Week 94: Improvisation #1

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Week 93: Listen

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Week 92: Yo-yos

I can sit and watch a good typist type on a manual typewriter and get a soothing physical sensation, not unlike the one I get from watching a good pianist or a good guitarist. I can say the same from a good knitter or any number of activities that involve a precise and rhythmic use of the fingers. I get a feeling that is not just a mental appreciation of a skill, but it’s an actual physical sensation of well-being, almost like a good massage or a soft tickle. It makes me smile from the inside.

When I sleep I tap my fingers. My wife has told me so, as have previous girlfriends for as long as I remember. I’ve never figured out why or how, but I believe I do it during some of the lighter cycles of sleep as some sort of calming device. I also do it when I’m awake almost all the time, also I believe as a calming device. It gets the music going inside my head. And it feels good, my fingers tapping on a table or my leg, or a keyboard. When I type at my best, I do it to a certain rhythm of a certain music going on in my head. And it feels good.

From these it's only a quick jump to the pleasure I get from playing or watching someone play piano or guitar. But if someone had asked me, what about yo-yoing? I would’ve most likely said, no way. What does yo-yoing have to do with any of this? That is until last night when I watched the World Yo-Yo Championships on some TV station.

The experience was as if someone who had seen a skateboarding competition in 1971 and hadn’t seen anyone ride a skateboard since then until they turn the TV and see Tony Hawk on some X games doing a 900 several feet above the rim of a half pipe. Last time I saw anyone compete in any kind of yo-yo contest going around the world or doing a trapeze got applause. So watching how they've developed these tricks in some 30+ years was quite eye-opening. Yo-yoists (yo-yoers?) apparently have been as hard at work as skateboarders, bmxers, etc, developing tricks and techniques that simply put just blew my mind.

Here’s the current champion, Yuuki Spencer doing his winning routine at last year’s world contest.


The whole time I was watching him I was giddy with laughter and cheering like a little kid at his first rock concert. I had that same feeling I get when watching a good pianist or a good typist.

All the contestants were pretty mind blowing to me, even the ones that the commentators claimed were making tons of mistakes or not doing difficult enough tricks, or out of rhythm or any of a number of criticisms. However, Yuuki's routine was obviously a notch above the rest. Still, I am a sucker for flash, so my favorite was not Yuuki, but Hiroyuki Suzuki, the kid with the moosed up hair, the glittering tennis shoes, and the white gloves. Because ultimately I’m a disco kid at heart and this new yo-yoing seemed like just the best disco dancing I've seen in a good while, and they do most of the dancing with their fingers!

Hiroyuki Suzuki came in second place. Here’s his routine.


Both of the kids above were in the 1A competition which means they use one yo-yo with a string attached to it and the other end of the string looped around a finger on one hand. Looking into other categories I found out that there is a two yo-yo category, a category where the yo-yo is not tied to the string (so its almost more like a top), a category where the string is not looped around your finger, and other categories where you use one yo-yo and two strings or two yo-yos and three strings. It’s insane I tell you.

Apparently there are big yo-yo scenes in Japan (of course), Brazil, the Bay Area and Florida. Go figure. The technology has also developed quite a bit, yo-yos now come with ball bearing axles, are made of shaped aluminum and can cost of up to $200. Here’s the Samurai by SuperYo for only $159.99 (a $40.00 discount).

There's even a Yo-Yo Wiki page where you can find info on contests, yo-yoists, tricks, equipment and anything you may want to know about yo-yos. Aren’t you just dying to learn everything there it to learn about it?

Me, I feel like a kid who just saw Pete Townsend doing windmills on his guitar and now wants an electric guitar, too. So I’ve asked for a yo-yo for my upcoming birthday, and who knows maybe I’ll drop the guitar for the disco dancing music of yo-yoing.

Week 91: Memorials 9 - 12

There’s the Blue Öyster Cult symbol, a combination of a cross and a question mark, painted large behind the twin bed were a crucifix once hung. There’s the collection of military miniatures, painstakingly painted and placed in perfect military formation, an impending battle. There’s the killer record collection neatly stacked on the shelves, the Ramones, Queen, the Stooges, MC5… The three kids in the older brother’s bedroom aren’t trying to find the secret answer to sex, they aren’t paying attention to any of that. They are sitting on the edge of the bed, barely on it, almost more standing than sitting, staring at the older brother’s little twelve inch TV on top of the desk. An Ozzy Osbourne concert is playing live on MTV just months after the death of guitarist Randy Rhodes. Ozzy is the Prince of Darkness himself and to these three Catholic kids he rocks. The set is a medieval castle, the band is flawless, and Ozzy’s voice is piercing perfect, Don't need no astrology, it's inside of you and me. You don't need a ticket to fly with me, I'm free, yeah. And a giant cross made of laser lights spins above Ozzy’s head until it turns itself upside down. The three teenagers stare in awe and they feel they’ve had a life changing experience. But they are just starting their lives.

The weekend in the mountains was not turning out like he’d planned. He had been wanting to talk to her since the last time he visited, and had decided this time he would do it. He had thought of every possible way a conversation between them could go, all the possible responses she could have to all the possible things he could say and all the possible responses he could have to all her possible responses. He had spent a lot of time thinking about this, yet he didn’t’ feel ready. So when they ran into each other on the sidewalk in front of their neighboring mountain homes, his tongue was glued to the back of his teeth and she ended up being the one that invited him to her house. Lucky for him they had a piano. He knew he was clumsy and awkward, but playing the piano he felt like he had something to offer, even if it was just a clumsy and awkward version of the Theme for Mahogany. And she knew the song! Do you know where you’re going to? Do you like the things that life is showing you? He wanted to kiss her and hug her and tell her he had always and forever would love her. But he didn’t, and he would never see her again, because by the time he was old enough to be brave, she was falling asleep on her boyfriend’s lap in the back seat of car speeding through the narrow mountain roads of the distant Sierra Madre range in Mexico.

Younger in age than the life she’s led, she sits in the little median-of-a-park outside Kellogg’s 24-hour diner in Brooklyn. She came on the L train from Bushwick to meet her guy and now just sits on a bench stretching her long sleeve t-shirt over her hands in a failed attempt to keep warm. Her guy is going to be late and she’s sick, so she’s scanning the bums standing around the door of the diner cause maybe, just maybe Frank will be there, and he owes her some. But Frank’s not there, Frank is shitting his soft bum diarrhea right into his pants in the crowded holding cell of the Union Street Police Station. As if she knew about the mass vomiting reaction Frank is causing at the station, she smiles to herself, and then notices her guy taking his time, riding towards her on a bicycle that looks like it belongs to his little brother. She asks him, have you listened to Vico-C’s new record? Then takes off her headphones and puts them over her guy’s ears as Vico-C raps, aquel que habia muerto de la tumba salio, y ahora contrataca con lo que aprendio (the one who had died is back from the grave, and now counter attacks with the stuff he learned). Her guy compliments the dope beat of the music and gives her what she came to get. She says, see you later, and heads for the Kellogg’s bathroom for the last time, feeling good about life, and singing along with Vico-C, Dale paso al rey de reyes cuando llegue a tu ‘section’, Repartiendo las buenas nuevas de ‘salvation’, A lo unico de lo que queda de la ‘generation’ (Make way for the king of king when he reaches your section, spreading the good news of salvation, to what’s left of the generation).

