Zen in the Art of Listening (via Tyshawn Sorey)
Image taken from the artist’s website
First published May 2016. Edited November 2023
I’ve begun re-reading Zen and The Art of Archery. Written between world wars, German philosophy lecturer Eugen Herrigel beautifully recounts his six years spent in Japan learning the art of Japanese Archery as a means to open himself to the true nature of Zen Buddhism, and finding meaning in the oxymoron: ‘artless art’. I’ve long been fascinated by books that shed light on the nature of mastery, and this short and sweet read remains one of my most treasured guides in my quest for mastery of my instrument.
I first encountered this cult classic in 2013, when after a bout of the neurological disorder dystonia led me to forget how to play the trumpet, I sought technical and philosophical resources to inform my journey of relearning to play. I was more recently prompted to re-discover ZaTAoA after a resonating quote from an interview with NYC/NJ based drummer/composer Tyshawn Sorey. Cue a bit of background: I first heard Tyshawn on what is now one of my all-time favourite albums- Steve Lehman’s second Octet record Mise en Abîme. I really dug Tyshawn’s drumming on that album. Over these difficult tunes he somehow sounded like two drummers. From that listen, I bought his newly released trio album, Alloy (Pi Records). If it wasn’t for a caveat Sam Gill provided before purchase it would have been a bit of a shock first listen. Unlike the aforementioned sideman album where he navigates through Steve’s incredibly dense and intricate compositions with steeze and steady groove, Alloy could be a Morton Feldman foray into the piano trio format. The music is incredibly sparse, where Tyshawn has moments of extended tacet on the drums. His drumming- bare a brief slither in the final 30 minute piece- is mostly textural. Nevertheless, this album very much resonated with me. It’s a deeply compelling listen that strikes a balance between challenging and enchanting- two musical qualities I am particularly attracted to in music. Part of its challenging charm is the enormous space it creates, and how as such it requires the full attention of all your senses. This record demands so much quiet and attention I can’t even listen to this album in the car due to the ambient noise on the road! Once you give yourself to its space it quickly begins to enchant.
I became fascinated by a musician of such dichotomy: a virtuosic jazz drummer who composed and recorded music that seemed to sit more comfortably in the contemporary classical music sphere. After a deep dive into all of Tyshawn’s published online interviews, it became clear that he has been able to do so as he has become aware of, and shed much of the bias, judgement and constraints of not just style and genre but also listening. I really dig this extended response to a question about genre:
“In my works, the “academic” musical axioms and the world of genres that defines the music of our time do not mean much to me; I never, ever compose works utilizing theory alone. Nor do I think of style when I am writing music. In other words, I do not compose works specifically for purposes of proving any theoretical arguments, or to invalidate any music that does not utilize “advanced” compositional principles. To put it simply, I like to compose music in the moment – in the way that I imagine and hear it. That is not to say, however, that there is no room for one to analyze my work in theoretical terms. In this sense, my music is no different from any other form of creative improvised music. All of my works employ an expansive range of compositional techniques ranging from twelve-tone theory to so-called “jazz” harmony – and nearly all of my works allow for performers to improvise (sonically expressed life experience shared in a given context) within varying contexts. So “free music” would be the best term for me to describe my work: composed and improvised elements in a composition are unified (this makes up for the “music” part). The “free” in free music would define the flexibility pertaining to contextual dynamics in the music; the music can function anywhere from a “jazz club” setting to a concert hall and can be performed by anyone. In my mind, there is no necessity for the venue, the type of musician, or the context to define how the work should be appreciated anyway.”
He further describes his experience working with trained musicians and how these ideas permeate in their playing and interpretation:
“Some of the music I compose is not necessarily performable only by trained musicians or any certain kinds of musicians. In fact, I have found that composing for such a musician sometimes has a tendency to invite unwanted limitations to the music due to the superimposition of tastes (and ego) on the part of the performer. That is to say, in these cases, the purpose and intent of the music often becomes misunderstood. My music is not classical, it is not jazz, it is not Western art music, and it is not Eastern art music. The music is not a style, in the way that we speak of what style “is.” However, it is a unification of concepts derived from these musics and their respective philosophies (most notably, Zen) in addition to my life experience – the human experience, both on a practical and metaphysical level.”
http://www.arsnovaworkshop.com/blog/interview-tyshawn-sorey&gws_rd=cr&ei=jYg5V-u2LsTAmAWrjKzwDQ
The above really resonated with me. Reading further through other Tyshawn interviews, what resonated with me even more (partly due to it being a constant point of contention within myself) was his thoughts on listening. In the same way he has shed the biased bubbles of genre and style in his composing, Tyshawn has removed (or at they very least, become conscious of) the bias in his listening experience. When asked out his influences outside of music he conjured up this lil’ nugget of goodness:
“Well, besides art disciplines…Zen Buddhism, literature, and painting has had a very profound affect on my work in many ways as well as the way I listen to music, which is really no way at all – positively speaking.”
