Inspiring Older Readers
Plink, plonk & scratch
To the vast majority of people nowadays the term ‘free music’ simply means music that isn’t paid for. Stolen music. Pirated downloads. It will say nothing about the principles governing the creation of music. In the internet age ‘free’ increasingly only has a meaning in terms of consumerism.
And yet to a small but fiercely enthusiastic minority free music – or free improvised music, to give it its fuller and more accurate name – is a distinct and exciting genre, music-making without a safety net, and it is fifty years old this year.
In 1966 the Little Theatre Club in London began to let a rag-tag army of musicians – Derek Bailey, Evan Parker, Tony Oxley, Paul Lytton, Howard Riley, Keith Rowe, John Stevens, Paul Rutherford, Trevor Watts, to name just some – hold improvised music nights there whenever the space wasn’t needed by actors. It bumped up the bar takings downstairs, and whatever it was they were doing seemed essentially harmless.
But what exactly were they doing? And why were they doing it? And what was its cultural significance? And why are they still doing it, fifty years later?
These are the questions that Trevor Barre sets out to answer in his recent book, Beyond Jazz: Plink, Plonk & Scratch – the Golden Age of Free Music in London 1966-1972 (Compass Publishing).
The roots of free improvised music arguably lie in the schism which happened in jazz in the late-50s and 60s. Some jazz musicians, especially in the US, sought to throw off the shackles of established jazz forms which they felt had become restricting and formulaic, and out of this developed the free jazz movement, itself covering a plethora of styles and theories and politics. It is reductionist to say that free jazz was ‘about’ civil rights or black militancy, but these are central to much of the music.
But not all musicians in Europe who were searching for new forms of expression felt comfortable under the free jazz banner. It didn’t reflect their experience and to claim the struggles free jazz represented as their own would have been bogus. These musicians began to leave behind not just conventional jazz but all established musical forms, playing something made entirely in the moment that recognised no boundaries and no strictures or limitations – other than those they might choose to adhere to at the particular time of performance. This gave rise to a quite distinct movement – and sound – in European free improvised music that was very different to that coming out of the US.
Why anyone should want to play something that to many won’t even vaguely resemble ‘music’ and in some cases devote their lives to this resolutely uncommercial endeavour is an intriguing question, and the many contributors to Barre’s book offer some fascinating insights.
To some degree free improvised music reflected the idealistic, radical politics of the time – collectivist, co-operative, anti-hierarchical, resistant to commodification. It idealises the process of making music and elevates the group over the individual. It takes the act of improvisation as its primary ‘subject matter’. These trends are still evident foundations of the music today.
I’m not attempting a full, detailed review of Barre’s book here. There are already some very good ones online, each devoting far greater space (and knowledge) than I have at my disposal. My purpose is simply to say how satisfying it is in an age of hyper-commercialism to find that free improvised music is thriving, that it is widely recorded (a sensitive issue: some purists believe it should exist only at the time of its creation), that venues and audiences appear to be increasing, and that its history is being documented by people like Trevor Barre, themselves as ascetic and dedicated as many of the music’s practitioners.
Now, I’m not going to try and tell you that this is one of those books that everyone will enjoy, no matter how slight their interest in the subject. It really isn’t. But on the other hand, nor do you have to be a free improv monomaniac to enjoy it. Anyone with some degree of interest in the strange developmental by-ways of music – the weird forms that organised noise can take and still somehow, mysteriously, be moving, gripping, joyful – will find much to ponder here.
Beyond Jazz covers the first generation of improvisers. Barre is already working doggedly away on a second volume and it seems at least possible that there will be others after that too. Anyway, I read what we should all hope is merely volume one with great interest and enjoyment and it left me feeling not just immeasurably more informed but also a better-equipped listener.
And free improvised music – even and perhaps especially for those who play it – is about listening, listening, listening.
Other resources on free improvised music:
Trevor Barre’s ImprovMusic website.
Radio 4, In the Moment, a programme about free improv hosted by comedian Stewart Lee (02/01/16).
Peter Stubley’s European Free Improvisation Pages.