The Stories
The unwritten magic of improvisation
The Stories
The unwritten magic of improvisation
Miles Davis famously said: «Don’t play what’s there, play what’s not there». He was pointing to something elusive: the untapped magic of spontaneous creation sitting between the written notes. From Johann Sebastian Bach extending his fugues to John Coltrane’s avant-garde solos, from ancient oral traditions to the cathedral organ, many musicians have found their path into the great world of improvisation.
Improvisation is the process of composing and performing at the same time. Sometimes there’s a clear harmonic structure to express yourself in, such as a 12-bar blues or a jazz standard. At other times it’s quite open – hello, free jazz and improvised music! Being able to not only improvise but build a story within the improvisation requires a strong foundation of musical theory (knowing the keys and scales), knowledge of the instrument, a strong level of curiosity and, while at first it might seem contradictory, lots of practice.
Before the score
When we think of improvisation, we often think of jazz, not necessarily classical music. Maybe because in classical concerts we often see musicians reading sheet music, and if you’ve ever taken classical music lessons, you'll recall solfège (music theory classes). How did some of France’s leading improvisers get their start?
Organist and composer Thierry Escaich was already improvising before he could read a note. At four or five years old, he’d tinker away on accordions, melodicas, pianos, making up sounds and phrases purely for the joy of it. By the time he was playing the organ in liturgical settings, improvisation wasn’t a skill he was developing; it was just how he spoke music. «I learned my craft through improvisation,» he says. «It’s almost the reverse of what usually happens.»
As a musician it’s important to read notes, yes, but more so to know what to do without them. This mentality was also taught to saxophonist Alexandra Grimal, who, when taking piano lessons as a child, was invited by her teacher to sit down at the piano and create music that represented the sun, or the rain. «These first steps gave me the freedom later to become a good reader whilst also not reading,» she says. She didn’t quite know what she was doing, but it felt completely natural. Both artists arrived at improvisation not as a technique to be acquired, but as a language they’d been speaking since childhood. Which makes Escaich’s approach to teaching it all the more interesting. Because not everyone gets that flying start, and he knows it. «I’ve had students who felt quite blocked. They were tied to the score, clinging to the written page, afraid of the void, in a way.» For many musicians, the absence of notation isn’t freedom, it’s stressful. But with patience and a five-year arc of gradual unlocking, those same students went on to win major improvisation competitions and now improvise freely in their own concerts.
The French school of improvisation
Thierry Escaich is one of the ambassadors of the French school of improvisation, and there’s a reason that school took root in France specifically. France’s Catholic churches handed organists the keys (literally): with less choir involvement than in Anglo-Saxon traditions, organists got dedicated solo moments embedded into every service, which meant more time to improvise. This led to the flourishing of great composer-improvisers like Belgian musician César Franck. Add to that the French musical DNA of lush colours, free harmony, and more melodic flair – versus the Germans’ more complex structure – and you’ve got a culture that sets the perfect foundation for organ improvisation.
Many years later, Thierry Escaich is one of the titular organists at Notre-Dame de Paris. When he produces the first notes for the entrance in this majestic cathedral, he doesn’t know when the procession will arrive – it could be in three or eight minutes. He must arrive at a certain tonality at the right moment so that when the organ ends, the choir and congregation enter on his chord. He has a practical tool to help him: «A green light that tells me when to land, or a red light when I need to stop, because I can’t always see what’s happening below, and an orange light that indicates: in fifteen seconds, you need to reach the final chord. There’s no cutting off mid-phrase.» During this musical flow, he goes on a winding path of playing with notes, textures, melodies, and harmony – he experiences total freedom.
Building sonic landscapes
Thierry Escaich’s path as an improviser was shaped by his love for silent films, and cinema in general. He appreciates the great filmmakers like Luchino Visconti, Pier Paolo Pasolini and Martin Scorsese. When he left the conservatory, he was one of the key figures to breathe life into the «ciné-concert», which had fallen out of fashion in the 1990s as people stopped accompanying silent films (we’re glad they’re back, Thierry!). «I was drawn to building sonic worlds that are suggested by the film itself. It’s a very powerful source of inspiration for me when I improvise.»
But accompanying a silent film live isn’t just a matter of filling the silence. For Thierry Escaich, it’s about understanding a film so deeply that the music becomes a conversation with it, not a commentary on top of it – all while leaving enough space for the audience to bring their own imagination to the room. He could, technically, sit down and improvise to a film he’s never seen. But he wouldn’t want to. He’d be missing the emotional weight of a scene, unsure of where the story is heading. Even when Thierry Escaich has studied the craft of improvisation for years, the musical inspiration of the moment – the improvisation – remains spontaneous. Nevertheless, he says that improvisation is also the accumulation of all the inspirations he has taken in as a human being; composers were nourished by composers before them.
Can everyone improvise?
