I recently heard someone at my school make a statement to this effect:
'I don't really listen to music. I have maybe 10GB of music, and probably half of that is stuff I worked on, different versions of mixes and whatnot. I don't really acquire music; I work on music all day, and for me getting music is like working in an office all day and stopping by Staples on the way home to browse office supplies.'
Let's start out with the fact that this statement is a logical fallacy - in fact it is several. We're assuming that the cause of stopping by Staples on the way home to browse office supplies is the unstated reason that we work with office supplies all day. What if, for example, your home printer was out of paper?
Stepping back from the logic of the statement, let us look at it's implications for those who are preparing themselves to work in the music industry, even as engineers and producers. I personally find the statement rather horrifying. First of all, as an engineer and producer, I believe it to be one's duty to familiarize oneself with as much music as possible, in order that one might better do one's job, regardless of the band or situation one is presented with. If one is dependent on reference material when working on something, then one forgoes the possibility of bringing anything new to the process. Perhaps that is what is desired, but then what exactly *are* you bringing to the process? The knowledge of what this compressor does, or what that plug-in will do? If the sound is pre-determined like that, then you're really just the trained monkey, pushing buttons to make things happen.
(For you non engineers out there, reference material refers to, say, mixing a country singer who says 'I want this to sound like the new Taylor Swift album' so you listen to the new Taylor Swift album (you poor bastard) to get the sound in your head, to analyze it and make what you're working on sound as much like it as possible.)
I once heard someone say 'If music is work, you're doing it wrong'. While I do not feel quite that strongly about it, I agree with the sentiment. There is always a certain level of work involved. Maybe you have to play some music you're not that fond of, but it pays the bills so you can play the stuff you like. Maybe you write musicals because that's what you enjoy, but you have to write commercial jingles because it's what pays the bills. The point is that you should still enjoy the music. If the music isn't the endgoal, then what is? Some pretty sounding audio that you made sound cool with the newest gear? If I, as a musician, was working with a producer and I asked him what the endgoal was of the process, and his response was 'making some kickass audio' I would probably (contract allowing) pack up my stuff and walk out then and there. I'm glad you want to make some kickass audio. But if you're just thinking of the music as audio to be manipulated, then you're missing something. Let me elaborate.
One of my favorite albums of all time is Jackson Browne's 'Solo Acoustic, Vol. 1'. When I got it, I was already a fan of Browne's music, and greatly enjoyed it. But when I listened to this album, all of which consists only of Browne and a piano or guitar, I suddenly realized how beautiful so much of his music was, how well written the lyrics were and how much feeling was in so much of it. Even albums such as 'Lawyers in Love', which I previously had regarded with a sort of vague disregard as 'well, it was the eighties, y'know?' suddenly warranted a second hearing, and I have discovered new and great things about them. But as great as these well produced albums are, with all the work that went into making them sound incredible, the one that grabs me as the great one every time is the one which lacks almost any production at all. The guitar has that slightly bright unreal quality that acoustic guitar pickups so often do, the piano is rough and at times, feels distant, and his voice is clearly being recorded through something like an SM58, with minimal warmth or breadth to it. But it's the music that brings me back every time.
On the other hand, I know that a hell of a lot of production went into Missy Higgins' second album, 'On A Clear Night'. The whole thing is incredibly well produced, and sounds quite nice. All too much of the music on the album, however, is fluff. Do not get me wrong, there are a few good songs on there, but I find that overall the album feels like a lot of repetitive fluff wrapped up in a bunch of, well, pretty audio. And I wish that a lot more time had gone into making the music good then into making it sound good. I'd rather go listen to the rough tones of Jackson Browne playing an acoustic live show, with all its' feeling and power, then to the pretty but too often boring tones of Missy's second album.
I have no illusions about making massive quantities of money in this industry. I have no plans to strike it rich. I'm in this for the music, because the music is what lets me keep moving every day. If you don't really care about the music, then why work with it all the time? And don't say 'I care about the music, I just don't want to listen to it all the time and think music all the time. I'll work with it, but it stays in the office'. That's not care, or love, or craft. That's a hobby. That's a job, and that's not how you get successful. I walk past the Securian Center in the cities every day, and I see the young financial guys going in and out. And the ones who're successful, who're wearing the three piece suits and carrying the nice briefcases, are the ones who go home and think about their work.
I'm not saying I spend all of my waking moments blasting music out of my computer and iPod. But I listen to music. Occasionally I'll even sit down, make myself some tea, and just listen to an album be it Missy Higgins, Jackson Browne, Pink Floyd, Dessa, Jethro Tull, The Eagles, The Killers, Poets of the Fall, Queen, Nirvana, Deadsoul Tribe, Allen/Lande. The music is why I'm doing this. And the day it starts being work that I leave at the office, or just the way I pay the bills, is the day I say 'Time to move on'.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
My Two Cents - So why do you want to be a music major?
