Myk Freedman Makes Room for an Ensemble of One

 

MW: How has working solo affected your approach to composing?

 

MF: In the past, my music was designed as a springboard for group improvisation within the framework of the tunes. I loved having room for different dynamics and interactions within the ensemble. Now I’m striving to keep that headspace to myself, which is complicated. I’m coming up with arrangements, some of them quite specific, and this foundation helps set the stage so that I end up in more interesting places. Throughout the creative process, I thought a lot about the people who played the pieces before: choosing these familiar pieces fuels an interaction between the guitar and something other than just myself. I’m interacting with the history of the pieces as well—bringing in elements from previous interpretations. One thing Anthony Coleman told me, which had a huge impact, is that before he records a tune he researches its history. When he was working on the standard “Dinah,” he amassed something like 150 recordings of it and would listen to all of them. There was one notable solo that he heard remnants of several versions later. The reference might be very clear or really obscure, but because Coleman got so deep into that tune, it all made sense to him. It was only after digesting this deep history that he’d feel ready to go perform it himself. With my process, there’s a similar thread.

 

MW: How are you negotiating issues surrounding the pared-down instrumentation?

 

MF: One rule I had with St. Dirt—and any group I’ve led—was that if you don’t like what you’re playing or you don’t feel good at the gig, it’s your fault because you can change what’s happening.  You’re free! If you think you’re supposed to be playing a certain way, you’re mistaken: I’ve invited you to join to be yourself. I keep this idea in mind when I feel blocked—even from the point view of technical limitations. I ask myself, “Why is there an expectation that I have to continue playing in a certain way?” Playing solo, I can move things around—tempo, form, etc.—to achieve more freedom and fluidity.
 

MW: Working solo is intensely personal. How has that dimension grown for you?

 

MF:  Before I started working on this album, I never had a sense of what I sound like just playing my music alone, and whether it’s actually interesting. I wanted to find that out, so I started recording myself every day and listening back in different contexts. In the beginning, I was envisioning the record on electric guitar, but when I’d listen back, it sounded too much like mediocre jazz playing. I decided I needed to find my own tone that would separate me from the expectations many people have when they hear solo guitar. My current setup is an acoustic carbon-fibre travel guitar with a contact mike on it, routed to two different amps. Hopefully, now when you hear me play an open E chord, your brain doesn’t go to the millions of places it could go! I actually played a solo gig last week of these older tunes and I was really nervous—and I don’t really get nervous ever.

 

MW:  Is there a meditative aspect to this process?

 

MF:  I’m currently coming off some pretty big life changes. One thing I did in the last several years was get deep into practicing yoga. When you’re doing yoga, you’re looking at where your mind goes when you meditate. You’re not judging, but examining it or observing it. Right now I’m doing something similar in reflecting on my past. I could’ve written all new music, but I guess there is a sense of sorting out some self things. There’s a comfort in going back, while you’re going forward.