Remembering Chuck Workman

Remember Chuck Workman

I used to listen to Chuck on the Sunday Morning Jazz Show, WTPI. When my first CD came out, a friend suggested I send it to him. I jumped out of my seat when I heard him play “Searching.” He was the very first to put my music on the air. Later he called to interview me for a NUVO article. What a wonderful voice to hear over the phone!

Over the years, I have done many radio interviews with Chuck, and he has written many articles about my music. He believed in me so much, he helped me believe in myself. He really floored me with the headline pictured above.

I called him every time I had something big coming up, and he always called me back to hear the latest. I was even planning on calling him today. . .

I’m not quite ready yet, but when I am, I will enjoy listening again to the tapes of our radio interviews. His enthusiasm was so sincere, and so infectious.

The last time I saw Chuck was at the Jazz Kitchen, just a few months ago. I watched him eat a really big dessert (that I was hoping he would offer me a bite of.) We talked and talked about music, of course. I remember him saying that he felt like he was in New York, as we listened to one of our great local jazz groups – The Farrelly/Markiewicz Quartet.

Chuck, thank you for your love of music, your kindness and your generous spirit. I miss you already.

Becky Archibald
March 26, 2012

Answer: In the State of Wonder

The next time someone asks me the question, “If you could pick any place in the world, where would you like to live?” I am going to say, “In the State of Wonder.” And that doesn’t mean the State of Confusion, as in, “I wonder what is going on??” where we squint our eyes and scrunch up our faces and feel lost or overwhelmed. I’m thinking of the childlike state of open-mindedness and endless possibility.

The other night, I watched a documentary about Evelyn Glennie, an amazing percussionist who lost her hearing as a child. She and fellow musician, Fred Frith, improvise music together (on both traditional and makeshift instruments) in a cavernous warehouse in Germany. Fred especially seemed like a giant kid. His eyes, his face, were so relaxed and open as he experimented with sounds on his guitar. He seemed to be having such a great time, and made it all look so easy.

It reminded me of what I saw when teaching my first Composition Studio Class at Anderson University. I had worked with my students individually, but not as a group, so I wasn’t sure what the dynamic would be. I did know, though, that they were very, very bright, so I had better come up with something good. So the first thing I said was,

“Today we are going to play a game called ‘Work the Room.’”

I asked them to find objects in the classroom that they could make a sound or noise with. After experimenting with the sound, they were to write down what they discovered, so that someone reading their instructions could replicate what that they did.

I was so pleased to see each person immediately enter the State of Wonder: big eyes, lips parted, slight smiles, relaxed breathing and childlike curiosity. There were no “instruments” in the room (except an upright piano that was off limits.) Instead, the students toyed with mini blinds, and projector screens, and chairs, and drawers, and music stands and erasers on the chalkboard. I won’t go into phase 2 or 3 of the game, which emphasized the importance of not assuming anything when communicating on paper, because I want to focus on the playfulness that happens prior to the decision-making.

When composing, if I happen to notice that I am momentarily in the State of Wonder, I sometimes say out loud, “I love writing music!” So far, this has not snapped me out of my trance. Instead, it reminds me of how much fun I am having, even though I haven’t solved all the problems, and am still considering many possibilities. (Actually, maybe I should say, because I haven’t solved all the problems.)

If I don’t spend at least part of my day in my “home state,” I feel lost, and also, feel that I may have lost something. What if I missed out on a brilliant insight that could have come to me, if only I had taken the time for it?

Last month, a 7-yr-old student decided to write a new piece for the recital that was coming up in a few days. I watched and listened as he invented the whole thing, right in front of me. He doesn’t really like to title his pieces, but I went ahead and asked what he wanted to call it. We shared a comfortable silence for at least a full minute as he pondered the question. I’m okay with this seemingly long chunk of time, because I know that it is a precious thing, and potent with possibility. Finally, he said, “I got it! It’s called, “Float, Flutter, Fly.”

Wow! Not only was his title a perfect fit for the rhythm of his theme, it was also a beautiful parallel to the actual creative process. Floating in uncertainty leads to a bit of fluttering when the idea hits, and then you are ready to fly.

