Computers are driving me crazy. My MacBook Pro just died this past week. Logic board crapped out, apparently, and I don't have the funds to replace it. So I went and bought a hard drive enclosure and took apart the laptop to extract the hard drive, a process that required making a separate trip to the store to buy a special screwdriver, just for 5 little screws in the computer.
I'm fortunate in that I inherited an iMac last year from my dad's business (I guess they don't use Apple stuff anymore), so I'm not totally shit out of luck, just not very mobile anymore. And I've been having all kinds of issues installing recording software and Waves plugins. So right now, all the work I've been doing on my solo album has been put on hold.
It's times like these I must remind myself that every step of the journey is the journey. This break that I am taking from my work (which I did not choose) is actually part of the work that I'm doing. And I know when I get all this technological nonsense sorted out that I will return to my writing and recording with a renewed vigor and sense of urgency.
Until then...
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Routine
Do you ever feel like you're off to a bad start in the morning? You don't want to face the day? You feel down on yourself? You're unhappy?
Try incorporating as much or as little of this into your morning routine as you want:
1 - Look at yourself in the mirror. No, don't just see yourself. LOOK AT yourself. Behold yourself.
2 - Smile. Behold your smile.
3 - Recite or sing to yourself any or all of "Firework" by Katy Perry
3 - No, but seriously.
4 - Say the following: "There are lots of people who love me." Repeat as many times as it takes for you to FEEL the truth of the statement.
5 - Smile. It follows naturally from step 4.
6 - Go about your day
Try incorporating as much or as little of this into your morning routine as you want:
1 - Look at yourself in the mirror. No, don't just see yourself. LOOK AT yourself. Behold yourself.
2 - Smile. Behold your smile.
3 - Recite or sing to yourself any or all of "Firework" by Katy Perry
3 - No, but seriously.
4 - Say the following: "There are lots of people who love me." Repeat as many times as it takes for you to FEEL the truth of the statement.
5 - Smile. It follows naturally from step 4.
6 - Go about your day
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Namaste
I was stopped at a red light in downtown Nashville today when I looked over and saw a "crazy person" at the bus stop. He was by himself, facing a blown up map of the bus routes but clearly not reading it. He was talking quite animatedly to himself and gesturing wildly. He would sort of turn his body periodically, not to look at passersby, but just as part of gesturing like some odd form of dance.
I am certainly no expert, but my initial diagnosis is schizophrenia, which tells me a couple things:
1 - This human's behavior was so odd I had to label it to arrive at an explanation.
2 - Anyone who does anything exceedingly weird or out of the ordinary in public (and is talking to themselves and seemingly unaware of the people around them) MUST be a schizophrenic.
(for the sake of this post, I will continue with my assumed diagnosis)
Schizophrenic is a word that I absolutely hate. It completely dehumanizes a person. This is why you might hear me use the phrase "person (man or woman) with schizophrenia." Language is a funny tool. The words you choose to call an object shape your view of that object just as your view of an object shapes the language you choose to describe it. You see how meaning is co-created here? When I or you or anybody else looks at someone and says he or she is a schizophrenic, I/you/whoever has just equated that person with his or her illness. Then, there is nothing left to say about that person. He or she IS their diagnosis. Now let's drug them up and lock them away because they are scary and I don't know how to deal with them and their crazy psychosis thankyouverymuch. It's easy to lock away a schizophrenic (we've been doing it forever). It's not as easy to lock away a human being (who may have a mental illness).
"Why do you care so much?" This is the question you might be asking me right now, so let me explain. This is just my belief. Deep in the core of every individual on this planet, we share something. You might call it a soul, the Holy Spirit, God, the matter or energy that makes up the universe... It doesn't matter, though the language you choose to describe "it" will ultimately shape how you view the world and other people and thus how you act towards them.
Side note: Maybe if we could show more compassion to others we could come to see life as sacred and other people as divine.
Besides, how different am I from a schizophrenic man? There is research indicating that heredity plays a key factor in the illness. So either I got lucky with the genes my parents passed on OR I have yet to experience the trigger that could ultimately lead me down the spiraling path to psychosis.