One of the most common questions to receive as a music student is always 'Why?', both from people you meet, and, on those long nights of working on music theory, part writing and other such niceties of the field, other music students. The answers that are given are fascinating in the extremist. Here's a few of them, and my thoughts, opinions, and a few other people's as well mixed in for good measure. (Please note that none of this is aimed at anybody in specific)
Q: Music, really? Why?
A: For the money
Q: Hahahaha... no, seriously, why?
This is actually an answer I still hear; possibly because I go to a contemporary music school, but still, not a good sign. While it is possible to make your fortune in music, the odds are stacked rather heavily against you. Very heavily. Veeeeeerrry heavily. The people who make money in music aren't the musicians. It's the business people. And even the business people are having more trouble doing that these days. If you're going into music for the money, then let me tell you now; leave music school, and go get an MBA. You'll probably end up paying just as much, making more money, and I won't have to listen to you bitch about how much you hate doing theory homework.
Q: Music? Seriously?
A: It's what I'm good at.
I'll accept that. It's really as good a reason as any, although a little enthusiasm is probably wise. I suppose there are worse things you could be studying. Like... art history (not to hate on what I'm sure is a noble and important academic field. But that's really all it is; an academic field.) Hopefully you enjoy what you're good at, that's all I'm saying.
Q: You're actually a music major?
A: Yes. I love listening to music, and I've written a few songs.
(I'm not kidding. I've heard this one.)
I've heard this one. And I've heard the outcome from the guys who love listening to music, and they've written a few songs, so why not go to music school. And most of them either change majors reallly fast, or they suffer through it and find something else to do, or worse, they suffer through it, then try to function as a musician while trying to ignore the fact that they learned it all. Unless you're really a music geek, fewer things kill the enjoyment of music for many people faster then actually studying it. I feel pretty safe in saying that music theory is the #1 cause of music school dropouts. Either people can't quite get their heads around it, or they're finding out that learning how it works takes the magic away. Personally, I feel that finding out how things work adds to the magic, but unfortunately, my sense of wonder is a little twisted around from most people's, and music theory is all about how music works.
Q: So. Music, huh?
A: It's what I do.
Many people don't see the difference between this and 'it's what I'm good at'. Let me explain; the former is a declaration that 'I have some proficiency in it, so I might as well do it'. This one, however, is a declaration that 'It's what I'm good at, it's all I'm good at, and I am, indeed, very good at it, to the point where I've focused on it above all others'. This one's usually a good reason, although buyer beware, as it can lead to the dreaded ego enlargement, although that's not always bad, so long as you do keep in mind what you do and what you don't do.
Q: You really decided on music?
A: OMG yes it's like my life!
Okay. You have enthusiasm. This is good. You have focus. This is also good. I do recommend having at least one non-musical hobby or activity, though, for both your sanity and others.
Well, that's my two cents on the most common ones I hear. If y'all have suggestions of more reasons that you've heard that you want me to talk about, toss me an e-mail or leave a comment, and if I get enough, or if I get a good one, I'll post it.
Q: Music, really? Why?
A: For the money
Q: Hahahaha... no, seriously, why?
This is actually an answer I still hear; possibly because I go to a contemporary music school, but still, not a good sign. While it is possible to make your fortune in music, the odds are stacked rather heavily against you. Very heavily. Veeeeeerrry heavily. The people who make money in music aren't the musicians. It's the business people. And even the business people are having more trouble doing that these days. If you're going into music for the money, then let me tell you now; leave music school, and go get an MBA. You'll probably end up paying just as much, making more money, and I won't have to listen to you bitch about how much you hate doing theory homework.
Q: Music? Seriously?
A: It's what I'm good at.
I'll accept that. It's really as good a reason as any, although a little enthusiasm is probably wise. I suppose there are worse things you could be studying. Like... art history (not to hate on what I'm sure is a noble and important academic field. But that's really all it is; an academic field.) Hopefully you enjoy what you're good at, that's all I'm saying.
Q: You're actually a music major?
A: Yes. I love listening to music, and I've written a few songs.
(I'm not kidding. I've heard this one.)
I've heard this one. And I've heard the outcome from the guys who love listening to music, and they've written a few songs, so why not go to music school. And most of them either change majors reallly fast, or they suffer through it and find something else to do, or worse, they suffer through it, then try to function as a musician while trying to ignore the fact that they learned it all. Unless you're really a music geek, fewer things kill the enjoyment of music for many people faster then actually studying it. I feel pretty safe in saying that music theory is the #1 cause of music school dropouts. Either people can't quite get their heads around it, or they're finding out that learning how it works takes the magic away. Personally, I feel that finding out how things work adds to the magic, but unfortunately, my sense of wonder is a little twisted around from most people's, and music theory is all about how music works.