Creative plus Happy does not equal Crappy

The other day, I wrote this note to myself: “Creative people must model creativity and the creative process by approaching every aspect of their lives in a creative way.” Not to put pressure on myself or anything.

This morning, as I was ironing Christmas stockings (since it’s the 23rd, I thought maybe we should decorate a little) I realized I had blown it yesterday with one of my piano students. I was trying to help her master a passage with what I knew would be the perfect “technical” approach. I worked her and worked her (in a calm and patient way, of course) reminding her to take more time, go slower, think before pushing the notes. I can’t believe I went so far as to ask her to temporarily turn off her musicality and approach things mathematically. Wow, what was I thinking??

While getting that last crease out of the stocking my mom made for me as an infant, I saw the light. Because my student is so bright and so musical, I could have made the whole experience much more fun for her if I had utilized her gifts by suggesting that she come up with a new rhythm for the passage. This is something I do all the time when I am trying to perfect my performances. I find places where I need to pause in order to give myself time to find my notes, and then make a little game out of it. Maybe a measure in 4/4 time becomes 7/4 time, but that’s ok, I’m just doing what I need to do to get things right, without turning my practice session into something dull, dry and scientific. Sometimes, these games actually provide ideas that become the seeds for the next composition I will write.

Temporarily shutting off my creativity equals following a recipe to a T, and not listening to the suggestions from my inner voice (hmmm, maybe a little red pepper will add some zing to this apple pie – which it did, by the way.)

Temporarily avoiding new thinking may mean that I write a duet instead of a trio, because, by golly, I had planned a duet, and so what if this other voice is trying to coax its way into my piece. (Listen to “I Know” for Clarinet, Horn and Piano, from my Mood Swing CD) http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/archibald5

Temporarily shutting off our creativity equals avoiding fun and life and being surprised in the moment.

This is mainly a note to self, but for kicks, I thought I would share it with you. Merry Christmas and a Creative and Happy New Year!

--Becky

When Writing, Avoid Ending

• Hi! Good-bye!

• Once upon a time, there was a prince and a princess. They met, fell in love, and lived happily ever after.

• There was a mysterious murder in the village. The butler did it.

I just finished writing a piece of music for a friend I always had to hang up the phone on, because she didn’t know how to end a conversation. She would think of another question to ask or story to tell. Since it was her idea, I didn’t feel too bad about simply saying, “Karen, I'm hanging up now, good-bye!”

While composing, I was torn. I didn’t want it to end, because I was enjoying creating something for her. On the other hand, I needed to get it to her quick, because she is in the final stages of Alzheimer’s, and won’t be around much longer.

All I had to start with were two pretty chords that I found in a piece written for children, and a rhythmic idea. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that Karen is Irish, or that she had such a happy laugh, or any private jokes between us. I just laid my hands on the piano and started playing.

The first thing I hit was an A minor chord. My negative self, in its smarmy voice, announced, “Oh, that’s real original!” But I made a decision to let it start there, because, that’s where it started. And then more decisions were made, which is really what the writing process is about. Experimenting and trusting your judgment to make good decisions.

I continued playing and writing, trying to find a place for that chord progression I liked (which took many rewrites, experiments, and inversions of chords before I found just the right sound.) and for the rhythm I had in mind.

Something that has always been my mantra is “avoid ending.” Keep it going. Avoid things that make it sound like it’s over. Search for the search, the explorations, the unknown.

On what became the first page, I came to a place where I could easily have resolved a chord in the typical way. But in order to avoid ending, I had to keep toying with other possibilities. After finding my way through that section, I landed in new territory. I’m in E flat minor, and I want to have an interesting running figure in the left hand. I tried so many combinations of notes before hitting upon a series of 6 tones that felt right. I improvised for days with my right hand while my left hand repeated the 6-note figure, all the while having my digital recorder capturing the sound.

Well, after all of that playing, my left hand was getting worn out. I had made lots of what I thought were good decisions and got them all on paper, only to have to change something that seemed so clever at the time that I wrote it.

Some of my students don’t like wasting paper. I, on the other hand, think that writing all the experiments down and having lots of material to work off of, is not a waste at all. (I wish that I was neater and more organized, but that’s a different issue.)