The Captain and Tennille were blasting on the living room stereo of my friend’s family beach house. I was on the brink of puberty, and staring at the Lynda Carter poster my best friend had on his bedroom wall. Not Lynda Carter in the Wonder Woman costume, this Lynda Carter was wearing a shirt tied into a knot in the front with her thumb hooked on the waist of her jeans weighting the jeans down so that her belly button showed, a really nice belly button. She stared right at me and I stared back at her and ignored the insistent whispers of my friend calling me to look out the window. Uncle Johnny and his new girlfriend are doing it on the hammock outside, he said. But I never went to the window, so I don’t know if they were really doing it or if it was just another one of my friend’s deluded exaggerations. They say your life flashes by you when you are dying, so I guess that was the extent of my life cause that is the only scene flashing by me right now. I know I’m only nineteen, but I’m sure I have more memories than just this one. My friend, meanwhile, is frantic and talking something unintelligible while he drives. He’s sweating and freaking out, yet I don’t feel at all like I was just shot in the head. I am comfortable, leaning back on the car seat and thinking about that poster and Toni Tennille’s voice, Before you ask some guy for his hand, now, You keep your freedom for as long as you can, now, My mama told me, You better shop around, aah-ha-ha, You better shop around.

Week 90: Voices to Hear

I was really trying to post something else, but in the end I’ve run out of time and all the other posts I started today would not find their way to an end. What I was able to finish are these interview questions that John from the Voices to Hear blog sent me.

He has an interesting take on the music blog and I recommend you all take a look. I hope I'm not breaking some Mrs. Manners rule of blogging by posting them here also. Because lacking anything else to post and knowing you are all dying to hear my opinion, that's exactly what I'm doing. Here's the six interview questions from Voices to Hear and my answers:

1. For many artists, they cite a defining moment for themselves when they knew they wanted to be a singer. For many it was the appearance of Elvis on the Ed Sullivan show, to another generation it was the Beatles’ appearance on Sullivan half a decade later. Is there such a defining moment for you?

The question of being or not being a singer or a guitar player or a songwriter never really occurred to me. My uncle played music and when I was a little kid, he handed me down one of his guitars; I learned a song on one string and have been playing ever since. Already when I played that first song, I felt like some kind of guitar player and all I’ve ever needed to feel like a guitar player is a guitar in my hands. Certainly there have been times when I’ve wished I was as good of a songwriter as Nick Cave, or as good of a guitar player as Gabriela Quintero, or as rich and high as Keith Richards, but those moments pass and in the end I am the guitar player that I am and the rest is just dust in the eyes.

2. When you’re not creating music what are you listening to? Who are some of your favorites?

I listen mostly to Spanish, Latin and Brazilian music - rock en Español, classic salsa, flamenco, bossa nova, nueva trova, samba... I did go see Tom Waits on this last tour after being a fan for many many years. It was awesome and an incredible inspiration, and the concert will go right up there with the best concert experiences I’ve had, and probably the only one in a larger venue. He really made that 2400 seat auditorium seem like a little bar.

I also listen to some countryish/folkish american music, stuff like the Avett Brothers and the everybodyfields. And there is of course all the local live music I see in our little towns of Carrboro/Chapel Hill, most of which is mindbendingly good, people like Dexter Romweber, the Squirrel Nut Zippers (who just played a show last night at a small club in town), Southern Culture on the Skids, the Moaners, the Dirty Little Heaters, Twilighter, John Howie Jr, The Spider Bags, Pinche Gringo, and many many more. I am lucky to live in a very musical region.

3. What would you say is your greatest moment so far as an artist, either on record or live?

This is I hard question, I don't really know the answer, my guess though would be, any time we play a great show? I forget the details of the best shows and I forget what made those great shows so great. It's more than just the musicians all playing perfectly, more than having an involved and appreciative audience. There is something that happens sometimes when everything is right and then there is that something extra that takes it over the top. When it's happening I can almost tell what it is, but as soon as it's over, then I don't know anymore. If you told me it had to do with the moon or the stars, I wouldn't be able to say that it didn't cause I don't really know, it is indeed a little magical.

4. Do you believe music can change the world or is just something to listen to? How much can music influence current events?

Music can and has changed the world, but writing music to try to change the world doesn’t seem to work often and it doesn’t feel right. Trying to make music to change the world seems like parents who try to force their kids to go into a particular career. Music will do what it will, I just write it and play it.

5. How has technology affected the music industry? How has technology affected your career as a musician?

It bores me to talk about technology. Yes it's there, yes I use it. Yes technology continues to improve the ease with which we record and play and listen to music. But ultimately music is still created in some fairly basic ways, blowing, striking, plucking, and now with sound generators.

6. Now for my Barbara Walters question: If you were a pair of shoes what type of shoes would you be?

The beat up, worn out shoes of someone who’s walked around the world.

Week 87: Spanish Guitars 1: Strings

This is going to be an informational series about Spanish guitars. This particular post is going to be specifically about Spanish guitar strings. If you don’t have a Spanish guitar, you can easily find them at thrift shops for $50 or less (I've seen decent ones for as low as $10) or you can buy one at your local music store for not much more than that. Many people already own Spanish guitars for home use or for when they go camping. I use mine to record and perform live and I love the sound of it and have not played an electric guitar in almost 10 years nor have any interest in playing one ever again (though that, like everything, may change). I love the sound of the two Spanish guitars I own, it is warm, round, full and percussive, running them through the right amplifiers (I stick these days to pedal steel guitar amps: Sho-Buds, Peavy Nashville) can at times make their sound have the fullness and percussiveness of a piano.

Once in a while a friend finds a Spanish guitar in a garage sale, thrift shop or grandma's attic, they bring it to me so I can tell them if I think it's any good. After checking that the basics are working, that the neck is not bent out of shape, or the bridge about to fly off the body, the one thing I always tell them is that it's all about the strings. In my 20+ years of playing Spanish guitars, the main thing I’ve learned is that the single most important thing you can do to improve the sound of a Spanish guitar is to put a good set of strings on it.

Spanish guitars come in a wide range of prices. You can, for example, buy this Geza Burghardt guitar for a bit over $25,000. Indeed it is a beautifully constructed guitar. The tuning machines on these high end guitars, for example, can cost over $1000 for a set and are works of art in their own right.

But as beautiful as these high end guitars are to look at, unless you are a collector, a professional classical performer, or super rich, you probably don't want to spend that much money to get a great sounding guitar. In my experience, you don't need to, all you need to do is invest on a guitar that works, and put some top of the line strings on it. Good strings will go a long way towards making your $50 thrift shop guitar sound like a $25,000 guitar.

Most guitar shops, even some that focus on acoustic instruments, only carry a few brands of Spanish guitar strings, often the brands that also have lines of steel strings – Martin, LaBella, D’Addario. Stay away from these. Most shops also carry Augustine strings. These are like the Burger King of guitar strings, available everywhere and fairly tasteless. To get the good strings you pretty much need to go online.

Italians, Germans and Spanish string manufacturers are constantly working on inventing better guitar strings for the Spanish guitar. I go to Strings by Mail and I have no complaints. They are constantly bringing in new models and generally have anything you may want in Spanish guitar strings at an affordable price and with great service.

For over five years, I have been trying out as many different kinds of Spanish guitar strings as I can. I keep a spreadsheet with information about each set of strings I try, what they are, when I put them on, when I took them off, if any of them broke, how they felt when I first put them on, how they felt a few days later, why did I change them, how they felt before I changed them…

I try each set several times and slowly eliminate sets that don’t work for me. Currently I’ve narrowed down the principal sets I use to a few brands, and am now in the process of combining the basses (low 3 strings) and trebles (high 3 strings) from different sets to see how these work together.

It sounds very anal and time consuming, but with Spanish guitar strings you can’t be too careful. Spanish guitar strings take some time to settle and generally are not at their prime until several days after you put them on. So I’ll change strings, play them for about a month (more or less, depending on gig and recording schedules) and change them to a different set (again, depending on gig and recording schedules, sometimes there’s no time for experimenting).

The life of a Spanish guitar string is a slow arch that can last up to a month or longer. They can take up to a week to settle (or grow up) into their prime playing condition. Then they might remain in good bright condition for many days afterwards, even up to a month or more depending on how much they are played and other conditions such as temperatures and weather conditions, at which point they’ll generally start a slow decay until finally they die. And by dead I don't mean they break, since Spanish guitar strings usually die before they break. When they are dead, they sound dead. You don't want to wait that long to change them.