Q: So. Music, huh?
A: It's what I do.
Many people don't see the difference between this and 'it's what I'm good at'. Let me explain; the former is a declaration that 'I have some proficiency in it, so I might as well do it'. This one, however, is a declaration that 'It's what I'm good at, it's all I'm good at, and I am, indeed, very good at it, to the point where I've focused on it above all others'. This one's usually a good reason, although buyer beware, as it can lead to the dreaded ego enlargement, although that's not always bad, so long as you do keep in mind what you do and what you don't do.
Q: You really decided on music?
A: OMG yes it's like my life!
Okay. You have enthusiasm. This is good. You have focus. This is also good. I do recommend having at least one non-musical hobby or activity, though, for both your sanity and others.
Well, that's my two cents on the most common ones I hear. If y'all have suggestions of more reasons that you've heard that you want me to talk about, toss me an e-mail or leave a comment, and if I get enough, or if I get a good one, I'll post it.
Monday, February 22, 2010
My Two Cents - Recording Engineers and Music Theory
This is a subject which has been annoying the hell out of me over the last six months, because in the recording technology program at the school I currently attend, McNally Smith College of Music, all recording technology students have to take at least one level of music theory, which at this particular college, because of the school's input, goes roughly from 'This is a staff' to 'That's what a dominant seventh chord is'. Now I realize a lot of people have trouble with music theory. But I'm continuously hearing Recording Tech students bitching about how they don't see why they should have to study any music theory; in one extreme case, the individual pointed out that he had computer programs which can tell him all the information that he'll learn to recognize in Theory I, and do all the stuff he'll learn in Ear Training.
*sigh*
Alright, here's my two cents on this subject, for posterity.
Let's assume for a second that you're studying recording technology in order to, say, record music. Now, in order to do this, you're going to have to interact with musicians, and it helps to have at least a little bit of a common vocabulary, and it is immensely time saving. For the musician, it's rather disconcerting when they try to talk to you and you have to reorient half the stuff they say into layman's terms. Being able to tell if someone is in tune with the rest of the music is important, and if they're in tune with themselves. If it's the sound they're going for, then that's good. But what start out as small issues during a recording session start getting bigger and bigger as the process continues, and don't forget that while the artist is the one whose face ends up on the cover, you are still credited somewhere, and if those problems end up with a major flaw on the record, then people within the industry are just as likely to give a stern look at the engineer as the artist (depending on how wildly successful the artist is, possibly moreso)
And just to reiterate a major point, musician's like to be able to talk about what they're doing with the engineer without having to repeat themselves a half dozen times, and may even ask you for your opinion on something, and it makes a good impression if you can just answer without having to dumb the whole thing down.
And I'm glad that there are computer programs out there that help people figure this stuff out, but do they tell you what it means? Let's say a piece is in the key of F major. Alright, your computer program spits that out at you, and what do you do with it? Without a knowledge of music theory, it's just useless data. Moreover, audio recognition software is getting better, but it is still far from infallible, and if it spits out a wrong piece of information, then you could end up getting completely screwed.
And don't forget, there are two phrases that the client/artist never likes to hear during a session. The first one is 'I can't do that'; while not always avoidable, it should be avoided as much as possible. And the second, more applicable one here, is 'I don't understand/know what you're talking about.'
And finally, let's not forget that the people who say that you should know this stuff have been doing this for a hell of a lot longer then you have, and they probably have a better idea of what'll help you be successful in the industry then you do at this point. What appears to be busywork does in fact have a purpose, especially when it comes to the application of music theory.
For those of you who still think I'm crazy, check out this interview with Craig Alvin; he's a Nashville based recording engineer, and he talks a bit about what it takes to be an in-demand recording engineer (in other words, a gainfully employed one.
And that is all I will say on the subject. Hopefully my next post will be about something of more interest to everyone.
*sigh*
Alright, here's my two cents on this subject, for posterity.
Let's assume for a second that you're studying recording technology in order to, say, record music. Now, in order to do this, you're going to have to interact with musicians, and it helps to have at least a little bit of a common vocabulary, and it is immensely time saving. For the musician, it's rather disconcerting when they try to talk to you and you have to reorient half the stuff they say into layman's terms. Being able to tell if someone is in tune with the rest of the music is important, and if they're in tune with themselves. If it's the sound they're going for, then that's good. But what start out as small issues during a recording session start getting bigger and bigger as the process continues, and don't forget that while the artist is the one whose face ends up on the cover, you are still credited somewhere, and if those problems end up with a major flaw on the record, then people within the industry are just as likely to give a stern look at the engineer as the artist (depending on how wildly successful the artist is, possibly moreso)
And just to reiterate a major point, musician's like to be able to talk about what they're doing with the engineer without having to repeat themselves a half dozen times, and may even ask you for your opinion on something, and it makes a good impression if you can just answer without having to dumb the whole thing down.