When I catch myself in the act of judging or shunning someone with schizophrenia, I am failing to acknowledge what the deepest part of my soul knows: there is not much difference between you and me. This failure of acknowledgement is lethal for the shunned and scorned and is nothing more than an illusion of safety for those of us who got lucky.
Compassion and Impeccable Language. Imagine what one could do if they made it their life's work to cultivate these things.
I am certainly no expert, but my initial diagnosis is schizophrenia, which tells me a couple things:
1 - This human's behavior was so odd I had to label it to arrive at an explanation.
2 - Anyone who does anything exceedingly weird or out of the ordinary in public (and is talking to themselves and seemingly unaware of the people around them) MUST be a schizophrenic.
(for the sake of this post, I will continue with my assumed diagnosis)
Schizophrenic is a word that I absolutely hate. It completely dehumanizes a person. This is why you might hear me use the phrase "person (man or woman) with schizophrenia." Language is a funny tool. The words you choose to call an object shape your view of that object just as your view of an object shapes the language you choose to describe it. You see how meaning is co-created here? When I or you or anybody else looks at someone and says he or she is a schizophrenic, I/you/whoever has just equated that person with his or her illness. Then, there is nothing left to say about that person. He or she IS their diagnosis. Now let's drug them up and lock them away because they are scary and I don't know how to deal with them and their crazy psychosis thankyouverymuch. It's easy to lock away a schizophrenic (we've been doing it forever). It's not as easy to lock away a human being (who may have a mental illness).
"Why do you care so much?" This is the question you might be asking me right now, so let me explain. This is just my belief. Deep in the core of every individual on this planet, we share something. You might call it a soul, the Holy Spirit, God, the matter or energy that makes up the universe... It doesn't matter, though the language you choose to describe "it" will ultimately shape how you view the world and other people and thus how you act towards them.
Side note: Maybe if we could show more compassion to others we could come to see life as sacred and other people as divine.
Besides, how different am I from a schizophrenic man? There is research indicating that heredity plays a key factor in the illness. So either I got lucky with the genes my parents passed on OR I have yet to experience the trigger that could ultimately lead me down the spiraling path to psychosis.
When I catch myself in the act of judging or shunning someone with schizophrenia, I am failing to acknowledge what the deepest part of my soul knows: there is not much difference between you and me. This failure of acknowledgement is lethal for the shunned and scorned and is nothing more than an illusion of safety for those of us who got lucky.
Compassion and Impeccable Language. Imagine what one could do if they made it their life's work to cultivate these things.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Just because it's there...
...doesn't mean you have to use it.
That's something I always try to remind people whom I'm recording. However, today I totally threw that idea out the window while recording my guitar:
5 Microphone signals (utilizing every mic I own)
3 Delay pedals...all engaged (in a feedback loop, no less)
My own rules don't apply to me.
Also, I need to get a real camera...
Friday, May 18, 2012
"eight year olds, dude"
I had some time to kill in Chattanooga the other day, so I ran by Rick's Guitar Room out in Hixson. The owner, Rick, used to be a co-owner of Picker's Exchange back when they had a store on Brainerd Road. It had been at least a couple years since I'd run into Rick...
He likes to tell this story about me:
I started playing guitar in the third grade. I guess that puts me at about eight years old. My grandpa had bought me my first guitar from a pawn shop, and I think I had to beg my parents to let me take lessons. Someone recommended Picker's Exchange, so we went and checked it out. Apparently everyone there, including Rick, thought I was too young and my hands were too small and recommended I wait a few years. But I was determined.
I started taking from this guy named George Holder. I would come in to the store about 15-20 minutes before my lesson, grab an electric guitar off the wall, and plug it in to one of the amps up on this stage in the corner of the store. Maybe at this point I had been taking lessons for a few weeks, so my knowledge was limited. According to Rick, I would just wail away on this guitar, strings ringing - probably out of tune - and it was obvious I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. But Rick says my face would light up, and he could tell that this little kid just might have what it takes to be a guitar player. And sure enough, week after week, he watched me slowly get better as I proved to all the old farts that I wasn't too young and my hands weren't too small. I showed them.