What this means is that if you are playing regularly it’s good to know how your strings behave, and it’s good to have strings that behave consistently. For example, you would be in for a tough night if you changed strings a few hours before a show, even a day before a show could be risky without some extra considerations, but if you had to do it, you would want to know which strings settled the quickest, and which had the best initial response. On the other hand, if you have to record in a week you might want to know how much life is left to your strings, if you change them, will the new set be ready by the time you have to go record? Or do the ones you have on now still have enough life to make it through? So overall these strings require some attention.

Because of this slow life arch of Spanish guitar strings, I will not change just one string from a set because it throws off the rhythm of the whole set. Once a string breaks or dies, off comes at the very least the group to which it belongs (basses or trebles).

Spanish guitar strings can be split into three main categories: gut, nylon and polymers. Unless you are looking for something very specific, stay way from the gut strings. They are more expensive, less consistent, and require greater maintenance. The kind of research I've done is fairly meaningless with gut strings, every set is different. You probably also want to stay away from nylon strings. These are what you’ll find in most guitar shops, usually the low end nylon strings. There are decent nylon strings out there, but for a few dollars more you can get any of a number of polymer strings, and I think you'll be much happier.

There are a lot of polymer strings, so I’ll cut to the chase and just tell you which strings I found to be the best, though remember that guitar strings makers are constantly coming up with new technologies for new and better strings, so what’s best today, might not be best tomorrow.

I judged the strings mainly on the quality of their sound, but also on the consistency of their sound, the behavior of the strings (how fast they settle and how soon it fades), and durability (some strings are more breakable than others). All of the sets I mention can be purchased for under $25.00 a set.

In my opinion, the best string, bar none, out there right now is the Alchemia model by Italian manufacturers Aquila. The Alchemia strings are made with Nylgut, which is a synthetic gut creation of the Aquila group. The strings have a beautiful warm sound, superior stability and overall have the richness of gut without the problems. I can’t recommend these strings enough. They settle quickly, have a long life and have the fullest sound I’ve found. On top of that the basses and trebles have a great balance. I have not found anything wrong with these strings yet. If you can have only one set of strings, this is the set to have.

Another excellent set of strings is the Genius Titanio model by Galli, another Italian company. The Titanio strings are a Titanium/Nylon polymer and were my favorite choice until I found the Alchemia set. They have a beautiful sound and the basses are stronger sounding than the Alchemia basses. Currently I’ve been trying them in combination, but have not made a decision yet. Galli has also just come out with a Genius Carbonio model, made with a carbon polymer. I’ve liked carbon polymer strings in the past and coming from Galli, I’m looking forward to trying these out. If I want smoother, rounder sounding strings, I go with the Galli. But for overall, playability and sound the Alchemia sets are still in a category all of their own.

Another great manufacturer is Hannabach, a German company that has been making strings since the 19th century. Hannabach’s new Titanyl could give the Galli Titanio strings a run for their money, but the real highlight of the Hannabach line for me is their “Durable D” single string. For some reason the D string is the one string that actually breaks fairly often in Spanish guitars, and Hannabach has created this string that settles almost as fast as a steel string, sounds great and you can buy it in singles. I always keep a few of these in my gig bag and when I break a string, I always hope it’s the D string, cuase with the Durable D the interruption to the flow of the show will be minimal.

A lot of the Spanish manufacturers (Ramirez, Savarez, Royal, Conde Hermanos) seem to fall short with the medium tension strings that I prefer (I have not found any reason to ever use high tension strings), but they make the better low tension sets that are ideal for Flamenco playing. If I was only playing Flamenco I would go with some of these sets, but my hybrid style requires a stronger string. But I’ll talk about the difference between the Flamenco and Classical guitars and their strings another week.

Week 86: 25 Questions

Towards a Cosmic Music is a collection of texts by Karlheinz Stockhausen. It includes interviews, conversations, discussions, essays, articles, excerpts, a survey, a litany, a manifesto, and a questionnaire.

The questionnaire is part of an Appendix. Appendix #4. There are 5 appendices.

1. Chronology of Life and Works
2. Five Revolutions Since 1950
3. Comes Awakening, Comes Time…
4. To the International Music Council
5. Mantra

Number 4, To the International Music Council, is a questionnaire.

The introduction to the questionnaire reads as follows:

“To the International Music Council:

Your ‘Questionnaire No. 2’ asks questions which suggest that wise answers may lead to a better world. I have answered them after experiencing the Third Reich, the restoration of the international music scene since 1945, and a critical period of political and economic vulgarization of all music, knowing that I cannot change the situation. But at least my voice may be remembered as one which refused to agree or collaborate with the leaders in power. I am particularly disgusted by the world’s most famous interpreters who are not serving musical progress – which means performing music born during their lifetimes – but who serve their own fame and wealth.

Please excuse my limited English.”

And it’s signed, K. Stockhausen, 21 November 1984

The International Music Council (IMC) is a branch of UNESCO dedicated exclusively to music.

I did not know about the IMC until I read this book some years ago, nor that they had implemented International Music Day on October 1 of every year. I’d like to know more about them but somehow they are always below my easy-chair’s radar. Maybe if I lived in another country?

Their questionnaire, however, is worth revisiting every once in a while. We could probably spend the rest of the days left to this blog answering some of these questions. I have deleted Stockhausen’s answers, because the questions deserve attention by themselves.

25 QUESTIONS

1. Who is the respondent? Please give full name of the respondent, organization, or group.
2. Is the current status of music, in general, satisfactory? Has it changed in the last decade? What facts support your opinion?
3. What should the status of music be, in general? How can this view be substantiated?
4. What is the current status of music in comparison with the other arts, in general? What are the causes of this status?
5. What types of music do you participate in as composer, performer or audience on a regular basis?
6. What is the dignity currently assigned to the particular types of music? What arguments can be given?
7. What types of music dominate the current ‘soundscape’?
8. What would be the optimal hierarchy of the types of music? Is there an optimal hierarchy? How can such a hierarchy be justified?
9. Should the proposed optimal hierarchy of the types of music correspond to the relative proportions of society’s perception? How can this be justified and achieved?
10. What forms of practice (amateur, professional, private, concert, stage, etc) do you engage in when involved in musical activities? What forms of reception do you use (live, cassettes, records, video, radio, tv, etc)?
11. What is the current status assigned to different forms of music practice and different forms of reception? And does this status correspond to the quantitative representation of these forms in society?
12. What, in particular, is the role of live music in the status of music? Why?
13. What, in particular, is the role of the different means of mass communication for the status of music? Why?
14. What is the role of education in the shaping of the state of music? Why?
15. Is this status of music in your city a product of internal factors or are outside factors involved also? What are these factors, e.g. social, ideological, political, organizational, economic, fashion, artistic? Examples please.
16. Which individuals or social groups (classes, layers, professional groups, e.g. music, bureaucratic, social organizations, youth, etc.) currently play an important role in opinion formation as regards the status of music?
17. Which individuals and social groups should play a significant role in opinion formation and determining the status of music?
18. What currently contributes to raising the prestige of music in society?
19. What currently contributes to lowering the prestige or music in society?
20. What can be done to raise the prestige of music?
21. What is the highest position in the hierarchy of the State administration that deals exclusively with music?
22. Can the current attitude of the State and social organization administrations be seen in the level of subsidies given to music?
23. Have any legal acts been passed recently that affect the status of music? Please discuss them.
24. What can be done to raise the prestige of music? What role, in particular, can the International Member Organizations and National Music Committees and the IMC play?
25. Are there any other questions that deserve attention in connection with the status of music?

Stockhausen’s answers can be found here.

Week 85: The Ballad of Stayed and Gone 10

Baby Camilia


the end of the first act. the cliff hanger. the curtain before intermission. the impulse to change. the reason to try something different. the suggestion of a new beginning. the swing of the pendulum.