And I'm glad that there are computer programs out there that help people figure this stuff out, but do they tell you what it means? Let's say a piece is in the key of F major. Alright, your computer program spits that out at you, and what do you do with it? Without a knowledge of music theory, it's just useless data. Moreover, audio recognition software is getting better, but it is still far from infallible, and if it spits out a wrong piece of information, then you could end up getting completely screwed.
And don't forget, there are two phrases that the client/artist never likes to hear during a session. The first one is 'I can't do that'; while not always avoidable, it should be avoided as much as possible. And the second, more applicable one here, is 'I don't understand/know what you're talking about.'
And finally, let's not forget that the people who say that you should know this stuff have been doing this for a hell of a lot longer then you have, and they probably have a better idea of what'll help you be successful in the industry then you do at this point. What appears to be busywork does in fact have a purpose, especially when it comes to the application of music theory.
For those of you who still think I'm crazy, check out this interview with Craig Alvin; he's a Nashville based recording engineer, and he talks a bit about what it takes to be an in-demand recording engineer (in other words, a gainfully employed one.
And that is all I will say on the subject. Hopefully my next post will be about something of more interest to everyone.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Beepity Beep And Other Foolish Things - Chiptunes!
I have for some reason had in my life an attraction to chiptunes, those devilish things, and to 8-bit music in general; unfortunately for you, whomsoever you may be, you will probably hear about this attraction every once in a while.
Chiptunes are music that has been created in the vain of classic video game music, often using hardware to create this effect, rather then software. They vary greatly from individual from individual; one of the best repositories I have found of chiptunes is the rather magnificent 8bitpeoples, and it is also a great example of how they vary. My first experience with the genre was while playing the rather graphically magnificent and conceptually stimulating game 'Darwinia', which takes place entirely inside a graphic representation of a computer network gone themepark; for the soundtrack, Introversion grabbed a few tunes from the rather magnificent electronic musician Tim Lamb, stage names trash80 and tresk. Now as one quickly discovers, his tunes are not usually hardcore chiptune, but rather an amalgamation of electronica and chiptunes, but they're easily a gateway to the harder stuff, such as the just as if not more magnificent Anamanaguchi (and now, seriously, if you haven't clicked on a single link yet, that one is the one that you should) and Bit Shifter (again, worth checking out).
I have had many debates with people about this genre of music; the classical musicians, especially, tend to argue that chiptunes lack expressiveness or feeling, to which I say you have obviously never heard True Fidelity by Twilight Electric; within it there is an expressiveness of a sort that I have never heard elsewhere. Chiptunes have a sort of purity about them; they harken back to a more innocent age when video games didn't have to have majestic scores behind them, sounding all too much like Pirates of the Caribbean (for those of you not in the know, I'm talking about the score to Oblivion- during the title screen I've literally had people wandering into the room going 'PIRATES! OOooo... oh... nevermind...') Instead, you had a simple 8-bit soundtrack coming through a tiny speaker, which still evoked emotions of joy, and when the inevitable speeding hi-hat combo came along to signify a boss, dread.
Chiptunes have a strange sort of power over a certain selection of us; they transcend analog, and are a thing of the purely digital realm, for they are nigh impossible to recreate with analog. Oh, you can play them on a guitar or a keyboard, but they then aren't truly chiptunes. Here is one of the few bastions in the musical world where the digital vs. analog argument has no footholds, because it is a thing of such purity and clarity, and yes, because it is only digital. I'm not saying that analog has no business anywhere, and some people even combine the two (such as Anamanaguchi) but for some of us, the realm of the purely digital is a nice place to vacation every once in a while.
Chiptunes are music that has been created in the vain of classic video game music, often using hardware to create this effect, rather then software. They vary greatly from individual from individual; one of the best repositories I have found of chiptunes is the rather magnificent 8bitpeoples, and it is also a great example of how they vary. My first experience with the genre was while playing the rather graphically magnificent and conceptually stimulating game 'Darwinia', which takes place entirely inside a graphic representation of a computer network gone themepark; for the soundtrack, Introversion grabbed a few tunes from the rather magnificent electronic musician Tim Lamb, stage names trash80 and tresk. Now as one quickly discovers, his tunes are not usually hardcore chiptune, but rather an amalgamation of electronica and chiptunes, but they're easily a gateway to the harder stuff, such as the just as if not more magnificent Anamanaguchi (and now, seriously, if you haven't clicked on a single link yet, that one is the one that you should) and Bit Shifter (again, worth checking out).