I've gotten to hear this story a few times over the years visiting Picker's Exchange and Rick's Guitar Room. It used to embarrass me. I did not want anyone to know that I had ever been young and inexperienced. I just didn't like to think of myself as a child, I suppose. However, this last time I got to hear Rick tell the story, I heard it completely differently.
Here was a kid with enough audacity (and balls, quite frankly) to plug in and go to town on the guitar, even if he had no clue what he was doing whatsoever. It was a completely foreign thing, this electric guitar contraption connected to an amplifier thingy, and eight-year-old-me was curious and excited about what it could do and the sounds it could make. And he didn't give a shit if everyone in the store could hear the godawful noises he was making. Obviously, they could hear.
And now, at this point in my life and in my music career, I have found that if I want to create anything of value, I am going to need to shed all of my adult inhibitions. This caring about what other people think or what I might sound like to them. This fear of playing a wrong note or playing with the wrong guitar tone or missing a cue or singing out of tune or just messing up in general. These are adult fears. The child fears that the excitement will somehow get taken away. As an adult, I am afraid I have taken steps to do just that.
I intend to live my life like a child in a sandbox. Playful. Deliberate. The perfect balance of handle-with-care and carelessness. Continuously architecting. Repeatedly destroying. And most importantly, not giving a shit who watches or what the hell they think.
Thank you, Rick, for helping to reacquaint me with eight-year-old-self.
Monday, May 14, 2012
"In my heart and in my head, not in my pockets"
I just read this story about a janitor who recently graduated from Colombia University. Since staff there can take free classes, over the years he earned a bachelor's degree in classics. I love the bit he says at the end regarding his motivation for pursuing a subsequent graduate degree...apparently not to make more money (how much can you make with a master's or PhD in classics anyway?)
"The richness is in me, in my heart and in my head, not in my pockets."
Pretty deep, for a lowly janitor. His attitude reminds me of this carpenter they wrote a book about once...
"The richness is in me, in my heart and in my head, not in my pockets."
Pretty deep, for a lowly janitor. His attitude reminds me of this carpenter they wrote a book about once...
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Fate
I had coffee with a friend this evening. Something funny occurred to me. I met this person for the first time when I was in 4th or 5th grade. She was probably about how old I am now (early 20's). Now we are friends.
(side note: both she and her husband were HUGE mentor figures in middle and high school. We played music together. They led my youth group for a while. etc. etc. etc....now we're good friends.)
Now, I don't know how many twenty-something's are out there thinking, "I want to meet some 5th graders. They'll probably grow up to be really close friends of mine." It's just odd how things work out sometimes.
I read an interesting book by James Hillman a couple months ago. It's called The Soul's Code. The whole book is based on an idea that each individual has a unique calling or purpose toward which he or she is living. Hillman calls it the "acorn theory." And rather than thinking of human development as "growing up," he constantly refers to it as "growing down." In each of us, according to Hillman, lies a daimon. The daimon chooses the conditions into which you are born. It chooses the people who come in and out of your life. The daimon is this divine, other-worldly entity that must come to terms with its Earthbound-ness.
It is widely accepted that our early childhood experiences shape us and mold us into who we will become. Supposedly, your personality is mostly developed in childhood and remains stagnant for most of your life (according to some theorists anyway). What is so interesting about Hillman's idea is that it flies in the face of our conventional thinking.
People mostly think about cause and effect. For example...I have a fear of redheads because my mom has red hair and she dropped me on my head when I was a baby. So and so did such and such; therefore, I now believe this or that and behave a particular way.
Hillman says, no, that's not the whole story. He says there is a spirit or soul or god or daimon or whatever...and rather than looking backwards on your life like a history textbook, it is more useful to look at your life as moving TOWARDS something (as opposed to from something or because of something). All of these formative experiences you had are not just accidents that resulted in the effects you are now stuck with. The YOU-that-knows, your daimon, your soul, God, or whatever-you-call-it CHOSE these experiences for a reason. That reason is your purpose and your calling -- your fate.