Week 84: Erased Post

I wrote it and erased it, with a thick pink eraser. But I could still see the markings on the page so I crumpled the page and tossed it in the garbage can under the sink. Then I went to the porch to smoke a cigarette and think about something new to write. But all I could think about was that crumpled piece of paper sitting in the trash can surrounded by coffee grounds, and old beer cans. By the time I had finished the cigarette I had made my decision. I went back inside and dug the piece of paper out of the trashcan and went back to the porch and lit it on fire while holding on to one corner of it. A kid playing with a skateboard on the street looked over at me burning my erased piece of paper. That kid knows nothing about erasing and burning. I held on to the piece of paper until the fire burnt my fingers and I had to let it go. I laid the blackened remains of the erased paper on the ashtray and made sure everything had been turned to ashes. Then I lit the tiny little Achilles heel of the erased paper and watched that also turn to ashes.

By then I was feeling somewhat ritualistic about the whole thing so I lifted the ashtray over my head in a dramatic pose, and waited for the kid on the street to look over. Once he saw the weird man holding the ashtray with both hands above his head, I brought the full ashtray down and emptied it into my mouth. It was gross. The kid thought it was gross. I then took a deep breath and swallowed the ashes, sat back down and lit another cigarette and tried to think of something new to write about.

But again all I could think about was those ashes in my belly. I thought maybe I should try to re-write the words I had erased, but I couldn’t remember what I had written. Not even the general idea of it. Weird. I’d only written it a few minutes before. Oh well, must not have been that good. My stomach didn’t feel good either, like I had burning embers in my belly. Maybe eating the ashes was not such a funny thing to do. I finished my cigarette and went to get something to drink, maybe that would settle my stomach. I opened the fridge, but all I had to drink besides tap water were barium sulfate suspension smoothies. That’s what you drink before you get a CT scan. They call it a contrast because it creates the contrast that allows the x-ray machine to record your internal organs properly. That’s what they told me at the radiology clinic. Drink 40 ounces of water the night before, don’t eat anything after midnight and then in the morning, drink one smoothie at 7, another one at 8:30 and another one at 9:15. The idea is to fill every part of your digestive system, so you become a huge balloon full of disgusting barium sulfate, water, and in my case ashes.

My stomach was still upset though, so I drank a glass of water. The warm tap water, however didn’t help. In my mind the ashes were revolting and trying to get out of my stomach. They had somehow lit themselves back on fire and were burning their way out. So I figured I’d make myself throw up. But my stomach was empty, and no matter how far I stuck my finger down my throat, I couldn’t make myself vomit. I hadn’t had anything to eat all day, not because of the doctor’s instructions, but because the fridge was empty and I’d spent my money on cigarettes. Fuck it, I thought, I’ll drink one of those smoothies, I’m sure they are disgusting enough. I chugged it, and it was disgusting. I almost couldn’t hold the stuff in long enough to make it to the porch. I vomited on the gray cement floor of the porch. Then I sat back on the chair, feeling a little light headed and lit a cigarette. I did feel much better with the ashes out of me. But now they were all over my porch floor mixed with barium sulfate and other assorted stomach fluids. And as I puffed on my cigarette I noticed the kid on the street looking at me in as much shock as a little kid can muster.

So I went inside and turned on the little FM radio I own. Bob Seger. I like Bob Seger so I turned it all the way up until it was all just distorted crackles and pops coming out of its crappy speaker. And I went back outside where the barium sulfate was already drying up like old sun-damaged paint on the hood of a car. That was fast, I thought, and sat back down to smoke and think of something new to write. But I couldn’t think of anything, nothing, as hard as I tried all I could think about were those words I had erased that I no longer could remember. A few days later, when the doctor told me I had a tumor the size of a baseball in my stomach, all I could think about were those erased words. And when they sent me home from the hospital telling me there was nothing else they could do for me, all I could think about were the erased words. There is nothing quite as painful as being obsessed with something that is not. In my deathbed at home all I could think about were the words I had erased. They floated in front of my eyes, written in ashes, unrecognizable, unreadable. I could almost grab them with my weak hands, but I could not read them. I could barely walk or move at all, but I dragged myself to the porch where my vomit of barium sulfate and ashes was still caked to the floor. I dropped myself to the ground, landing hard on my bony knees and not able to hold myself up, my face came crashing right against the dried vomit. Looking at it sideways along the length of the floor I could see the ashes turning into words, but it was just my deluded morphine-filled mind. So I started scraping the stuff off with my long fingernails. Scraping, scraping, scraping.

Scraping, scraping, scraping. Like fingernails on a blackboard, thought the kid, then he turned up the volume on his ipod, and pushed away mongo on his board.

Week 83: Zenph Studios 2

Our culture is a slave to the clock. We are slaves to a mechanized experience of time that rules our lives more strictly than any Nurse Ratched ever could. It is maybe this aspect of our modern experience that has fostered our fascination with time. This fascination has many manifestations, from science fiction to theoretical physics, mathematics to music. In every part of our culture people are dealing with time, trying to make more of their time, get somewhere on time, find some free time... Time has us in its unrelenting iron grip, so we look for ways to escape, ways to fly over the cuckoo’s nest.

Over the past century music has become one of the prime resources for escaping the unrelenting forward march of time, allowing us short breaks from its inevitability. Music in itself is able to modulate time, slowing it down, speeding it up, allowing us a different experience of time. Maybe because it can make time a little flexible, music has become the object of many attempts to capture time, to freeze a moment in time for future listeners to experience. From phonographs to multi-track recordings to digital sound, each new technology attempts to create an even more faithful reproduction of a musical moment so that at a later time we can re-live that moment in all the splendor that it had when it was happening.

So far the escape is just a fantasy, we are not yet truly transported away from the present and to another time to hear the actual performance that took place. Therefore, the technology must continue to advance. Upon multiple listenings the seams of the fantasy always show. But the dream remains, to one day be able to recreate an experience so faithfully that it will be indistinguishable from the original event it recreates. When the dream comes true we might then be free from the grip of the linear clock and able to experience time in a fluid, non-linear way of our choosing.

It is easy to be cynical of such dreams, but dreams like that have gotten us to Mars, inside protons and neutrons, and to the ever-rising top of the Burj Dubai, among other places. So why not dream about going to a Thelonious Monk performance at the Five Spot Cafe? Or to a Hector Lavoe show at the Cheetah Night Club? Or to a Pink Floyd (with Syd Barrett) psychedelic blowout at the UFO?

Of course some of these listening experiences are available on CD or DVD today, but can we make the experience more real? Zenph Studios, in North Carolina, is taking some giant steps towards fulfilling that dream. They are working on recreating the experience of a live performance so faithfully that one will hear it as if one where at the performance 10, 30, 50, 100 years ago when the original performance took place.

A few weeks ago I went to Zenph Studios in Raleigh for a demonstration. Zenph CEO, John Q. Walker, Ph.D., welcomed me and another musician who had also called for the demonstration, and lead us to the listening room. The room is one of the most beautiful sounding rooms I’ve been in. It is approximately 35’ x 35’, with adjustable wood paneling all around, a moderately vaulted ceiling, a slightly elevated stage area, and not a single right angle anywhere. Dr. Walker told us the room usually sits about 65 people, but that day there were five pianos in the room, two on stage and three more where the seating area would be. And there were three of us there to listen.

The Zenph team produces re-performances. For a re-perforamance, the Zenph team does a careful study of an original recording from which they then create a digital map of the performance. The map digitally describes in painstaking detail the velocity, attack, intensity, and any necessary details (pedal use for pianos, for example) of each note played in the original performance.

Other technology is then used to convert the digital map into actual notes being played on an instrument. Currently the best technology is that available for piano, so the Zenph public re-performances and recordings of re-performances have focused on solo piano compositions.