I have had many debates with people about this genre of music; the classical musicians, especially, tend to argue that chiptunes lack expressiveness or feeling, to which I say you have obviously never heard True Fidelity by Twilight Electric; within it there is an expressiveness of a sort that I have never heard elsewhere. Chiptunes have a sort of purity about them; they harken back to a more innocent age when video games didn't have to have majestic scores behind them, sounding all too much like Pirates of the Caribbean (for those of you not in the know, I'm talking about the score to Oblivion- during the title screen I've literally had people wandering into the room going 'PIRATES! OOooo... oh... nevermind...') Instead, you had a simple 8-bit soundtrack coming through a tiny speaker, which still evoked emotions of joy, and when the inevitable speeding hi-hat combo came along to signify a boss, dread.
Chiptunes have a strange sort of power over a certain selection of us; they transcend analog, and are a thing of the purely digital realm, for they are nigh impossible to recreate with analog. Oh, you can play them on a guitar or a keyboard, but they then aren't truly chiptunes. Here is one of the few bastions in the musical world where the digital vs. analog argument has no footholds, because it is a thing of such purity and clarity, and yes, because it is only digital. I'm not saying that analog has no business anywhere, and some people even combine the two (such as Anamanaguchi) but for some of us, the realm of the purely digital is a nice place to vacation every once in a while.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Process Planning? - LyricsLyricsLyricsLyrics
After last weekend spent working/socializing with the better half of the band, we now have shape for the entirety of what is hoped to be the upcoming album. I say shape, because what we have is the basis for a lot of the songs. The musical basis. The lyrical basis exists for several of them, and is... 'in potentia', shall we say, for the rest. I've spent a certain amount of time talking to people and generally thinking about this lack of product on my part (I am the lyricist/writer of the pairing).
The other night I attended a concert/Q&A session with one of the songwriting/composition Prof's at McNally Smith College of Music, and was amused when he refused to share his songwriting 'method', citing it as rather private; that I completely understand; the process of writing a song can be extremely personal, and privacy is a nice thing to have, both in the moment and in the general sense. The piece he did feel capable of sharing was that it starts with doing everything possible to do other then write a song.
This got me thinking about my own drive for writing songs, and especially my specific area for the moment, lyrics. I have only, to my memory, managed to actually sit down and completely write a song in one sitting twice (not including revisions). Normally a song is a fairly pained affair for me, with lots of scribbling on pads of engineering paper (an affectation left over from my days as an engineering student), a great many cups of earl grey consumed, and lots of cursing of out of tune guitars, my personally poor piano skills, my lack of inspiration, my sudden lack of pencil lead, batteries for my tuner, and especially cursing of that greatest of drains of productivity: The Internet (with video games coming in a close second). Also involved tends to be lots of digging around in old notebooks from highschool, and in my 'random writings' folder in which lie many sheets of bad poetry and random metaphors and similes which occured to me in the middle of the night (or in the middle of a calculus class). I tend to write things, then start working on a song, and when I run out of inspiration I start flipping through the folder; the lyrics for at least one of the songs we're finishing up is pulled together almost entirely from about six different sets of poetry, random lyrics for songs that never happened, and in one case, a rather bad short story involving some random and rather tasteless linguistic play; (un?)fortunately, the linguistic play wasn't what made it into the song.
When I get really beaten down and can't find any inspiration, I flip on the playlist on my computer made up of all the stuff I've listened to over the years which has suddenly inspired me to write stuff; Leonard Cohen, Missy Higgins, David Bowie, and Mostly Autumn all turn up and I sit down and just write.
When even that fails, there's still one option left: Go to a concert.
Now, that seems rather contrary to many people; normally one goes to a concert to listen, not to write. But for some reason, certain concerts cause me to just become inspired. George Maurer, Storyhill, Cliff Eberhardt and Lucy Kaplansky just to name a few, have all been concerts which have made me suddenly dig around for scraps of paper and pencil. The most recent, a sadly rather less well attended concert by fledgling but already extraordinary singer-songwriter Allye Gaietto was single-handedly responsible for completing sets of lyrics on two songs (one of which, unfortunately, is not slated to go on the album, due to complete narrative discord). Still, these sudden spurts of productivity are incredibly useful. Now if I could only isolate a real cause for them, and somehow utilize that elsewhere.
In any case, progress is slooooooooooooow but steady. This whole writing music via e-mail thing is working, though. And sooner then I probably think, King Arthur and the Bearded Lady shall ride forth and shall (metaphorically) give birth to what shall likely not quite be a magnum opus, but should hopefully be an interesting and somewhat philosophical good time, if not for anyone else, then at least for us.
The other night I attended a concert/Q&A session with one of the songwriting/composition Prof's at McNally Smith College of Music, and was amused when he refused to share his songwriting 'method', citing it as rather private; that I completely understand; the process of writing a song can be extremely personal, and privacy is a nice thing to have, both in the moment and in the general sense. The piece he did feel capable of sharing was that it starts with doing everything possible to do other then write a song.
