Fred Hersch (Pt. 4)
At dinner, as he told stories about being called up to Art Pepper’s bandstand at a gig in the 80’s, I tried to get my head around Fred’s personality. Throughout his four-day visit to Columbus, I would get glimpses of his nature, which I used to piece together some infinitely small idea of who Fred Hersch was. The fact that he rarely smiled communicated something to me, although I’m not sure what. Much more, his calmness, his insight, and his accessibility said something else. And of course, the task of figuring out Fred’s personality is a futile, unnecessary endeavor. He came to Capital to impart knowledge, and paying attention to those words was goal number one. But on the other hand, a man like Fred needs some context, some small understanding for the brain to grab on to, in order to better process what he’s saying. A musician like Fred doesn’t come around very often.
Not surprisingly, most of what Fred revealed involved music. His suggestions were delivered thoughtfully, and purposefully, from behind the piano. The following are excerpts from various lessons and Masterclasses that he gave.
Me: You’ve said that the only consistent thing you do from day to day is drink coffee. So when it comes time to write a tune, what is your process? Or do you take inspiration from something outside, and then write a tune about that?
Fred: Well, there are three or four things that get me writing tunes. One is a reason to write a tune…a record date, a gig, a deadline of some sort. That’s a very potent…thing. Another thing is to kind of make myself an assignment. I want to write this kind of tune, or I like this kind of rhythm, or I want to write a tune kind of in the style of blah. Sometimes they come out of just, you know, noodling around. You know, at both my places I have staff paper and pencils right there, so I can just kind of…woosh. So it can really come from anyplace. I also take inspiration from people. I’ve dedicated tunes to about twenty different people, one dog, and just try to kind of think about that person. You know as a musician, I try not to write in their style, but I try to write something I could either hear them playing, or that I think they would like. I’ve written a lot of tunes that way. Sometimes I take inspiration from a title, or a word, or a line of a poem. I mean, there’s no perfect way to do anything, as long as you’re moving the pencil. I talk a lot about what I call three p’s and the three a’s. Three p’s being perfectionism (the perfect idea, the perfect moment, the perfect situation, ah, now I’m going to write), then you procrastinate because you can never find the perfect moment. So then paralysis, you end up doing nothing. The corollary is three a’s which are awareness, (like awareness that you’re a perfectionist, for instance), and just accepting that. Ok well that’s how I am, at least for now. And the third and most important part is action. Which, to bring it back around, does not have to be a perfect action. The first phrase of any tune does not have to be genius. It’s what you do with it that’s interesting. (Plays Beethoven 5 on the piano). By itself it’s not all that interesting. But what he did with it was very, very interesting. So think about that. Start with something, and see what it wants to give you. But don’t don’t self edit. Don’t, as you’re going, think oh this is so derivative I can’t believe I’m writing this. So that’s why I recommend using a timer. Like 45 minutes, you have 45 minutes to write a tune. Go. Sometimes I do that and I pick a note. I have 12 little cardboard chips, I put then in a hat, shake up the hat, pull out a chip. So if I pick it up and B comes out, well that can be B major B minor or the note B. And that’s where I start. So already I have a time limit, and I have limited the starting note, or the tonality. So at least I’ve eliminated of some choices. And it gets me thinking. You can also do the same things with rhythms. 12/8, 6/8, 3/4, 7/8, whatever pulls your chain. You can put tempos in there too. Or styles. Then set a timer and just go, and the idea is just to finish it. That’s really the main thing, and the more you write the easier it is to write.
Me: Was there anything definitive in your background that prepared you move back and forth between jazz and classical music?
Fred: Well certainly that basic tool kit that I got in terms of four-part writing, and the basics of harmony and melodic construction, analyzing scores. You know, even though I probably didn’t retain all of it, it gave me a really good basis to create anything that I wanted. And I suppose if I was interested in doing more extended pieces, I would probably study people whose extended pieces I like. Try to get the music from them, or try to get together with them and talk about it. So, like I said, I went through a period where I kind of beat myself up because I wasn’t writing these complicated sorts of things. Like oh man if I was a real composer I would be doing blah blah blah blah. And then I realized, oh…it’s hard to write a really good tune. And I seem to have a knack for it. So, go with your strength. And at the point where writing tunes becomes either repetitive or boring, well then I’ll write something else.
Fred’s visit concluded with a benefit concert for the world’s only GLBT music scholarship, at OSU last night. The program of solo piano music included several originals (Whirl, SWW #4, Still Here, A Lark, Mandevilla), as well as some lesser known standards (Bemsha Swing, Don’t Fence Me In, Whisper Not), each performed with virtuosity in every regard, from arrangements to voice leading. Besides what I expected (arresting dynamic changes, spontaneous counterpoint, gorgeously delicate playing and high energy), Fred’s sense of orchestration, and his ability to alter it at will, was something I am still not prepared to describe. You’ll just have to go see him yourself.
More quotes:
….”To me, I think the best short form tunes are the ones that contain just a few elements.”
“Try writing away from the piano, away from the computer. Then go to your instrument, and see if you wrote what you think you wrote.”
“We all are dealing with the same basic elements. It’s just how each person works with those elements that makes the composition stand out.”
“Some tunes are just a vehicle for solos. They’re not such a big deal, a little more off the cuff. Then others are really kind of their own world, and they force you to enter it.”
“There are so many things to practice, you can end up doing nothing. Instead, pick something. It doesn’t matter what. And time yourself doing it. What happens if I play in two different keys for the next ten minutes? I don’t know, let’s see.”
