by Paul Klemperer

There is a mystical aspect of music that is shared by all cultures. It involves the idea that music expresses in the external world some kind of internal truth or power. Around the world religious rituals, political rituals, love rituals, almost any ritual you can think of usually has some link to music. In our beloved late-20th century American society, music is often reduced to a mundane commodity or recreational background noise. But there are shining moments when its power reminds us of the deeper things in life, when it acts as a mirror for those things we most care about.

I toss that nugget of philosophy into the ring as a way of framing the issue of Austin's growing size and changing character. I've written before on the shape of things to come for Austin's music scene (Austin Downtown Arts Volume 4, Number 8), and I'd like to develop some of those ideas further here. Specifically, Austin musicians increasingly must grapple with the tension between commercial and artistic choices. As the city grows there is a tendency for it to become more like other big American cities, and for the music here to become more commercially homogeneous. But at the same time there are greater opportunities for creative artists to survive and flourish. The music we make here is a mirror of our city's character. In the face of economic pressures to conform, we strive for a unique identity.

In the struggle to survive, and beyond this to find one's own personal niche, a musician or band may lose sight of the continuum. Sometimes the idea of a music community seems idealistic as we scramble for low-paying gigs in a competitive market. But the fact that we have a strong music community is undeniable, and it is often surprising how much this community transcends different musical styles, cliques and trends. Austin has a reputation as a creative musical enclave, not only nationally but increasingly around the globe. In my travels as a road musician I am continually struck by the ripples our little city makes in the larger music world. We seem to have an inordinate amount of creative energy here.

Which brings us to the title of this column. A venerable part of the jazz tradition is "woodshedding," with the concomitant image of holing-up in the woodshed, just you and your instrument, working out all your melodies, licks and ideas, until you are ready to bring them out for public consumption. Part of what makes Austin distinct from other music communities is that it encourages woodshedding. You don't see a lot of players getting onstage in Nashville or L.A. saying, "Here's a little sumpin I been workin on, and it goes like this..." For jazz players in particular, jam sessions and sit-ins are extremely informal and friendly in comparison to other cities. It may not seem like it sometimes, but just take your horn to a cutting session in Manhattan if you need a reminder.

In Austin we are able to work out our ideas, develop our style, separate the wheat from the chaff, in a way that is extraordinarily encouraging and good-natured. As everyone knows by now, there are more live music venues per capita here than pretty much anywhere in the world (I'm not sure if this has been scientifically proven, but I have yet to see it disproved). You can go out any night of the week and hear live music--some great, some awful, and a lot just taking shape. This creative process is the heart of our music community, and we encourage it, consciously or not, just by being part of it.

At DiverseArts we had tossed around the idea of a regular music column for some time. At first it was going to focus on jazz in Austin. Then it seemed more appropriate to expand the idea to improvisational music in general. But this begged the semantic question of what constitutes improvisational music. Getting to the heart of it, I believe, is the creative act. The artists that dare to create, to be distinct (or don't know enough not to be) are on the frontlines. They come stumbling out of the woodshed into the glare of day (or more often the glare of stagelighting), eager to share their discoveries and inventions, for better or worse. The focus of this column is that creative endeavor. Bring it to the table; let's see how it tastes.