This got me thinking about my own drive for writing songs, and especially my specific area for the moment, lyrics. I have only, to my memory, managed to actually sit down and completely write a song in one sitting twice (not including revisions). Normally a song is a fairly pained affair for me, with lots of scribbling on pads of engineering paper (an affectation left over from my days as an engineering student), a great many cups of earl grey consumed, and lots of cursing of out of tune guitars, my personally poor piano skills, my lack of inspiration, my sudden lack of pencil lead, batteries for my tuner, and especially cursing of that greatest of drains of productivity: The Internet (with video games coming in a close second). Also involved tends to be lots of digging around in old notebooks from highschool, and in my 'random writings' folder in which lie many sheets of bad poetry and random metaphors and similes which occured to me in the middle of the night (or in the middle of a calculus class). I tend to write things, then start working on a song, and when I run out of inspiration I start flipping through the folder; the lyrics for at least one of the songs we're finishing up is pulled together almost entirely from about six different sets of poetry, random lyrics for songs that never happened, and in one case, a rather bad short story involving some random and rather tasteless linguistic play; (un?)fortunately, the linguistic play wasn't what made it into the song.
When I get really beaten down and can't find any inspiration, I flip on the playlist on my computer made up of all the stuff I've listened to over the years which has suddenly inspired me to write stuff; Leonard Cohen, Missy Higgins, David Bowie, and Mostly Autumn all turn up and I sit down and just write.
When even that fails, there's still one option left: Go to a concert.
Now, that seems rather contrary to many people; normally one goes to a concert to listen, not to write. But for some reason, certain concerts cause me to just become inspired. George Maurer, Storyhill, Cliff Eberhardt and Lucy Kaplansky just to name a few, have all been concerts which have made me suddenly dig around for scraps of paper and pencil. The most recent, a sadly rather less well attended concert by fledgling but already extraordinary singer-songwriter Allye Gaietto was single-handedly responsible for completing sets of lyrics on two songs (one of which, unfortunately, is not slated to go on the album, due to complete narrative discord). Still, these sudden spurts of productivity are incredibly useful. Now if I could only isolate a real cause for them, and somehow utilize that elsewhere.
In any case, progress is slooooooooooooow but steady. This whole writing music via e-mail thing is working, though. And sooner then I probably think, King Arthur and the Bearded Lady shall ride forth and shall (metaphorically) give birth to what shall likely not quite be a magnum opus, but should hopefully be an interesting and somewhat philosophical good time, if not for anyone else, then at least for us.
Labels:
King Arthur and the Bearded Lady,
Music,
Philosophy,
Writing
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
On A Completely Random Note - Due South
For those of you who ever wonder where songwriters get inspiration from, On A Completely Random Note talks about such things; books, TV series, random encounters.
I have often told many people I know my opinions of most American television of the last few decades; especially this trend towards reality TV. So I have tended towards television series of the nineties, and British series especially. And when my father introduced me to the somewhat specially cultural Canadian miniseries Slings & Arrows, I discovered a particularly fine example of the genre. During research of one of the writers and lead actors of the series, I discovered an earlier series he had done, which is an exceptional (if little known in the US) series called Due South. It chronicles the adventures of one Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP (that's Royal Canadian Mounted Police) as he first hunts down the killer(s) of his father, and due to a rather extraordinary series of circumstances, he ends up posted in what is, to him, a strange new wilderness: Chicago. (Well, attached to the embassy in Chicago as a 'deputy liason officer'. Exactly what this position does is actually explained, although he never seems to do much in the embassy itself.)
Fraser appears, at the outset, to be a complete bumpkin. He is an expert tracker, outdoorsman, sharpshooter, dogsledder, and indeed, policeman, as is shown in an opening sequence of the pilot where he tracks down a man through a massive blizzard for exceeding the fishing limit. However, he does not appear to be equipped for the big city; indeed, when he requests to transfer to Chicago, his commanding officer points out that the largest city he had ever been posted in was Moose Jaw (population 35,000) and he was transferred out because 'he couldn't adapt to such an urban lifestyle'. Indeed, everything about Fraser points towards him being in severe trouble, from his tendency to give people money because they ask him, and his choice of pet- his companion is a wolf who goes by the name of Diefenbaker. He sharply avoids anything approaching morally questionable; this trait is put to a severe test when he is partnered up with a wisecracking Chicago PD Detective, Ray Vecchio. However, Fraser's amiable approach to everyone proves to be one of his greatest strengths, much to the surprise of Vecchio (and everyone else).
Fraser trusts everyone, and believes that deep down, everyone truly wants to do the right thing; this does nearly kill him every once in a while, although luckily Vecchio is almost always there to pull him out of it. Throughout the series, Fraser makes decisions which most of us, with our somewhat cynical views of human nature, would never make, and it makes him a rather singular protagonist. He also has to deal with the fact that he is posted in Chicago, and thusly outside of the consulate he has no official authority whatsoever; as he never bothers getting a permit for a firearm in Chicago, he thusly never carries a gun (he is an expert pugilist, however).