These are all tough ideas to swallow. I like to believe I am in control. I decide what to do. I, I, I, me, me, me. If Hillman has any shred of truth to his thinking, there is some underlying force or destiny that has brought me to this point. There are strange forces at work, and my "I" doesn't always get to call the shots. "I" didn't get to choose when, where, or to whom I was born. "I" didn't choose where we lived or moved or where "I" went to school. "I" don't choose who cuts me off on the road. "I" don't choose who screws me over or hurts me or hurts my friends. "I" didn't choose to be a musician. I was destined to be one.
"I" didn't choose to meet my friend when I was in elementary school, and she certainly didn't choose to meet me. But the more I'm alive - find me in forty years and maybe my thinking will have changed - I sense more and more that Hillman is on to something. These chance meetings and happenings...these "coincidences" that set the stage for the present and future: they may not be accidents at all. They might be the work of some unseen hand...some god or daimon that has a plan, some sort of purpose.
To me, that idea is equally as comforting as it is terrifying. But more frequently, I keep seeing "happy accidents" transform people's lives. I think there's a worldview that accounts for these as mere coincidence. That's fine if you think like that. But I sense a spirit or some sort of magic at play.
Yet no matter what, I am merely grateful that things have worked out the way they have thus far because I know good folks to drink coffee with.
(side note: both she and her husband were HUGE mentor figures in middle and high school. We played music together. They led my youth group for a while. etc. etc. etc....now we're good friends.)
Now, I don't know how many twenty-something's are out there thinking, "I want to meet some 5th graders. They'll probably grow up to be really close friends of mine." It's just odd how things work out sometimes.
I read an interesting book by James Hillman a couple months ago. It's called The Soul's Code. The whole book is based on an idea that each individual has a unique calling or purpose toward which he or she is living. Hillman calls it the "acorn theory." And rather than thinking of human development as "growing up," he constantly refers to it as "growing down." In each of us, according to Hillman, lies a daimon. The daimon chooses the conditions into which you are born. It chooses the people who come in and out of your life. The daimon is this divine, other-worldly entity that must come to terms with its Earthbound-ness.
It is widely accepted that our early childhood experiences shape us and mold us into who we will become. Supposedly, your personality is mostly developed in childhood and remains stagnant for most of your life (according to some theorists anyway). What is so interesting about Hillman's idea is that it flies in the face of our conventional thinking.
People mostly think about cause and effect. For example...I have a fear of redheads because my mom has red hair and she dropped me on my head when I was a baby. So and so did such and such; therefore, I now believe this or that and behave a particular way.
Hillman says, no, that's not the whole story. He says there is a spirit or soul or god or daimon or whatever...and rather than looking backwards on your life like a history textbook, it is more useful to look at your life as moving TOWARDS something (as opposed to from something or because of something). All of these formative experiences you had are not just accidents that resulted in the effects you are now stuck with. The YOU-that-knows, your daimon, your soul, God, or whatever-you-call-it CHOSE these experiences for a reason. That reason is your purpose and your calling -- your fate.
These are all tough ideas to swallow. I like to believe I am in control. I decide what to do. I, I, I, me, me, me. If Hillman has any shred of truth to his thinking, there is some underlying force or destiny that has brought me to this point. There are strange forces at work, and my "I" doesn't always get to call the shots. "I" didn't get to choose when, where, or to whom I was born. "I" didn't choose where we lived or moved or where "I" went to school. "I" don't choose who cuts me off on the road. "I" don't choose who screws me over or hurts me or hurts my friends. "I" didn't choose to be a musician. I was destined to be one.
"I" didn't choose to meet my friend when I was in elementary school, and she certainly didn't choose to meet me. But the more I'm alive - find me in forty years and maybe my thinking will have changed - I sense more and more that Hillman is on to something. These chance meetings and happenings...these "coincidences" that set the stage for the present and future: they may not be accidents at all. They might be the work of some unseen hand...some god or daimon that has a plan, some sort of purpose.
