Improvisation exists in varying degrees. Most jazz uses a set structure, based on an already-written song, with some sections that are "made-up" at the instant they are played. At the other extreme, free-form improv typically is totally spontaneous, with no predetermined melody, harmony, or structure, with sometimes even tonality being abandoned. Most of what I do falls somewhere in between, but almost always being totally "made-up". It's just a question of when I did the making-up. Usually I will spend a few minutes coming up with a melody I like before I record, and then elaborate the theme during the improvisation. Other times I will start recording before I have any idea what I'm going to do. It's a very pure form of creativity. Stephen Nachmanovitch wrote a great book on this subject, Free Play: Improvisation in Life and Art.

One of the wonderful things about the piano as an instrument is that when a performer has a strong grasp of music theory and idioms, they can be left to their creativity to come up with something in real-time. I consider this to be the most honest of performances, since there is nothing between the emotion and thoughts of the performer and what the listener ends up hearing. The drawback is that much of what gets improvised may not have the same musical quality as something which is crafted for days or months before being performed. For this reason, improvisation may not appeal to every listener's taste. The comparison isn't so different from that of a quick speech or interview being contrasted to a book: one may be heartfelt and candid, but the other may be higher quality and more technically polished. This is why I like doing the improvs every week, like an informal journal. When I go back and hear the clips I've done, I often find a gem among the clout that I then generate into something more extensive. Nonetheless, I value improv with an affection for its sincerity more than other forms of music. Mistakes are prominent, and sometimes even form a part of the piece's character. For a longer look at improvisation in many musical forms, I recommend Improvisation: Its Nature and Practice in Music by Derek Bailey.

The first time I realized I could improvise was when, struggling with some sight-reading during a rehearsal, my high-school music teacher told me to "try less to hit the notes, and more to fake it.. The negative connotation here isn't warranted, because it's a very liberating thing for a musician to learn. Outside of the (properly) strict classical perfomance, he may rely upon his ear as much as his eyes. I hadn't been told that before. So with that understanding, and studies of theory, you gradually gain the ability to "improvise" or "move your way around" already-written music. With practice, "faking it" becomes "enhancing it" (or "embellishing it" as some seem to enjoy doing). Technically, that's improvisation.

But coming up with totally original ideas for the songs requires much more, particularly if you don't want every song to sound like every other new-age pianist. (No, I don't consider myself a new-age pianist.) There are two challenges here. The first is keeping your hands from writing the songs. This sounds dumb, but trained musicians fall into patterns of playing that are reminiscent of other songs they have played, or themes they are familiar with. You know these when you hear them, because they take the form of "riffs" or oft-used phrases that musicians memorize, and chord progressions/melodic resolutions they have played a thousand times. It takes discipline to force your brain to write the piece before it gets to your hands.

The second challenge is to listen to yourself in real-time, maintaining some objectivity about what you hear. This is important for all musicians, but takes on a unique role when improvising. It's important for all people (musicians or not), for that matter. Hearing yourself as others hear you is paramount to generating communication that works. James Boyk touched on this here. For improvisation, this isn't necessarily a matter of appealing to the listener. It's also about seeing value in what you do as an outsider does, and in my experience, means being less critical of my own creative ideas, and rather improving them. One of my favorite books on this topic is W.A. Mathieu's The Listening Book. Highly recommended, and served as the basis for my own instruction when I was teaching piano.

I use different recordings techniques, depending on my mood, the piano (a Weber grand) being in tune, and time of day (kids in bed, kids screaming in house, etc.). When recording live, I record directly from the mics to a USB D/A converter on my PowerBook. From there some automated mastering is done with Pro Tools, the recording is exported as an mp3, and posted to the site. Other times I record from GigaStudios's Yamaha or Steinway collections, which let's me keep the whole thing digital from beginning to end. I don't prefer this method, though. PMI's Grandioso Bosendorfer 290 could change my mind. This is now my piano of choice.

While I have lots of gear (most of which I regret when the newer stuff hits the market), the products I use for the daily improv are listen below.

• AKG SolidTube and C3000 condenser microphones
• Tascam US-428 USB interface controller and D/A converter
• Digidesign Pro Tools recording software, with various plug-ins
• SONAR by Cakewalk
• GigaStudio by Tascam

The truth is, I'm not giving it away. It is mine: I wrote it, I performed it, I recorded it, and I have the copyright. Just because I'm sharing it without cost doesn't mean I'm relinquishing my ownership. In fact, no one is allowed to distribute these songs but me. So why not share it?

If you like what you hear, you can help and encourage me by purchasing CDs. This is the preferred format anyhow, since they sound better, are remastered, and won't go away when I run out of disk space.