This is where my personal love of the series kicks in; Fraser is portrayed as a model policeman, a model citizen, and a generally good person. However, through his reading of his father's journals, we get to see his dilemmas; he is all too well aware that he is a stranger in a strange land, and while he believes he can bring some good to this land, he knows that it can all too easily do great harm to him.
The series is incredible, and I highly recommend it as both incredibly hilarious and extremely poignant; also, the music is great, both the outside tracks and the fantastic original score work. Paul Gross does an outstanding job, and although there are a few personnel changes in between seasons 2 & 3, the series manages to hold a lasting appeal.
I have often told many people I know my opinions of most American television of the last few decades; especially this trend towards reality TV. So I have tended towards television series of the nineties, and British series especially. And when my father introduced me to the somewhat specially cultural Canadian miniseries Slings & Arrows, I discovered a particularly fine example of the genre. During research of one of the writers and lead actors of the series, I discovered an earlier series he had done, which is an exceptional (if little known in the US) series called Due South. It chronicles the adventures of one Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP (that's Royal Canadian Mounted Police) as he first hunts down the killer(s) of his father, and due to a rather extraordinary series of circumstances, he ends up posted in what is, to him, a strange new wilderness: Chicago. (Well, attached to the embassy in Chicago as a 'deputy liason officer'. Exactly what this position does is actually explained, although he never seems to do much in the embassy itself.)
Fraser appears, at the outset, to be a complete bumpkin. He is an expert tracker, outdoorsman, sharpshooter, dogsledder, and indeed, policeman, as is shown in an opening sequence of the pilot where he tracks down a man through a massive blizzard for exceeding the fishing limit. However, he does not appear to be equipped for the big city; indeed, when he requests to transfer to Chicago, his commanding officer points out that the largest city he had ever been posted in was Moose Jaw (population 35,000) and he was transferred out because 'he couldn't adapt to such an urban lifestyle'. Indeed, everything about Fraser points towards him being in severe trouble, from his tendency to give people money because they ask him, and his choice of pet- his companion is a wolf who goes by the name of Diefenbaker. He sharply avoids anything approaching morally questionable; this trait is put to a severe test when he is partnered up with a wisecracking Chicago PD Detective, Ray Vecchio. However, Fraser's amiable approach to everyone proves to be one of his greatest strengths, much to the surprise of Vecchio (and everyone else).
Fraser trusts everyone, and believes that deep down, everyone truly wants to do the right thing; this does nearly kill him every once in a while, although luckily Vecchio is almost always there to pull him out of it. Throughout the series, Fraser makes decisions which most of us, with our somewhat cynical views of human nature, would never make, and it makes him a rather singular protagonist. He also has to deal with the fact that he is posted in Chicago, and thusly outside of the consulate he has no official authority whatsoever; as he never bothers getting a permit for a firearm in Chicago, he thusly never carries a gun (he is an expert pugilist, however).
This is where my personal love of the series kicks in; Fraser is portrayed as a model policeman, a model citizen, and a generally good person. However, through his reading of his father's journals, we get to see his dilemmas; he is all too well aware that he is a stranger in a strange land, and while he believes he can bring some good to this land, he knows that it can all too easily do great harm to him.
The series is incredible, and I highly recommend it as both incredibly hilarious and extremely poignant; also, the music is great, both the outside tracks and the fantastic original score work. Paul Gross does an outstanding job, and although there are a few personnel changes in between seasons 2 & 3, the series manages to hold a lasting appeal.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
One From The Deposit Box - One of metal's shining moments: The Battle
Random internet trawling turns up interesting music, and here's a great example; The Battle is a collaboration released in 2005 under the name Allen/Lande, for the two vocalists who perform on the album, Jørn Lande of Masterplan and Russell Allen of Symphony X, although the mastermind behind the project is Magnus Karlsson, lead guitarist for heavy metal band Starbreaker. Karlsson produced and composed the album, as well as performing the guitars, bass, and keyboards for it.
Now, I make no small claim when I say that this is one of the finest examples of the metal genre; the album is well constructed, exceptionally well composed and performed, and has something I consider miraculous, which is that it suffers from no lulls- every track is as engaging and powerful as the previous one, up to and including the album's ballad, which is a great example of the metal ballad.
We open with atmospheric synths and piano building slowly into a crescendo, then crashing into life the virtuoso playing of Mr. Karlsson suddenly completely changes the landscape. The technique is heavy enough to sate those who love their metal hard, but lacks the overly clean feel of Steve Vai; it's a gritty technique that works wonderfully to give this whole album a uniform feel without every song being identical in sound.