To me, that idea is equally as comforting as it is terrifying. But more frequently, I keep seeing "happy accidents" transform people's lives. I think there's a worldview that accounts for these as mere coincidence. That's fine if you think like that. But I sense a spirit or some sort of magic at play.
Yet no matter what, I am merely grateful that things have worked out the way they have thus far because I know good folks to drink coffee with.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Trains
Sometimes an idea just takes hold up there in my brain. These are the things that keep me up until the sun rises. I will gladly take the exhaustion in exchange for the gratification.
I used to make up every excuse not to get on that train. Now I hop on and go as far as it will take me.
I used to make up every excuse not to get on that train. Now I hop on and go as far as it will take me.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Apples and Oranges
One thing I never quite understood was when someone would justify their lack of interest or inability to compare two things that are difficult - or not so difficult - to compare with the expression, "That's like comparing apples and oranges." Really, now?
Because oranges are orange. Apples are not.
There are more varieties of orange juice than apple juice at the grocery store.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away. An orange a day does not (at least according to legend).
Apples are firmer than oranges.
The skin of an apple tastes better than the peel of an orange.
They are grown on different trees in different climates...and THIS is the kicker.
Because THAT is how I feel about live recording versus studio recording. They are completely different animals grown out of different environments and intentions. Somebody might tell you comparing them is like comparing apples and oranges.
Let's suppose you go to a concert put on by your favorite band. Unless something goes abysmally wrong with the power, lights, or sound, I would say it is almost guaranteed you will enjoy yourself. IT'S YOUR FAVORITE BAND! You bought their album a few months ago and have been playing it in the car over and over on repeat. It's on your iPod running playlist. You listen to it in the shower sometimes. Okay, I might be talking about myself and not you here. So when they play track 7 off the new album, everyone goes nuts and starts dancing or jumping up or down (or running into each other and throwing elbows and fists, depending on the concert). Everyone sings along to all the words, even you, the guy/girl who doesn't like to sing in public. Your brain releases oxytocin, which is what happens when people sing and dance together. Oxytocin also happens to be associated with orgasm, sexual bonding, and is released during childbirth and enables mothers to breast-feed, which is all to say that oxytocin is a pretty serious chemical. So you had no chance when the downbeat of track 7 started. Even if the rest of the songs are mediocre AND the sound guy sucks AND the acoustics in the arena suck ass, you will come away from the concert with a positive experience, feeling like it was fifty bucks well spent (not counting the beer you drank at the venue...that shit was WAY overpriced). And unless you went to music school or have been playing an instrument your whole life, you probably didn't notice or care when the guitar player missed a note or when the singer was a little flat on that high note that he can't actually hit anymore or when the drummer started that one song a little fast or when the bassist stopped for a second to take a sip of whiskey.
Now let's say all of those things happened on the album. Everything was recorded live in a gymnasium with terrible acoustics. All the players are exhausted because they've been on the road for 200 days straight. The singer can't hit all the notes. Oh, and they're drunk and/or high (because that's what a lot of musicians seem to be when they're on stage). Are you going to buy that album, plagued with wrong notes and less-than-stellar sounds? There is such a thing as sonic quality. When we go to a live show, we forgive imperfections in that area. With an album, listeners are less forgiving. So yeah, the timing should be pretty damn close to perfect on everything. Everything should be in tune. Everything should sound more or less like what everything sounds like on similar albums being released by similar artists.
In art, there is a concept known as "canon," or a set of rules. For instance, in Ancient Egyptian art, there was a canon of proportions. All figures were drawn to the same scale (more on that here). Well, pop music has a sort of canon as well. Songs are "supposed" to take on a predictable form, be a certain length, have a particular sound. Recordings that don't fit the mold either go unnoticed or they become the "next big thing" or at least influence bands that go on to become the "next big thing." Just like in any medium of art, or in philosophy or psychology or cultural norms and societal standards. Every now and then something breaks through the status quo and becomes the NEW status quo. Exciting shit. I still can't believe women get paid less than men or that gay marriage is illegal for the most part OR that alcohol and tobacco are legal while marijuana is not. Sometimes the status quo remains stagnant for a looooong time. But it never remains unchanged. But I digress...