https://glowsinthedark.wordpress.com/2009/05/05/ten-questions-with-tyshawn-sorey/
Listening by not listening. Doesn’t sound too dissimilar to Herrigel’s search for meaning in his master’s seemingly oxymoronic axiom the artless art. He continues by providing some background:
“All I would listen to back then was more traditional sounding stuff from WBGO or WKCR only to later discover that I became somewhat of a “jazz purist”. It became apparent to me that I was listening to music in one “way”; that it was time for me to eliminate the idea of taste, likes, and dislikes and take from whatever I listened to and let it be a part of my musical makeup. I believe that every listener of music listens in their own way, and I did not want to listen in ANY WAY…but to JUST listen – no feelings that “something sucks” or “something is catchy”, etc. then, my tastes would not let me fully experience what was happening in the moment. To listen to something without “listening”.
https://glowsinthedark.wordpress.com/2009/05/05/ten-questions-with-tyshawn-sorey/
Woah. Reading Tyshawn speak of this way of listening triggered the self-awareness of my own ego-laden listening habits. Let me tell you, like releasing tension from parts of your body that have for years existed unknowingly, removing bias from our listening is no easy task. I have always considered myself an open listener, willing to give time to a healthy cross-section of the musical spectrum from the release-riddled (i.e. pop/rock/mainstream) to the tension-bursting (i.e. new music/noise). But Tyshawn’s assertion that ‘I believe that every listener of music listens in their own way’ awoke me to the realisation that over the past few months I’d been listening with a shade of bias. I realised I had been listening with the intent of collecting compositional devices the last couple of months. While doing so can be a healthy compositional exercise, it propagated and eventually infested my listening experience. It affected both what I listened to, but more importantly how I listened. I would aurally gloss over certain sections of a song or album due to my perception that they held no compositional value to me.
This is all best explained through an anecdote. I’m part of this new collective called Microfiche. We recently recorded an album late ’15 (currently being mastered). It features a collection of compositions from most of the eight members, ranging in length from one minute to 21 minutes. I think the music is quite exceptional. We were actually formerly a performing class under the tutelage of Simon Barker and Phil Slater, meeting every week for two hours. To my ears the year spent playing and learning together are reflected in the music, shining with a thick coating of cohesion and rapport. Aesthetically, it could be said to sit in the same sphere as Tyshawn’s, that is to say, music that demands focus with it’s copious moments of space, pointillism and and non-structural forms. I gave the unmastered tracks a whirl the other week and instantly began enjoying it’s fruit; feeling it’s crisp newness and that engaging rapport; letting it speak to me about itself and about me, the listener. In that moment I realised I had momentarily lifted this curtain of listening bias and was giving this music -music of the full attention it desired and deserved. I thought back to all the music I had faux-listened to over the past few weeks and considered how many moments of magic, how many peoples stories and experiences, how many opportunities to fleeting reach the beyond had I forfeited due to this partisan haze. Eek.
I’ve since decided to set up some listening guidelines. Firstly, I only listen when I can commit my full attention. No listening in the background. In the car I’ll play some field recordings that Ben Gerstein showed me (check out my blog post about those linked here) When listening, I’m attempting to not make a value judgement. Lastly, I listen to material multiple times. I think if you were to listen to a Microfiche album once its full potential couldn’t entirely be gauged. It’s all about listening less but listening more. Listening but not listening. The artless art.
I’ve been thoroughly enjoying my new listening habit. It’s strengthened my focus and attention, two things the greater cross-section of music deserves. I should preface all this by adding that establishing such strict listening guidelines is not in everyone’s best interest. There is a time and place for music to support a scene in the background. Reflecting personally though, allowing the music greater focus aligns with how I have come to think about music in a broader sense but also brings out greater nuance and fruits in the ‘fringe’ music I’ve been listening to these past years, which often dismisses established tools of cohesion and unity, which usually aid the listener in consuming.
Another consideration is listening in this way is to give greater respect to the intent of the composer/creators, who have in many cases funnelled their life force into their creation, providing your full attention not only honours their time and energy but gives us the opportunity to extract a meaningful experience from it.
It’s intriguing, I’ve already spoken extensively about listening on this site. I guess it continues to play on my mind because it’s one visceral element of the musical experience- also possibly the most essential (does music exist if nobody hears it? Do you have to ‘play’ to make music?) -that is undergoing dramatic changes as our brains and behaviour are being rewired due to the technological and societal developments of the late C20th/early C21st.
As a friend said to me the other day: The days of trying to play like a computer are past. Computers can now play faster, higher, lower, slower, and all more accurate than we ever could be. It’s impressive, but it’s different. What computers can’t yet offer is a product that speaks first hand of the human experience: that essential, ephemeral element that binds us all; gives us purpose. Until it ceases to do so, music will continue to exist. The real question is, how will we be listening to it?
My main interest in the end is communication. I’m interested in taking the listener through an experience that is personal and meaningful on every level. I like to give the listener some kind of cleansing experience.
http://www.jazzspeaks.org/tyshawn-sorey-speaks-on-musical-multiplicity/
This final quote has found its way to my bedroom wall to remind me each and everyday what we are aiming for as musicians.
N