I'm in the Band

I've been playing with a concert band for a while now, trying to get back into the groove of playing regularly, and noting the similarities between band and improv that I can see now that I've done both. Of note: group mind in improv is equivalent to both the director/conductor combined with the sheet music, and also blend (how the various parts of the music fit together) and balance (the relative strength/intensity/loudness of the various instruments being equivalent). But I had a significant realization when listening to a recording of a performance we had done.

What I noticed is that the sound you hear from the audience is completely different from the sound you hear being in the band. Playing bassoon, I can generally hear a couple of flutes, the bass clarinet, the French horns, and tubas clearest, but when everyone's playing, I generally can't hear much of the rest of the band unless I'm really listening for it. The songs we were playing sounded a certain way (that is to say, what parts I could hear) from my seat. But when I listened to our recordings – holy crap did that music sound different. The sum of all the parts of the band adds up totally differently from the point of view of the audience: harmonies suddenly stand out, small flourishes suddenly exist, and bass line sounds complete. (Also, the bassoon has disappeared, but alas, such is life.)

Now improv has a unique design when it's being performed by a team, in that there may 2-3 actors playing front and center, but you'll also have a gaggle of players off stage watching. These sideline players are typically thought of as an artifact or casualty of team play, but should really be thought of in a much more practical and utilitarian way. By standing on the sideline, these players effectively become an additional audience of sorts, and because they are no longer playing, they have the opportunity to step out of the show, in a way, and ask the question: “what does this show need?” This is the equivalent of me having a twenty measure break, getting out of my seat, and sitting down in the auditorium.

This is such an important facet of team play and collaboration that I'm astonished no one has (to my knowledge) considered before. A sideline player doesn't just listen for an opportunity to edit or characters to call back, but should also be taking the time as an audience-player (plaudience?) to think about what has been established thematically and scenically and consider what choices can heighten dramatic elements. With a few minutes of downtime, we can analyze the show and improve it, and this feature of improvisation is just as important being on stage and can help elevate a show from “randomly assembled series of scenes” to “art piece strategically arranged”.

Improv Class

If God created improv on a Friday, then by Sunday afternoon he would no doubt created the improv class. But the question is: why?

A student takes an improv class for a very simple reason – he wants to master the craft. Plain and simple. He's in an improv group, maybe saw a show, or maybe everyone just thinks that he's the “funny one” in the group, and wants to learn how to improvise. There are a number of viable learning routes open: read a book, find an improv blog (thanks for reading!), just plain do it, but the improv class carries with it a certain legitimacy. It's a true apprenticeship, and you will learn a lot (depending on who your teacher is) by doing it and getting notes. It's these early nudges, tips, pointers, and rules that will help beginning and intermediate improvisers get a handle on how to do this. Especially in the beginning where everything feels very random, for the very reason that it is improv – other than a few general (and ultimately sparse, and usually unexacting) rules, there is too much room, and the guidance is helpful. There's also something very legitimate about being able to say “I took an improv class”, and it's that last word “class” that makes it seem like we're really doing something instead of screwing around on stage, aimless.

A training center offers improv classes for an equally simple reason – to make money. Improv classes are pricey (most students will pay very large sums of money in the hopes that they will learn to do this well), and have very little overhead. In fact, teaching is one of the few ways that a professional improviser can hope to turn a living out of improv. Performing is inconsistent and certainly doesn't pay well enough to turn a career out of, so teaching classes and doing corporate training turn out to be fairly steady and lucrative enough to at least pay rent. This is why it's rare for a training center to drop students and very common for them to offer ways to keep making money off of former students who still are in the “learning” phase. Retake classes at half off! Elective courses! An unending “minor league”! The training center often becomes the big cash cow for a theater, generating a lot of income, and consistently too, because as long as students want to learn, they'll pay for it.

A theater operates a training center for a fair more complicated reason – indoctrination. Every theater I've ever been too, or talked to someone from (with the exception of one) has some sort of central philosophy, an ideology, or heck, even just a modus operandi that is universal across the people of that theater. This doesn't happen by accident, this mutual way of thought, its a deliberate creation that comes as a result or the training center. And every theater (with the exception of, actually the same one as before) requires that in order to perform on their stages, and to play under their banner, that they complete the training center. This is an attempt to insure not just that the players have a sort of minimum level of skill, but also to make sure that everyone approaches things the same way and has a common language, that allows the oldest and the newest graduates the capability of stepping on stage together with success. These are the things that the khakis of the organization find important – the iO for example, carries the group work thing very strongly, and its something that they want their graduates to have in their toolbox.

So that's it – the three reasons: learning, money, doctrine. In a way, everyone does get what they want.