For the piano re-performances, Zenph uses high resolution MIDI along with various piano playback systems such as the Yamaha Disklavier Pro. The resulting re-performances are truly a wonder to hear.

The first re-performances we heard were a couple of Bach’s Goldberg Variations as played by Glenn Gould in 1955. The complete re-performance of Gould’s Goldberg Variations have been recorded by Zenph and released by Sony BMG to critical acclaim. And it’s easy to hear why. In 1955 Gould recorded with the technology of the day, the Zenph team, on the other hand, had available the best in modern recording technology. Live, however, it’s just a mind blowing experience. It’s sitting a few feet away from a master pianist listening to him play while watching the keys and pedals move without being blocked by the body and hands of the pianist.

Dr. Walker reminded us that the original recording was done in a different room, on a different piano, and in a different context to which Glenn Gould was responding. The re-performance would not respond to the piano, the room, or us in the same way Gould might have, had he actually been there. Fair enough, but being that Gould passed away in 1982, I can safely say that this is as close as I’ve felt to being in the same room listening to him play. And this was just the opening act!

After listening to Gould, we were treated to a sample from a turn of the 20th century Rachmaninoff performance, re-performed on a 1909 Steinway Grand equipped with an SE (Stahnke Edition) playback system. Dr. Walker explained that the original Rachmaninoff recording was live in front of a large audience so that the re-performance would sound big in the moderately small listening room we were in. He was right, Rachmaninoff was an expressive pianist and the chords on that re-performance landed on that concert grand like they were being played for a packed house at Carnegie Hall. However, this did not detract from the experience, to the contrary, the contrast between the Gould and the Rachmaninoff only helped make the performer's personality stand out even more.

The Zenph team is already developing digital maps for bass re-performances and working with other companies to develop the technology to be able to get those digital maps to play on actual basses. In the meantime, however, Dr. Walker was able to play for us a bass re-performance using a high-end loudspeaker.

We listened to Kadota’s Blues originally recorded by the Oscar Peterson Trio (Peterson, Ray Brown, and Ed Thigpen) in 1961. For the re-performance, the Oscar Peterson part played on a Bösendorfer Imperial Grand with a CEUS playback system while the Ray Brown part played through an MBL 101e Radialstrahler loudspeaker designed by Wolfgang Meletzky.



The Peterson and Brown re-performance was so vivid that I could almost see them right in front of me smiling and making faces as they responded to each others notes. It seemed like a strange reverse creative process where instead of the performers creating the music, the music was creating the performers.

After the Peterson and Brown re-performance came the headliners of the day, Fats Waller and Art Tatum.

The Waller re-performance was played on the same 1909 Steinway Concert Grand that had earlier played the Rachmaninoff. The differences were striking. While Rachmaninoff was heavy and dramatic, even a little scary, Fats Waller’s playful humor had us laughing as if he had been sitting right in front of us winking at us as he cleverly toyed with melody and rhythm.

But the real headliner of the day was Art Tatum. In 1949, Tatum recorded Piano Starts Here, live at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles. On June 3rd Zenph is releasing a recording of the re-performance of the complete Tatum album, plus a few bonus tracks, recorded in front of a live audience at the same Shrine Auditorium where the original was recorded. How's that for bending time? Furthermore, on June 19, 20 and 21 the re-performance is also being played to a live audience at the Apollo Theater. What I wouldn’t give to go hear that.

We heard several Art Tatum re-performances including an incredible version of Tiger Rag. I’d heard several versions of Tiger Rag before by Tatum and others, but watching the Steinway re-perform Tatum’s blistering runs complete with pedal moves and the humor, flair and depth of a true live performance really made me feel like I was time traveling. Bravo Zenph!

Of course there is nothing like the real thing; nothing like listening to an unexpected performer in an unexpected situation playing some music that truly transports you to another place and time. And although Zenph is focusing on classic recordings from years ago, the technology could very well be applied to new music as well. I imagine home performances that can be experienced around the world on real instruments and not just via television or a stereo, for example.

When I asked at what point the technology would be so readily available and affordable that we would be able to hear re-performances in local piano bars, Dr. Walker, pointed out that the technology is still in its early stages of development. The re-performances that they have been developing are of very specific moments in time and place. A Carnegie Hall performance on a 10-foot grand probably won’t work as well re-performed in a small bar with an upright piano. The instruments themselves, and pianos in particular, have their own idiosyncrasies as well. But the Zenph team is working on it. After bass, they’ll be working on drums, then saxophone, then guitars and eventually voice. But their ultimate objective, their holy grail, is to be able to find the signature for each performer’s style, their musical DNA, the algorithms that would allow us to hear not just a re-performance, but a re-performer who could then perform in any number of contexts and any number of musical compositions, even ones the original performer might never had played. I know, the whole thing sounds a little spooky and it makes me a little uneasy, but that is the same feeling I imagine we’ll get when we are actually able to time travel, it’s the feeling of the future happening in the present.

Week 82: Movies and Music

Today I’m going to recommend a couple of movies about music that you may or may not have watched. I hadn’t watched either until recently and I’m glad I did. Both are available in Netflix.

The Great World of Sound

I wanted to catch this at the theater to support local filmmaking in North Carolina, but with the baby and all, it’s hard to get to the movie theater these days. Luckily the movie is now on dvd and available for home viewing.

This is a really good movie. It’s about a guy who gets a job as a talent scout with an artist management company called the Great World of Sound. It’s like the poor man’s version of American Idol. Martin and his partner Clarence get sent to towns where ads have been placed for auditions. They then audition the people and sign everyone who is willing to put a down payment to show their good faith and commitment to being part of the Great World of Sound team.

It’s an obvious shark operation, and in case you wouldn’t immediately jump to that conclusion, the first scene of the movie is of someone spray painting a regular black vinyl record in gold. From then on every time you see a gold record hanging on an office wall (and you see a lot of them in this movie) you know it’s just spray painted. Makes me wonder about all those gold records in the office of the Accountant to the Stars.

The interesting thing about this movie, however, is not the subtleties of the shark operation and how it cons people out of their money. The interesting thing is how people willingly participate even against their better instincts, and the arguments everyone makes to convince themselves and others that it is not a scam, or that even if it is, so what. And by everyone I mean from the top head shark to the musicians themselves who audition. And in an interesting production twist the movie was made by actually placing fake ads for auditions and having real performers audition as if it was a real audition and interacting with the two actors playing the talent scounts in a very seamless way. This is a twist which the movie website is not shy about communicating, and it puts a weird spin on the whole experience through a sort of self-referential trick, which puts the audience in the midst of a certain kind of shark scheme in and of itself.

It’s a grim salesmen movie, not as angry as Death of Salesman, not as bitter as Glenngary Glenn Ross. But the scary thing to me was that before it reminded me of either of those movies with which it has lots more in common, the only movie that kept running through my head while watching it was Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer. The main character in GWS, Martin, has a detachment from himself that was eerily reminiscent of Henry. It is obvious to the viewer that they are part of a scam operation, yet Martin doesn’t seem to react to the very obvious clues. It is similar to the way an unsuspecting cast member in a horror movie doesn’t see that he is about to be chopped to bits by some monster with an axe and continues walking right into that dark basement. Even as Martin’s conscience begins telling him that he is part of a mean scam, he is unable to take himself out of it. Almost like his conscience is not really his own.

It’s a spooky kind of movie, Pat Healy and Kene Holliday do a great job as the tag team talent scouts, and the dialogue is very convincing, the “training” scenes especially almost had me sold on why it's ok to take peoples money. It takes a lot of flunky college students paying tuition for the subsistence of the university out of which a few great minds will emerge, something like that was one of the arguments.


Hustle and Flow

The other movie I watched recently that really impressed me is Hustle and Flow. This movie came out in 2005 and I probably would’ve ignored it altogether, thinking it was another rappers and pimps movie, which it is. But man, this is an incredibly good movie. I would’ve given Terrence Howard the Oscar for best actor if I could. It’s a movie about a pimp, who in his 40s decides he wants to do something else with his life and decides to record a rap record.