The answer, according to those who do it well, is yes – but it requires something counterintuitive: the willingness to unlearn. «Everyone can improvise, it’s just a matter of practice,» says Alexandra Grimal. «Lose what you think you know.» There’s a certain humility required of the improviser by not knowing where the music might take you, according to the saxophonist. She practices every day to continue accessing that space that feeds her inspiration and improvisation. As Thierry Escaich has shown with his teaching methods and students – who transitioned from feeling stuck to becoming award-winning improvisers – learning improvisation is possible.
Both artists make the same plea: let young musicians do more with unwritten music. Give students time to discover intervals, invent melodies, play with rhythm and texture – not as a break from real learning, but as part of it. «We gradually shifted a little too far toward the written side,» says Thierry Escaich. «Written music is valuable, but in a sense it’s only a passing episode in the history of music. Traditional music is rarely written down. Writing helps structure things, but it’s not an end in itself.»
Making improvisation more accessible
«Free improvisation can feel difficult to follow because it can lack familiar anchors,» explains Francisco Sassetti, Senior Manager Artistic Planning. A self-confessed jazz fan, he was a central part of creating the Jazz Currents series where free improvisation takes centre stage. «Improvisation is very physical, you can’t hide from it – in a museum you can walk away from a piece, here you sit through it for 60 or 90 minutes. The audience needs to go on that journey and let themselves go. See if the artist takes you somewhere.» It’s a question of expectation and familiarity; the more comfortable you are with not knowing what comes next, the further you can travel.
That sense of shared journey is something Alexandra Grimal thinks about deeply. For her, every performance carries a certain weight – to break down barriers, to reach people emotionally. Whether she’s playing a jazz standard, a contemporary piece, a Bulgarian folk song or something entirely experimental, the commitment stays the same. «We are responsible for this very unique moment – a responsibility to change the air.» It’s her job to make that happen, she says. Even at the organ of the cathedral, Thierry Escaich draws on other musical inspirations, opening up the palette to the audience: «Something at a Notre-Dame recessional might sound like rock or tango, and why not? It’s part of the natural expression of things.» It gets at something both Alexandra Grimal and Thierry Escaich share: improvisation is more than a musical technique, it’s a live act of communication. Music made in the moment, for the moment.
Living in the moment
The instantaneous passion of improvisation is perhaps best summarised by Thierry Escaich: «What’s wonderful about improvisation is this reflective reaction – a germination of ideas from almost nothing. You surprise yourself, because you’re pushed and you don’t have time to think. The intellect can’t say ‹yes, no, wait› – you just go.» The result is music charged with unfiltered emotion; feelings that might never surface if there were more time to second-guess them.
But what happens when life gets in the way? When an improviser steps on stage carrying the ordinary weight of a difficult day? «I am training every day to reach this creative zone, to not let it interfere with anything else,» says Alexandra Grimal. It’s a state close to flow – where self-consciousness dissolves and something larger takes over. And it’s rarely achieved alone. «The collective is important too. Listening, and being together.» The saxophonist gets much of her inspiration from places, people and «simple life details that I see sometimes. Even a special shape of a cloud could inspire me!»
Room for play
Improvisation doesn’t have to be serious, it can be fun, and humour is even important. Little rhythmic riffs, a melody or harmony, a call and response in phrases between musicians. «You see it a lot in improvisation, the interaction between musicians to something that happened before, or how they play with the audience’s anticipation,» according to Francisco Sassetti.
«We are players. We play. Like kids with their toys,» says Alexandra Grimal. «Humour is a strong tool for freedom.» She invokes Charlie Chaplin, someone whose comedy carried genuine weight and vision, as a reminder that making people smile is often the most sincere way to open a door. Thierry Escaich found this comic energy at its most vivid when accompanying the silent film Sunrise, which features a half-hour stretch of pure slapstick: piglets running loose, physical comedy, chaos.
Two unique performances
While with her current programme Alexandra Grimal relies strongly on the collective energy with her band, Thierry Escaich will be performing solo at the organ. Here are two different approaches; one can feed of a musician’s energy, the push and pull of a musical conversation, while the other enters the rabbit hole of his own imagination. When Alexandra Grimal comes to Luxembourg on 15.01., she hopes to bring with her «very adventurous and magical music, unexpected, something that moves the air so that freedom becomes contagious.»
Thierry Escaich, meanwhile, will take us on a special version of a world tour in «Cityscapes» on 09.11., playing improvised pieces inspired by the cities he has visited, including Paris, St. Petersburg, New York or Buenos Aires. For New York, he arrives with a head full of references: the motoric pulse of John Adams and Steve Reich, yellow taxis, Fifth Avenue, the jazz clubs of Harlem – and the opening scene of Taxi Driver, steam rising from the pavement like the city is breathing. This is Thierry Escaich’s starting point. Where it goes from there is anyone’s guess, including his.
Improvisation let’s audiences discover music that will never be repeated anywhere in the exact same way twice. Both the musical path and destination are unknown – how far will the musicians transport you into unfamiliar territory? For the artists it’s the accumulation of everything they know, have seen and been inspired by, and then letting go of all of it just enough to make room for the element of surprise. It’s a unique, limitless conversation that can carry you in every direction. But in front of you are musicians who have honed their craft so deeply, so devotedly, that it’s bound to be magical.
