Name: Kevin Miller
Nationality: American
Occupation: Guitarist, composer, improviser, educator
Current Release: Kevin Miller teams up with Dan Blake for At First Light, out via Creative Sources.
Recommendations: Matthew Shipp - I’ve Been to Many Places (Thirsty Ear, 2014); Aidan Levy’s recent book on Sonny Rollins (Saxophone Colossus: The Life and Music of Sonny Rollins)

If you enjoyed this Kevin Miller interview and would like to know more about his music, visit his official homepage.



How would you describe your own relationship with your instrument – is it an extension of your self/body, a partner and companion, a creative catalyst, a challenge to be overcome, something else entirely?

I often think of my relationship with the guitar as one where I’m attempting to unlock what it’s trying to tell me.

Even though the instrument is an inanimate object and the reality is that this process is just happening inside some part of my mind, I’m looking for a continuum where the sound I get when playing one note is organically extended into a world of phrasing and language. This continuum can be achieved by spending a lot of time working on said sound, and trying to be in touch with how it can be brought to life through things like phrasing and choice of notes.

I often point to Eric Dolphy as possibly the clearest example of somehow who’s whole sense of language really embodies this approach.



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?

I would consider any words spoken by Derek Bailey in regards to improvisation extremely valuable. In my mind, sound itself is the most transformable element which exists in music. I think taking a sound-focused approach to improvisation allows for an unlimited amount of growth.

I really like and agree with the following William Parker quote.

“Sound has limitless width and depth. It can magnify itself infinitely. Sound can never be fully illuminated. No matter how far the music goes, it is only touching the surface of possibility.” - William Parker

That being said, I’m sure much of this has to do with the individual who is searching for said endlessly transformable material. There have obviously been many people throughout music history who have had this relationship to harmony, melody, rhythm, silence, etc.

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?

I really do think of them as two sides of the same coin. I know that it is possible to make a composition sound completely improvised and make an improvisation sound through-composed in all aspects of the performance.

There are classical pianists who can play a J.S. Bach piece in a manner which sounds like it was just the improvised music of that moment. If an improvisation has a certain level of focus and clarity, many listeners may be tricked into thinking the musician is playing something which is written down in traditional music notation.

I think a great example of the latter is the first track on Matthew Shipp’s solo piano album I’ve Been to Many Places.



I also think much of this has to do with historical context. For example, if someone hears a fully composed piece for solo drum-set that deals with a world of language which brings to mind Milford Graves, they will probably automatically assume it’s improvised due to that language mostly existing, historically, in improvised settings.



Same with if someone improvised a piece on the piano that has a real fugue-like nature to it; most people will probably automatically assume that it is composed.

I think the question of whether there are elements of composition and improvisation which are unique to each may have to come down to the person or group of people which are dealing with them. I think that my relationship to composition and improvisation is too intrinsically connected on many levels to delineate that sort of compartmentalization.

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?

I really like, and try to take, the approach of William Parker’s definition of improvising; “the act of tapping into the sound stream and letting it flow”.

When taking this approach, you’re subconsciously attempting to create language which strongly brings out the most core depth of the sound which is being generated. This will inevitably lead to language which you’ve dealt with before; however, this language develops over time and can mutate based on its surroundings if the person operating the instrument allows it to.

A lot of improvisers also take pride in at least making the attempt to do something they’ve never done before during a performance. I can quote Evan Parker as someone who has said that most performances are a combination of him “playing exactly what he feels like playing and trying something he has never tried before”.

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

For myself, I think playing with others is just way easier. Even if it’s just one more person who is part of the equation (a duo), there is a whole other world of energy and information to help shape the music.

I think playing with others also provides a healthy pressure that, for myself, is centered around sending your subconscious mind into override mode and playing at the top of your game in order to not make the situation a drag for the person or people you’re playing with.

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

I’ve always felt that the further I go into “true” improvising, there’s a feeling of both happening simultaneously. I think this makes sense since true improvising comes from a deeper level of mind than we might use in many aspects of day-to-day life.

As I delve into deeper levels of a subconscious playing mode, I feel the music flowing through me in a very passive way while also feeling a true sense of who I am come out to an extent that has never happened in any activity outside of improvising.

In a live situation, decisions between creatives often work without words. From your experience and current projects, what does this process feel like and how does it work?

When improvising with others, every little thing you do is communicating something to the person or people you’re playing with. It’s a process of constantly listening while putting out musical information for those you’re playing with to listen to.

In my experience, the best results come from focusing on the listening portion of this process while letting the playing come from a more passive place. It’s almost like the playing just automatically takes care of itself.

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?

I think this a great quote, and one that really gets to the core of why I usually find improvising to be where my whole sense of musical language reaches it’s most poetic form.

My experience is that when you’re in the moment and playing with others, many problems that could arise in a compositional setting in regards to a question like “what should happen next?” automatically take care of themselves in an organic way due to your subconscious mind working on a faster and more thorough level than your conscious mind ever could.

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?

When listening to any music, I always really try to listen in the most complete way I can. Listening to every little note, every sound. Listening in the same way you would listen if someone was speaking to you; hopefully paying attention to every word they’re saying and allowing your ear and mind to connect that to the overall gestalt of what is being said.

To listen on this level with a group of musical improvisers who create really dense tapestries is; I think obviously, just way more challenging than listening to your friend tell you about their lunch. I think it just takes time, dedication, and exposure.

For listeners who are unfamiliar with a lot of improvised music, I think it can also be helpful to try to think about or even write down the overall gesture of what’s happening in the music. Just as a starting point so one can feel like they’re getting inside of the communicative nature of the language where it doesn’t just sound like a bunch of random sounds happening in an incoherent way.