But these are not the pimps and rappers you see in every video you ever saw, sporting gold chains and teeth and driving convertibles and yachts surrounded by dozens of bikini clad women. The only bling in this movie is the rollers that Djay (the main character) puts on his hair to curl it. He only has two woman working for him and one is his girlfriend who is pregnant with his child. He barely has enough money to buy equipment at the local pawn shop. It’s all sweat and tears for this pimp and his hos, but somehow the dream of making a record and how he inspires that dream into those around him makes their situation joyful, difficult but joyful.

The recording scenes are some of the best I’ve seen on film. A bunch of old crappy equipment, casio keyboards, taped up microphones, cassette recorders (even though they know that CDs are the standard, they can’t afford that technology), and yet the life they get from working on the project, and the excellent quality of the music they are making do not depend on the quality of the equipment.

On top of that Terrence Howard really gives an incredible performance. The language, his accent, his demeanor, everything is perfect. Apparently he spent a year living in Memphis with various pimps to prepare for the role. If he really did that then it totally paid off.


By the way, the music in both of these movies is outstanding.

Week 81: Telephone Call from Televisionland

Opening scene for Austin Powers, International Man of Mystery, lots of dancing and being chased by girls, but everyone stops to dance together at some points.

Stones 1981 Start Me Up tour plaing Shattered and Neighbors at breakneck speed, flawlessly, I almost wanted to jump up my seat. I forgot how good the stones are (were? – haven’t seen them since 1987).

Some duet called Bosco and Wifer in that CMT duets show. You all should totally work the hippie thing they were told. No one else looks like them according to the girl in the duet. Now some other duet is doing Marshall Tucker Band. Gonna take a freight train…

Mick Jagger playing guitar on Just My Imagination… a mistake. He looks as old in 1981 as he does today 25+ years later. Amazing. They were already dinasours in 1981. What are they now? Still rocking I guess. Snorting ashes. Mick Jagger is such a freak. Bill Wyman just took a look at him shaking his rump for thousands of people and just snickered. 19th Floor Nervous Breakdown. Again at breakneck speed. Charlie Watts is one boogie machine. Ok that song was over before I finished the sentence. Now, Let Me Go. Again at breakneck speed, How old are these guys? I want some of that geritol they’re taking. Now Mick is running through the audience with about 10 bodyguards around him and the audience is trying to grab at him and he’s singing let me go. Its like the british 60s people were obsessed with chasing and being chased. That’s freedom baby.

Commercials everywhere, when will they ever go away? Geckos dancing to Thriller with a girl, and that horrible new Subway jingle, scientifically created for the sole purpose of drilling into your head four notes that you then can't help but repeat over and over in your mind. Thank god for local car dealer commercials.

Mother Judd hands down harsh judgements on two guys who want to make it as a duet. Now she’s shaking her head, these poor chumps trying to sing for the “judges”, trying to “impress" the "judges”. Trying to be what they think they want them to be. Sad really. And not very good to see them try to fit into a certain size of jean, then look like its not their size and sound like crap singing. The song selection doesn’t help either.

Did Ron Wood get picked because he and Keith smoke cigarettes the same way? What would Mother Judd think of Mick and Keith singing a duet for her? Keith has a horrible voice. Mick walks around like my daughter, shrugging shoulders, pointing at nothing and everything, not rough enough, not tough enough. This song is not doing it, not making love to you Mick. Sorry.

Austin Powers is talking to the blind man in the bathroom and over-powdering with pimp powder. He’s English. Tom Arnold as a cowboy. Youre gonna blow your o-ring. Show that turd who’s boss. We’re gonna get through this. How about a courtesy flush.

The million dollar song is coming up after commercials in a show called Don’t Forget the Lyrics. Sounds pretty exciting, but Country Crock Omega Plus? I don’t think so.

Now there’s a duo called LB and Oakley. On the name alone I am going to "judge" them and say with Mother Judd, no thanks. And what is up with that guy’s haircut?

Alright! the million dollar song! And it's Blame It On The Rain by Milli Vanilli, 1989! #1 for 2 weeks. The contestant lady has to remember it to “get her money.” 11 missing words she has to remember. This is a horrible song, and even worse, the host and the contestant are singing it together. She’s gonna be the very first millionaire if she remembers the 11 words.

At the Stones concert its night time now. Before it was daytime. How long have they been playing, 40+ years? You can’t always get what you want. Unless you want Mick shaking his rump. I’m thinking they’re about my age in this movie. Forty or so. All class.

I’m gonna go smoke a cigarette.

The wife saw today a girl scout from the local Girl Scout Carrboro NC Troop 420. She had a girl scout uniform that said Troop 420 on the back. In case you had doubts that I live in a hippie town. Someone asked if they then had an opium den mother.

Oh and Bret Michaels has a new solo record coming out. Why?

There are a bunch of shows on TV that pretend to be about music, but are anything but. TV sucks.

Week 80: Memorials 1 - 8

A young boy lays on his bed with roadrunner sheets looking over his stamp collection. His album is full of stamps from strange faraway islands like Christmas Island or Wallis and Futuna, or wealthy city-states like Monaco or Umm al-Quwain, stamps from countries that no longer exist like Nyasaland or Rio Muni. The stamps combined with the 18th century Salgari adventure books he’s been reading take his imagination on faraway adventures and expeditions to the Ganges Delta, Damascus, or Lake Maracaibo, wherever there is land or water to be discovered the boy will venture there in camel or elephant caravans or maybe in a speedy sloop or schooner, canons at the ready. As the young boy lays on his bed with roadrunner sheets looking over his stamp collection he whistles along to Styx’s Babe as it plays on his AM Donald Duck radio. Babe I’m leaving, I must be on my way….

A grandmother stands on the sidewalk talking to the cops who’ve just arrived, letting them know that there is nothing to worry about, it’s just her teenage grandson having a birthday party with some of his friends, would they want to come in for a beer? Meanwhile the large group of teenage boys and girls slow dances in grandma’s darkened living room. The girls and boys squeeze each other, some tighter, some loser, and all together they sing the chorus to Ebony and Ivory, live together in perfect harmony.

Two brothers and a sister are spending the weekend at their newly divorced dad’s newly acquired penthouse condo. There is not that much to do in the penthouse, everything seems to be fragile and made for adults only. But dad lets them play the stereo, even though he constantly repeats to them that they need to be careful because it is the new top of the line Marantz system and extremely expensive. The three children turn on the radio and out comes blasting That’s the Way by KC and the Sunshine Band. They love this song so they immediately turn it up and run to dad’s bedroom because he has the biggest bed in the world. In one leap all three are on top of the bed, jumping up and down with joy and singing along, That’s the way aha aha I like it, aha aha, that’s the way.

A teenage girl looks out the window of her dad’s trailer. Outside a skinny teenage boy is half drunk and flailing his arms around in an attempt at looking like he’s playing guitar, while standing shirtless on top of the beer cooler. He doesn’t care that it’s late and sings along as loud as he can to Ted Nugent’s Wango Tango, It's a crazed gyration of the rock generation. He knows all the words, and there are a lot of them. His best friend is rolling on the ground laughing, and the girl looking out from the trailer window falls in love.

Two teenagers enter Flipperland and walk right by the opposing rows of pinball machines on each end of the room. Other kids crowd around the machines while AC/DC’s Back in Black blasts out of the jukebox in the corner. At the other end of the room there is a small door. The two teenagers open it and enter into a low dimly lit hallway. The hallway goes about 20 feet, then takes a turn to the right and opens into a small smoky room with a bar and a pool table. A few adults are standing around drinking, playing pool, talking, doing what adults do in bars. The two teenagers step up to the bar and ask for two Budweisers.