Side note: It's interesting that the art form of recorded music is extremely young (the wax cylinder was first used in the late 19th century) compared to writing, painting, sculpture, philosophizing (philosophy is an art as far as I'm concerned), drama, or live music. Now it seems in the world of pop music that the art of live performance is being adapted to be as close to recorded music as possible. In my opinion, that's a tragedy.
Earlier, I made it sound as though out-of-tune notes and other mistakes are a negative thing. For the most part, that is true...ish. But that theory doesn't account for the success of people like Bob Dylan. He's an easy, well-known example of someone who lacks what we might traditionally call a "good" singing voice. However, something about his tone and delivery works for his songs. Dylan will remain one of the great songwriters in history books for a very long time. The Beatles weren't always perfectly in tune either. By modern production standards, these would be considered mistakes. But I don't think anyone could argue that The Beatles are one of the most significant musical artists of all time. Certainly, no one can argue that those records sold a few copies. And they're still selling (thanks, iTunes).
So back to my initial point about apples vs. oranges. studio vs. live. Beatles vs. Nickleback. Yes, they are very different things. Sometimes I'm in the mood for an apple. Sometimes I'm in the mood for an orange. I never put an orange in my mouth and expect it to be an apple, but that doesn't mean there aren't parallels to be drawn or characteristics to contrast. The two actually go quite well together in a blender if you're in to the whole smoothie thing. For some people it's a texture thing, though. I get it. But anyhow, in the case of Beatles vs. Nickleback...well, let's just say it wouldn't be the end of the world if I gave up oranges for the rest of my life and only ate apples.
Because oranges are orange. Apples are not.
There are more varieties of orange juice than apple juice at the grocery store.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away. An orange a day does not (at least according to legend).
Apples are firmer than oranges.
The skin of an apple tastes better than the peel of an orange.
They are grown on different trees in different climates...and THIS is the kicker.
Because THAT is how I feel about live recording versus studio recording. They are completely different animals grown out of different environments and intentions. Somebody might tell you comparing them is like comparing apples and oranges.
Let's suppose you go to a concert put on by your favorite band. Unless something goes abysmally wrong with the power, lights, or sound, I would say it is almost guaranteed you will enjoy yourself. IT'S YOUR FAVORITE BAND! You bought their album a few months ago and have been playing it in the car over and over on repeat. It's on your iPod running playlist. You listen to it in the shower sometimes. Okay, I might be talking about myself and not you here. So when they play track 7 off the new album, everyone goes nuts and starts dancing or jumping up or down (or running into each other and throwing elbows and fists, depending on the concert). Everyone sings along to all the words, even you, the guy/girl who doesn't like to sing in public. Your brain releases oxytocin, which is what happens when people sing and dance together. Oxytocin also happens to be associated with orgasm, sexual bonding, and is released during childbirth and enables mothers to breast-feed, which is all to say that oxytocin is a pretty serious chemical. So you had no chance when the downbeat of track 7 started. Even if the rest of the songs are mediocre AND the sound guy sucks AND the acoustics in the arena suck ass, you will come away from the concert with a positive experience, feeling like it was fifty bucks well spent (not counting the beer you drank at the venue...that shit was WAY overpriced). And unless you went to music school or have been playing an instrument your whole life, you probably didn't notice or care when the guitar player missed a note or when the singer was a little flat on that high note that he can't actually hit anymore or when the drummer started that one song a little fast or when the bassist stopped for a second to take a sip of whiskey.
Now let's say all of those things happened on the album. Everything was recorded live in a gymnasium with terrible acoustics. All the players are exhausted because they've been on the road for 200 days straight. The singer can't hit all the notes. Oh, and they're drunk and/or high (because that's what a lot of musicians seem to be when they're on stage). Are you going to buy that album, plagued with wrong notes and less-than-stellar sounds? There is such a thing as sonic quality. When we go to a live show, we forgive imperfections in that area. With an album, listeners are less forgiving. So yeah, the timing should be pretty damn close to perfect on everything. Everything should be in tune. Everything should sound more or less like what everything sounds like on similar albums being released by similar artists.
