Improvisation

In my previous post, I mentioned my love for jazz music and how I find great pleasure in combining the concept of jazz with my experience in Panama. Continuing with this theme, I'd like to focus on the idea of jazz as metaphor for life. One of my literary heroes is Jack Kerouac, the somewhat obsessive Beat writer who spilled his mind's content onto a spool of teletype paper in one long, continuous stream of consciousness. Kerouac's writing style attempted to match tempo, chord progression and energy level of Bebop era jazz, measure for measure. Maniacally typing away at his manual keys, Kerouac resourcefully prevented the disruption of his thoughts by eliminating the need to change typing paper. While writing On the Road, there simply was no page end, only a massive rolling stream of consciousness fueled in part by crazy life observations, Benzedrine, and jazz music. I often wonder what Jack would have done with an ergonomic keyboard and word processing software. Somehow the romance is completely lost with Microsoft Word involved. My point is; Kerouac nailed it. He understood that jazz music, as art form, so accurately mirrors life.

The most distinguishing aspect of jazz is improvisation... "in the moment"..."making it up as you go along"...."without a net"...all cliche'...yet true. Legend has it, Miles Davis once fired a member of his band because he overheard the poor guy practicing solos in his hotel room. Miles Davis deeply valued the purity of spontaneity in his music. He must have understood; life allows no time for rehearsal. It's happening right now...you're either in the show, in the audience or outside in the alley. There's a certain dare-devil quality in every jazz performer. To some degree, it's about taking risk, betting on your own skill and making decisions on the fly. A jazz performer needs to be self-assured on the stand, as a matter of survival. It must be why they refer to one another as "cats". Reflex, balance and heightened intuition are required to take what's thrown at you and make it work. The group is there for support, but when it's solo time, it's all you, baby. If you can't hang with the cats, you'll be pushed back in the rhythm section or possibly thrown out of the jam session altogether...at least, according to some legendary stories from jazz historians. If jazz is a metaphor for life and the competitive and risky aspect is a metaphor for entrepreneurship, then I must be mid-solo, in the middle of an intense jam session.

Finding, buying and developing real estate in Latin America is kind of like the hardcore machismo of the early jazz era. The comparison is simple on a number of levels. First of all, if you want to be down by law, you better have some chops and get booted to the scene, otherwise don't bother showing up to jam. You'll swing like a rusty gate and won't get the gig. Therefore, no bread. If this is the dealio, don't play the refrain. Refrain from playing and go to the 'shed instead. Second, be sure you're jake with the cats in your combo. Your cats need to be tight and know where the changes are, because you'll need them in the pocket for your heat...Also, you'll be expected to lock during the out head, or lay out for a stroll. Third, always expect the unexpected. You'll need to have your bag, 'cause you'll never know when you'll need licks of your own. Finally, improvise, improvise, improvise...nothing will ever go exactly as you plan. You'll find clams that could cause a train wreck and you could lose your scratch...You'll need to adapt to double time tempos, as well as other cat's cornball chops. It's good to be poly-tonal and have more than one key in your noodle at any given time. If one number ends, don't snap your cap. You can quickly switch to another groove...One more thing, watch out for squatters! Now, get your ax out there and blow, amigo!

Translation available upon request.