#improvisation

#improvisation

"She's so funny, she improvs so much," Sennott says. "She was like, 'Can I have a mullet and a bedazzled vape and a British accent?' And I was like, 'Go off. Go off, girl.' I love her so much as a friend and also to collaborate with 'cause she brings so much to the table."

Over the past two decades, the Japanese artist Aki Sasamoto has developed a unique performance/installation practice in which she produces installations of absurd sculptural devices-from haemorrhoid cushions to oversized fishing lures-that, in turn, serve as an object-based score and environment for improvised performances that combine humorous spoken narratives with physical actions and mark-making. The artist's first mid-career survey, Aki Sasamoto's Life Laboratory at the Museum of Contemporary Art Tokyo (MOT), traces the evolution of this practice through a sharp combination of installations, documentation and live performances.

But Prescott, Arizona's Spafford walks the talk. The jam band, co-founded in 2009 by songwriter Brian Moss, has released six studio albums and at least a dozen live albums, all without the infrastructure of a record label. A popular fixture on the festival circuit, Spafford has played at many high-profile events, including Bonnaroo, and Peach Music Festival. The group's eclectic approach is built on improvisation and adapting covers to their own style.

Some bands use a variety of traditional instruments to make music and then there are Sirom. A trio that formed a decade ago over interests in post-rock and drone (their name means around or widely in their native Slovenian), they list more than two dozen instruments in the liner notes of their fifth album, from the Persian gheychak to the Mongolian morin khuur. They create a palette that's kaleidoscopic in its textural, dynamic and melodic explorations of sound.

A comedian takes five shots of whiskey in a row and tries to perform an improvised play with sober comedians. What could go wrong?! Drunk Theatre is the entirely improvised, unpredictable, and crazy comedy show that'll kick your weekend into overdrive. See what the SF Chronicle, CBS, LA Times, SF Weekly, SFGate, Thrillist, and TimeOut have all been talking about.

Orcutt begins to stutter, start, and stop only 40 seconds into "An L.A. Funeral," his wild leaps between notes prompting Miller and Shelley to shift their approach and give him more space. "Wedding" is a gentle little drift for nearly two minutes, but, when Orcutt suddenly grabs a note and squeezes it like he's trying to strangle the truth from its squeal, Miller and Orcutt shift again, their linear rhythm becoming a circle, a pas de deux as they wait for their third to work through his rage.

Born with albinism in 1936, Pascoal grew up in a small rural town in the Brazilian state of Alagoas. His parents worked in the fields, but the young Pascoal spent much of his time indoors due to his condition. While vision deficiencies led him to drop out of school in the fourth grade, Pascoal's ears guided him towards music. He learned to play accordion, flute and piano.

"I feel a lot less crazy there, as you learn the ups and downs and how to just genuinely enjoy it. Comedy is at its best when you're being loose and at its worst when you're really tense and overthinking things. All my best stuff I've ever gotten on the show has been Plan D or 'I don't know, how about this?' It's not the thing I'd spent all night meticulously trying to make work."

The potential for chaos at jazz festivals often stems from the unique situations created when local musicians augment visiting ensembles, demonstrating skill and adaptability.

Gonzalo fuses his architectural roots with a fearless, hands-on spirit-one that thrives on texture, contrast, and the thrill of the unexpected.