In art, there is a concept known as "canon," or a set of rules. For instance, in Ancient Egyptian art, there was a canon of proportions. All figures were drawn to the same scale (more on that here). Well, pop music has a sort of canon as well. Songs are "supposed" to take on a predictable form, be a certain length, have a particular sound. Recordings that don't fit the mold either go unnoticed or they become the "next big thing" or at least influence bands that go on to become the "next big thing." Just like in any medium of art, or in philosophy or psychology or cultural norms and societal standards. Every now and then something breaks through the status quo and becomes the NEW status quo. Exciting shit. I still can't believe women get paid less than men or that gay marriage is illegal for the most part OR that alcohol and tobacco are legal while marijuana is not. Sometimes the status quo remains stagnant for a looooong time. But it never remains unchanged. But I digress...
Side note: It's interesting that the art form of recorded music is extremely young (the wax cylinder was first used in the late 19th century) compared to writing, painting, sculpture, philosophizing (philosophy is an art as far as I'm concerned), drama, or live music. Now it seems in the world of pop music that the art of live performance is being adapted to be as close to recorded music as possible. In my opinion, that's a tragedy.
Earlier, I made it sound as though out-of-tune notes and other mistakes are a negative thing. For the most part, that is true...ish. But that theory doesn't account for the success of people like Bob Dylan. He's an easy, well-known example of someone who lacks what we might traditionally call a "good" singing voice. However, something about his tone and delivery works for his songs. Dylan will remain one of the great songwriters in history books for a very long time. The Beatles weren't always perfectly in tune either. By modern production standards, these would be considered mistakes. But I don't think anyone could argue that The Beatles are one of the most significant musical artists of all time. Certainly, no one can argue that those records sold a few copies. And they're still selling (thanks, iTunes).
So back to my initial point about apples vs. oranges. studio vs. live. Beatles vs. Nickleback. Yes, they are very different things. Sometimes I'm in the mood for an apple. Sometimes I'm in the mood for an orange. I never put an orange in my mouth and expect it to be an apple, but that doesn't mean there aren't parallels to be drawn or characteristics to contrast. The two actually go quite well together in a blender if you're in to the whole smoothie thing. For some people it's a texture thing, though. I get it. But anyhow, in the case of Beatles vs. Nickleback...well, let's just say it wouldn't be the end of the world if I gave up oranges for the rest of my life and only ate apples.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Blank Page
Nothing is more intimidating than a blank page(/screen), which is what I just had in front of me for quite a while. When I'm writing a song, it's often the first riff or the first line that is most difficult. The rest usually falls into place over time.
Sloan River Project is in the midst of undertaking a series of recordings. We officially sold out of our Live 2009 CDs at our last gig in Nags Head, North Carolina. We've been talking for quite some time now about making some "studio" recordings. After much discussion about how to proceed, we decided to take a DIY approach and put my college degree to good use (B.M. in Music Production & Engineering from Berklee).
A couple weeks ago, we laid down drum tracks for 11 songs in the lovely city of Charlotte. Over the next couple of days I will be compiling the best takes and doing minor tweaks in the time domain. Then we'll spend a day or two overdubbing bass here in Nashville. After that, everything will start to fall into place. I will overdub some of my electric guitar parts. Meanwhile, some tunes will make their way to the west coast - thanks to the magic awesomeness of the internet - where Josh will lay down his acoustic guitar and lead vocal tracks. At some point in there, I will head to Roanoke to record Sam's acoustic guitar, lead vocals, and harmonies. I will finish up the electric guitar leads while stuff gets sent back to the west coast for Josh's harmonies. Ben and I will lay down our harmonies in Nashville. Then I will probably spend about a week mixing. We'll send files back and forth. People will chime in with comments and critiques. We'll touch up the mixes. Josh will probably master it. We'll once again send files back and forth until everyone is happy. Licenses will be secured for cover songs. Then thanks again to this magical "internet" thing, we'll have an album's worth of songs to release online.
Each step of the journey is the journey.
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