I won't go through each and every track of the album and sing it's praises, because one, this would take far too long, and we'd all be spending far more time on this blog then would be healthy. There is a certain sameness to the tone of the tracks, which is my only complaint about the album; but as stated, each track has its' own musical flair to it which makes it unique. But I'll quickly hit on the high points of the album (which they are likely more of then I think, so this last paragraph may rapidly evaporate into pointlessness.
The opening track 'Another Battle' is a great example of where this album truly shines; the composition is seamless, flowing from atmospheric intro to verse to chorus with grand shifts of feel. The verses tend towards the softer side so that the lyrics can be clearly heard- a good thing too, as they are exceptionally written, and after all, one of the major purposes of the album is to show off the vocalists.
The album's ballad, 'Reach a Little Longer', is one of the finer points of the album; most metal songwriters completely bypass the ballad, as down tempo ballads aren't often in demand in the genre, and usually don't suit it. And while this isn't likely to be an eternal classic in the genre of power-ballads, it is still a shining beacon in the metal genre for managing to maintain both the metal instrumentation and feel, and the slow feel and power of a good ballad. It is also likely the most powerful song on the album, lyrically speaking.
As the album goes on, it reaches its' zenith, and 'Where Have the Angels Gone' is my personal favorite off of the album, for a variety of reasons. The lyrics are a fine example of how repetition isn't always bad; the song has a grand total of three (fairly short) sections of lyrics, the chorus being repeated a fair number of times during the songs nearly five minute length, but they never get old. The chorus has an almost catchy quality- it's one of the few metal songs I've found myself randomly humming or even singing the chorus from.
The Battle is a fine collaboration from some of the greatest talents in the modern metal world; it more then shows Magnus Karlsson's ability for both instrumentation and songwriting, and Allen and Lande both sparkle. I will also mention the fourth musician on this album, whose performance is likely the least appreciated and one of the finest, percussionist Jaime Salazar. Salazar's work truly makes the album, helping give much of the piece its' driving force. For those who want to work their way from heavy metal into progressive metal, this is a fine stepping stone, and for those of us who prefer the progressive scene, this is a slightly heavier gem that adds a little breadth the our collections.
Now, I make no small claim when I say that this is one of the finest examples of the metal genre; the album is well constructed, exceptionally well composed and performed, and has something I consider miraculous, which is that it suffers from no lulls- every track is as engaging and powerful as the previous one, up to and including the album's ballad, which is a great example of the metal ballad.
We open with atmospheric synths and piano building slowly into a crescendo, then crashing into life the virtuoso playing of Mr. Karlsson suddenly completely changes the landscape. The technique is heavy enough to sate those who love their metal hard, but lacks the overly clean feel of Steve Vai; it's a gritty technique that works wonderfully to give this whole album a uniform feel without every song being identical in sound.
I won't go through each and every track of the album and sing it's praises, because one, this would take far too long, and we'd all be spending far more time on this blog then would be healthy. There is a certain sameness to the tone of the tracks, which is my only complaint about the album; but as stated, each track has its' own musical flair to it which makes it unique. But I'll quickly hit on the high points of the album (which they are likely more of then I think, so this last paragraph may rapidly evaporate into pointlessness.
The opening track 'Another Battle' is a great example of where this album truly shines; the composition is seamless, flowing from atmospheric intro to verse to chorus with grand shifts of feel. The verses tend towards the softer side so that the lyrics can be clearly heard- a good thing too, as they are exceptionally written, and after all, one of the major purposes of the album is to show off the vocalists.
The album's ballad, 'Reach a Little Longer', is one of the finer points of the album; most metal songwriters completely bypass the ballad, as down tempo ballads aren't often in demand in the genre, and usually don't suit it. And while this isn't likely to be an eternal classic in the genre of power-ballads, it is still a shining beacon in the metal genre for managing to maintain both the metal instrumentation and feel, and the slow feel and power of a good ballad. It is also likely the most powerful song on the album, lyrically speaking.
As the album goes on, it reaches its' zenith, and 'Where Have the Angels Gone' is my personal favorite off of the album, for a variety of reasons. The lyrics are a fine example of how repetition isn't always bad; the song has a grand total of three (fairly short) sections of lyrics, the chorus being repeated a fair number of times during the songs nearly five minute length, but they never get old. The chorus has an almost catchy quality- it's one of the few metal songs I've found myself randomly humming or even singing the chorus from.
The Battle is a fine collaboration from some of the greatest talents in the modern metal world; it more then shows Magnus Karlsson's ability for both instrumentation and songwriting, and Allen and Lande both sparkle. I will also mention the fourth musician on this album, whose performance is likely the least appreciated and one of the finest, percussionist Jaime Salazar. Salazar's work truly makes the album, helping give much of the piece its' driving force. For those who want to work their way from heavy metal into progressive metal, this is a fine stepping stone, and for those of us who prefer the progressive scene, this is a slightly heavier gem that adds a little breadth the our collections.
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