When I visited Karen at the Alzheimer’s unit in August, she talked, she sang, and she held my hands so tight that I didn’t think she would ever let go. Finally, her daughter said, it’s time, she needs to rest, you can open your fingers and she will be okay. When trying to finish the piece, I had created several lengthy endings. My son, Taylor, suggested, “Mom, you should just end it, abruptly, like when you used to hang up the phone on Karen!”

If you would like to listen to the piece, titled “Still Something To Say,” I posted a video here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vWg9VQWblE

And if you would like to hear about page 3 and 4 and 5, well, I could tell you story after story after story . . .

Composing 101

I wrote a piece, complete with a 4-part jazz arrangement, in 2 ½ hours the other day. While I was writing, I kept a diary of what was gong on in my mind, to help give you, the reader, insight into the compositional process. Now you, too, can begin to understand the steps one must take in writing music, the problems that must be solved, and the mind games one must conquer:

Step 1) Try, fail, try, fail, try, fail, try, succeed!

Step 2) Move on to measure two.

Step 3) Try, fail, try, fail, try, fail, say “ah-ha,” cross out measure one, rewrite.

Step 4) Notice I said “cross out,” not erase. (VERY IMPORTANT)

Step 5) Repeat Step 2.

Step 6) Hum what you have written.

Step 7) Cringe.

Step 8) Tape record yourself humming, and listen back.

Step 9) Cringe more.

Step 10) Play what you have written on the piano.

Step 11) Smile a little.

Step 12) Accidentally figure out the ending, then stew over the middle section for hours/days/weeks/months.

Step 13) Speaking of accidents, another VERY IMPORTANT step is the Leap of Faith. Close your eyes and land on a chord or key you never would have chosen. Say “oops” then say “hmmmm?”

Step 14) Speaking of accidentals, a sharp or flat here or there may really punch up your melody!

Step 15) That idea you crossed out earlier? Try using it in bar 105. A perfect fit!!

Step 16) Spend a minute (or a year) thinking of a title.

Step 17) Carefully (I suggest using a ruler) draw in some double bars, and you’re finished!

Now, friends, you can see why writing music is so pleasurable, so. . .addicting!

Moral: You will fail many, many times during the writing process. You will also succeed in many ways. You will learn to trust your instincts. You will learn to make good choices. You will find a way to finish. And (hopefully) you will enjoy the process!

Becky Archibald

I Followed My Own Advice, and. . .

I followed my own advice, set a deadline, and made two songbooks! (It didn't hurt that both kids were away this week.) Heading off to France today to present the new tunes at the Dordogne Jazz Summer School in Monteton. I'll be sharing the stories at www.beckysblogfromfrance.blogspot.com.

Deadlines/LIFElines

I’ve shared stories before about my friend Dave, an amazingly talented ad writer (who unfortunately passed away a few years ago.) One of the first things he said to me, when he wanted to write some zingy phrases for my promo materials, was that he couldn’t be creative at all without a deadline. I was surprised and confused. I felt very uncomfortable imposing a deadline on someone who was doing me a favor. I just wanted to say, oh, just whenever, you’re a busy guy, I’ll just be thankful whenever you can squeeze it in! But he demanded a date, so I handed him one.

I was asked a few months ago to write a piece of music for my grandmother’s 90th birthday party. Luckily, I had a deadline, or the piece would have never been born. I did put it off as long as possible, until panic set in. It’s not that I didn’t try – I actually started on a few ideas. I just couldn’t get anywhere with them.

This week (by the way, the party is in two days) I really put some effort in. I had written a kind of outline of an idea, and then decided to write variations on the chord structure. I noticed that I could make decisions much easier with the deadline looming. A surprising peace and calm came over me. From measure to measure, I improvised a few notes, and wrote down what I liked. In what seemed like no time at all, I was done. Not because I worried myself with choosing THE RIGHT NOTE. I was just happily jotting down something that worked for me in the moment.

This is something I really must consider, regarding a few of my projects that are up in the air. Maybe if I set some deadlines for them, they will actually happen!!

(I’ve set a deadline to finish this post before dinner, so out it is going, no time to edit!)