A young teenage couple goes to their local Holiday Inn to dance. The Holiday Inn has a nice quiet bar and a small wooden dance floor and hardly anyone is ever there, certainly not any of their friends. It’s their quiet date place and tonight is special because he will soon be going to another state to go to college while she stays behind to finish her senior year. She loves him and he loves her and they dance to Denise Williams’ Lets Hear It for the Boy. A few days later he leaves for college and they will never speak again.

A college student is driving back home for the summer, he’s been on the road for twenty hours straight, stopping only for gas, food and bathrooms. It’s the middle of the night in the middle of the country, miles from any town, and he is cruising on his red mustang searching the radio for a good station. Suddenly he hears a song that he can’t quite categorize. In it he hears a combination he never thought possible – hippie music and hard rock music played in a way that sounded good. He’s hoping the DJ will say who it is once the song is over, but just then his car runs over an armadillo on the road and he loses control. The car goes into a ditch and up the railroad tracks on the other side before flipping over. He watches the whole thing happen as if waking up from a dream and right before drifting into unconsciousness he hears the singer on the radio ask, where do we go, where do we go now, where do we go, and then a growl that turns into a scream.

A collegiate angry young artist spent the night drinking coca cola, one every hour for the past 20 hours, four more to go to finish the case, four more pictures of empty coke cans, then dawn and the performance piece would be over. He sits on a chair facing the dresser that was in the dormitory room when he got there. He grips the armrests tightly and taps his feet in a caffeinated buzz, his stomach doesn't feel too good. But his boombox sitting on top of the dresser is blaring for the umpteenth time in a row, Station to Station and he grits his teeth as David Bowie sings, It’s not the side effects of the cocaine, I’m thinking that it must be love. But it was the side effects of the cocaine.

Week 79: The Ballad of Stayed and Gone 9

I didn’t want to do this two weeks in a row at this point, but I’ve been trying to figure out what else to post about, and I’m drawing a total blank. This is the music that I'm thinking about so it's hard to step outside of it to talk about anything else. A friend of mine was going to write about Mr. Springsteen, but I think that’s going to be next week. You hear that Mr. D?

Anyway…

Last weekend we did some location recording. Our engineer, Jesse, has this really cool handheld recorder, which does 2-track recording with a 4-mic capsule configuration. It fits in your hand, takes about a second to set up, and you’re ready to record on location. It’s a nice little machine and we took it out to record various bits that we want to use for the record.

The first thing we did was use it for Marina's first recording session.
We recorded about 5 minutes of her playing on two toy pianos. I know, bear with me for a moment. Here’s a very very short video of one of the compositions she performed for the recording. This one we call A Very Very Short Composition 1.



Marina’s recording will be used as an intro to a song called Baby Camilia. The idea is that the song will transition from Marina’s piano recording to pianist Alex Bowers' recording on the same toy pianos, to Alex’s recording on a grownup piano. Musically the track is a solo piano instrumental piece loosely based on the song Camilia, a version of which was posted last week. So in a sense Baby Camilia works as a prelude to the later Camilia song.

There is a lot of Marina in this record, not only her voice and her tinkering on various instruments, but also her presence and her influence on the music, how it was written, performed and recorded. Ultimately the record is for her. It is the record that, if she is ever interested, in 15, 20, 30 years, she can listen to it and get a sense of what home was like back then.

After recording Marina’s piece, we went to the Local 506 and met up with Grandmaster of Ceremonies Hoppie to record him doing a carny call. He is better known for his MC'ing skills with a microphone and a top hat introducing some band, or a rock paper scissors match, but he transitioned nicely to a megaphone and a top hat trying to convince people to step right up. Along the way we also picked up some nice ambient sounds.

Further down is a draft of the Carny Call track, which leads into another track, Itch, which leads into another, Feet Beat Faster (or something like that, the title has not been decided upon yet).

The Carny Call draft is composed of a bunch of different stuff recorded all over the place. I did this draft in garageband with my crappy headphones, and afterwards, when i played it on the regular "nice" stereo, it sounded way more muddled than it did on the headphones. Go figure. Listening to it on the stereo we figured that Hoppie’s vocal track will need to be upped a little and given more separation. But this draft is not supposed to be perfect, just good enough to get a general idea so that when we go into the studio to cut the final version together, we’ll have a good blueprint to guide us. At any rate, if you listen to it I recommend using headphones.

Itch is pretty close to finished, but it still needs a lead instrument during the instrumental break (suggestions?) and there is a little bit more work to do on the ending/transition.

Feet Beat Faster is also pretty close to being done, except there will be piano at the tail end of it, big piano chords, like giant footsteps. The quote at the beginning of the song is from Carlos Fuentes’ Gringo Viejo.

Here’s the three tracks back to back – Carny Call into Itch into Feet Beat Faster

Week 78: The Ballad Of Stayed and Gone 8

Sometimes it’s nice the way a project develops over a long period of time. And by project I mean the working out of particular ideas and their documentation.

As time and energy are put into it, the project begins to take a life of it's own and to suggest it's own development. A long time ago, when I started working on the material that would end up being part of this project, I did it in an intuitive sort of way. A conversation with someone would stick in my head, or an image, or a dream, or a particular melody or structure. As these stuck in my head i would start putting them together into ditties and verses, bits and pieces. Over the past year, I've recorded the material and listened to it and edited it, and then re-recorded it and listened again, and edited again. And this cycle has been repeated several times. And each time connections between the parts and what the project is about begins to take focus.

Formally, it is shaping up to be in part a concept album, in the sense that it explores related ideas from different angles. It’s also a little bit like a musical, because there is an underlying story, although the story is more implied than literal. It does, however, have a certain melodramatic quality to it that is reminiscent of musicals. Ultimately, however, a formal categorization of the project is not that important except as it helps us move forward by giving it some momentary cohesiveness as it threatens to run wild. However, if one thing has become clear over the past year, it is that this record is an exploration into an ocean of intersections and contradictions, a place where opposites are not so opposite. In particular it is an exploration of how the way we feel about home and leaving can change over time.

Over the time I've been working on this project I've had many ups and downs about my feelings for it. We've kept on track though and now we've moved "out of a red flare of dreams and into a common light of common hours. Until old age brings the red flare again." In that common light of common hours we float amidst a group of sounds, words and ideas that are taking audible shape as a horizon all around us. A changing horizon, so that what begins sounding like an answer often ends up being a question. “I hear the sounds of home” as a statement made by me changes suddenly into “Do you hear the sound of footsteps?” as a question I am being asked. And the horizon begins to take shape and as it does it gives the project its shape. Like the two years I spent reading the Brothers Karamazov, towards the end I felt like Dostoevsky was reading me rather than the other way around.

So what follows are windows whereby you can see individual tracks from the group that together form the ocean on which we tread, the ocean that is this project. Actually it's more like surfing. Catching that wave as it's rising, standing up on the board and riding it until the board is flowing with the wave. Then seeing the crest begin to turn and the pipe start to form, and we hunch down, point one hand towards the future, and use the other hand to trace the inside of the wave, feeling its shape, its flow, the undertow lifting from behind and propelling us forward. It is then that we begin to carve our leads into the giant and the music begins to really sing.

Ideally, at the end, the tracks should stand on their own, but right now it’s hard for me to see them individually. In each track I hear the echoes of the previous ones and the anticipation of the ones that follow. It feels weird to separate them from the group to post them individually here. Like my friend who would get all excited about playing a record, then he would play you only the first 10 or 20 seconds of a song before skipping to the next one. He wanted to play you the whole record in one minute. I always though that was so annoying. This feels like I'm doing that to you. But I'm not, because this songs can stand on their own. I hope.

We have been approaching these ideas with several different methodologies. Here's a sample of the method whereby we start with drums and go from there. This is Double Sunglasses Sunday, which you heard in a previous post as a garageband sketch. Here it is still in a fairly basic form and still needing some work, but at this juncture this version is a good representation of the shape of the song.

