Part 2
Can you talk about a work, event or performance in your career that's particularly dear to you? Why does it feel special to you? When, why and how did you start working on it, what were some of the motivations and ideas behind it?
Playing with Wareika at the Club der Visionäre in Berlin has been an annual highlight in all my music making since more than 10 years now. The place, the audience and our performances there are just so special. It is a techno club in a broader sense, but it allows us to experiment in any desired direction, without feeling any limitations of the genre.
I have brought my sarod there along synthesizers and guitars, as well as my oud. We usually play more than 3 hours of improvised electronic live music, and it sounds completely unique and unheard every time. It is the kind of performance where we look at each other amazed from time to time and say: What the hell are we doing here ?
How do you feel your sense of identity influences your collaborations? Do you feel as though you are able to express yourself more fully in solo mode or, conversely, through the interaction with other musicians? Are you “gaining” or “sacrificing” something in a collaboration?
Always gaining. There is endless potential for learning and growing in playing music, as well as in being human.
I often realize my limitations when playing with others, but in a very satisfying way, like: “Wow, I could also play it like this!” For me, playing alone is more like a sort of training, to get ready for the exchange with others, and to broaden the range of expression that helps me to contribute to any kind of ensemble.
Derek Bailey defined improvising as the search for material which is endlessly transformable. Regardless of whether or not you agree with his perspective, what kind of materials have turned to be particularly transformable and stimulating for you?
I agree with Derek, because my improvisations for some reason satisfy me more, when they are built upon some kind of concept or material.
Lately we recorded with Wareika a long improvisation with synthesizers and guitar, based on a piece by Hildegard von Bingen. We learned phrases of the piece by ear and by singing and playing along, then we hit the record button and improvised freely along a pre-programmed rhythm track. It was really fun to hear how each of us re-interpreted the melodies on the fly, how we invented new melodies inspired by the ones we had learned, and how each of us did it in a unique, very personal way, while we where listening to each other.
I like the concept of the classical Persian and Indian music, to learn phrases from your teacher or Guru by ear, completely internalize them, and then let them flow into your improvisation. This concept is helping not to circle around your own horizon of possibilities on the one hand, and not just copying others on the other. I also met this concept in jazz music didactic methods.
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?
It is both, and I am working pretty consciously on both ends of the circular tunnel☺.
Sometimes I am focused on implementing new things like phrases, stroking patterns or harmonic concepts into my improvisation, sometimes I am focused on forgetting and leaving behind everything I have learned so far.
When performing or recording, I try to focus on my emotions, and expressing them as unfiltered as possible.
To you, are there rules in improvisation? If so, what kind of rules are these?
I once learned, that the Japanese word for music is “Ongaku”. It is written with two chinese characters, meaning “sound” or “music” and “joy”, “fun” or “comfort”.
Learning about this, I understood that music for me means “joy induced by sound”. I want to feel joy and I want my listeners to feel joy. How I come up with it, is completey free.
In a live situation, decisions between creatives often work without words. How does this process work – and how does it change your performance compared to a solo performance?
I often compare it to a dialogue.
First of all, you have to listen. If you don't listen, there is no dialogue. After many years of experience, I realize quickly if I am listening, and if the others are listening. If we do listen to each other, and feel free to say what we want to say, because everyone feels the others listening, a unique moment is created. Listening to someone with your whole being, not only with your ears, but with your heart and soul, is like a gift of life energy for our fellows. If we give this gift to each other, we are overflowing with energy, each of us. This is true for music and for daily life.
In a solo performance, I learned that I can listen to the audience. Even when they are dead quiet, I can listen to them, and than I answer to them with my music.
There are many descriptions of the ideal state of mind for being creative. What is it like for you? In which way is it different between your solo work and collaborations?
When I am alone, it is easier to be concentrated and focused. Coming together as musicians, always brings along a certain amount of different feelings and also infrastructure. Who is sitting where in the room? Can everyone hear everyone well? Is everybody comfortable and at ease? Who is feeling how today? Can we all leave our daily life behind us and enter a shared universe of sounds? All these questions become more complex with more people in the room.
On the other hand, creating the above mentioned dialogue between two or more musicians is a unique experience I cannot have alone.
Personally I enjoy a nice balance of working alone and with others.
How do you see the relationship between sound, space and performance and what are some of your strategies and approaches of working with them?
Sound on stage can drive you mad, especially when it is not good. Audiences and venues can drive you mad, when you don't feel really welcome for whatever reason.
We had a Wareika performance in NYC, where the electricity was going down several times before and while we started to play. Everyone was getting very nervous, and our mood was changing from excitement to pure suffering. I tried to concentrate on the possibilities which we still had at our disposal. Should we sing something, clap our hands or play drums on the speakers? I tried to clear my mind and focus on the conviction, that everything would end well. 5 minutes later we had one of the best performances ever …
Sometimes being a musician on stage feels a little bit like being a box champion … who is fighting himself ! And the crucial moment is often about getting together as a band, supporting each other, winning the fight together.
In a way, improvisations remind us of the transitory nature of life. What, do you feel, can music and improvisation express and reveal about life and death?
Very good question. Our shared challenge, to live in this world without knowing where we come from or where we will go after this life, makes us human, I think. The despair that comes along with the realization of our finiteness can be one of the greatest driving forces for creativity in all forms of art.
One of my all-time-favourite Ragas is Darbari Kanada, a grave Raga, the legend tells it was composed after the composers father passed away. It has the richest gooseflesh-inducing bittersweetness of all the music I have heard in my life.
When I listened to it in times of grief, though, it gave me strength and new energy, because it resonated perfectly with my inner condition. I always had the feeling of being connected to something eternal in those moments. I thought, how can the musician, who recorded this, understand so well, what I am going through right now?
The capability to express feelings of joy or despair, that every human on earth can rely to, is one of the most desirable qualities we as musicians can strive for, in my thinking.
