. But there is no need to “follow“. Either you are attracted by the sum of what you hear - the great picture - or not ….

In a way, improvisations remind us of the transitory nature of life. When an improvisation ends, is it really gone, just like a cup of coffee? Or does it live on in some form?

Ideally, it’s both: a cup of good coffee that lives on. :)