Another method we are using is to start with vocals and guitar and go from there. Camilia is one of the songs we are producing that way. The plan is to add to this some piano, for more percussive rhythm, and pedal steel for more tears and air at the instrumental bridge.

On the above link, Camilia is followed right away by Double Sunglasses Monday which is what it’s like being lost in Montreal. In a previous post I posted the original Garageband version of this song. Here it is now in its almost complete form with real instruments.

I’m really getting a kick from transitions.

We are using other methods, including recording some songs live under the James Taylor bridge where the cars go thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump high above, but I’ll tell you more about those later.

It’s nice working on a project at this pace. Like a chess game where days go by between moves, but with more players. Maybe like that old negotiating game, remember Diplomacy?


In other news:

Valient Himself, leader of the Venusian rock and roll band Valient Thorr is donating one of his kidneys to his earth father. Read the press release here.

As a result of this Valient Himself has incurred some debt and to help pay for the debt he is auctioning a number of his paintings and has also promised to make a line drawing of any picture you send him for just $29.00 ($25 + $4 S&H). Here’s the link to that follow up post.

So contact Valient Himself through the Valient Thorr myspace page or write to Valient Himself at cloudbox@hotmail.com and ask for details. Valient Himself is doing the hard work of donating the kidney, your part would be to send a few dollars to help him pay the bills, and you’ll get an original Venusian line drawing of your mug, or any mug you like.

Week 77: Of Snakes and Arrows, Guest Post by Brer Platypus

When I found out my friend was attending a Rush concert in Puerto Rico, I had to ask him to write about it, since I know everyone here just loves Rush. So here's my friend, Brer Platypus now.

OF SNAKES AND ARROWS
by Brer Platypus.

Carlos' follow-up request to blog about a tropical evening with Rush found me in a cloud of camphor, with a shroud on my head and my feet immersed in a bucket of icewater.

Charmer that Carlos is (which is ironic for someone whose nom-de-plume is that of a slithering charmee), he graciously added he would let me off the hook and post some unflattering picture of myself. Hence and therefore, I deprive him of his jollies thus:


Gentle reader, you may ask how one ends up in such a sorry state; but I'll leave out the sordid broad strokes of my 'lost weekend' and concentrate on leaching the details of Friday evening from my frazzled wetware.

Rush kicked off the second leg of their Snakes and Arrows tour in San Juan, Puerto Rico this past weekend after a hiatus of indeterminate duration (I'm on a reduced-fact diet right about now). This varies from the norm here on the island where many acts shoehorn San Juan into their schedules almost as an afterthought, often at the tail end of their tours, resulting in hurried setups without the full stage paraphernalia and careless soundchecks.

In this case, Rush were here since the previous week (I read somewhere that Lifeson was the exception) and they had at least one full dress rehearsal, so on Friday night, everything ran like clockwork and for once, the sound in the 'Choli' (San Juan's most expensive venue, both in terms of taxpayer dollars as well as ticket prices) was admirably spot-on.

I was fortunate enough to have a friend who won a drawing for a pre-show 'booze and schmooze' and unfortunate enough to live on an island where security agents don't know shit from shinola and we had to walk to several distant entrances until we found the one that had the 'VIP lists' and as a consequence, never made it to any 'meet and greet'...

...so, by the time we figured out how to spirit my friend's camera past the 'guardias de palito' (rent-a-cops) and were directed beyond the velvet ropes, the pre-party crowd was righteously raucous, so I turned my attention to pressing matters... and this I suppose is a universal curse: 'drinks' at a concert are invariably whoever's horsepiss that sponsored the gig, sold in plastic cups at 5 bucks a pop.

Having started drinking the evening before and hellbent on spending the weekend in a more-or-less constant state of inebriation, I sidled up to one of the four strategically placed open bars and set about swilling as many free light beers as I could before some beancounter deemed the party over.

The revelry was interrupted by a shrill cry of "Empezó" (It has begun!); and a stampede ensued as people tried to reach their assigned levels/areas/seats... having ascertained that the pre-party bars would remain staffed as long at there was still cerveza to hand out, I ducked into the nearest entrance...

Rush's reputation precedes them and we were not disappointed; we were regaled with a three-hour tour-de-force.

Here is the set list that I had seen posted online by someone at the rehearsal, which to my recollection was correct:

Limelight
Digital Man

Ghost Of A Chance
Mission
Freewill
The Main Monkey Business
The Larger Bowl (video intro)

Red Barchetta
The Trees
Between The Wheels
Dreamline

INTERMISSION AKA "a short break to rest the old bones" --Geddy Lee.

Sorry the pictures suck, but then I only had my phone with me. I'll see if my friends are amenable to letting me purloin their shots which are much better.

A fair deal of criticism is always leveled, here at least, when bands on tour don't play every last hit or anthem they are known for... a few of my friends need to be reminded that Rush are not in 'nostalgia band mode' and that concerts are arguably for pushing new material out under the public's nose....

Aside from the asswhooping sound... the stage for Snakes and Arrows seemed deceptively skimpy, but after a while it became apparent that it had a lot of clever stuff built in... my favorite were the UFOs, best described as a bevy of hexagonal pods packed with all sorts of lighting goodies, which descended from time to time and could tilt and direct a barrage of different lights at any given point, all carefully choreographed under computer control. Pretty slick shit, reminiscent of the Mothership in 'Close Encounters.'

Just as unexpected, a clever array of prisms and mirrors, some at the foot of the stage, allowed a phalanx of green lasers to ricochet wildly and paint abstract designs on the ceiling and periphery...

Now on to the band... Carlos prompted me with a few sundry questions to observe answer during the concert... the most memorable being how the band looked at this juncture and if Geddy nose was still growing (I take this to mean that Carlos has proboscis-envy). I can report that all three members seem hale and hearty, perhaps noting only that Alex seemed to hold back from any antics but I cant draw on anything for a comparison.

I don't know if this is par for the course for Lifeson or what, but any midsong changeover where he had to play acoustic guitar or in one case, a mandolin, this would be propped up on a tripod for him and carried off when no longer necessary.

Geddy was quite lively (then again, I checked and the wiki says he's 54; thats not so bad, is it?) and apparently we can rest easy, his schnozz doesn't seem larger than life, although thanks to a close-up on the big screen behind him, it's quite obvious that he managed to burn his nose in the PR sun!

Far Cry (video intro)
Workin' Them Angels
Armor and Sword
Spindrift
The Way The Wind Blows
Subdivisions
Natural Science
Witch Hunt

Here, Neil Peart launched into his solo, which was impressive though IMHO seemed gimmicky in some parts. His kit seemed reasonably compact from what one may have been led to believe, confined to a 12x12 foot spinning octagon. Some of this compactness may have been due to the digital pads he now employs, which brings me to the gimmicky part: while I didn't have the best view from the bar, it seemed to me that when the kit spun and he started playing on the back side it was akin to a child's drum set, which was pretty cool... but at some point he started into the pads and played all kinds of instruments, like strings and whatnot... i mean, play drums, just because you can strike a pad and make it oink like a pig is pretty ho-hum to me. Programmability and sampling is fine, but be a percussionist! Let the flames begin :)

Malignant Narcissism (drum solo)
Hope
The Spirit Of Radio
2112 (overture/the temples of syrinx)
Tom Sawyer (south park intro)

Geddy's stage demeanor is the best, great rapport, greeting in Spanish and getting the crowd stoked. They poked fun at themselves, the big screens in the back playing excerpts from Great White North and intro-ing Tom Sawyer with a South Park parody of the band.

ENCORE
One Little Victory
A Passage To Bangkok
YYZ

I have to add that, living up to the word-of-mouth, Rush goes through pains to sound every bit as good in a live performance as they do in the studio, they are uncompromising! All told, easily one of the bests stage performances I've ever seen.

I now return you to the studio where Carlos will give us the latest weather forcast from Chapel Hill... What's it look like? Carlos?

Week 76: Zenph Studios