An unexpected side effect of plugging away at the Redline Project is having a pointed awareness of just how speedily a set of months can slip away. Tonight is March 31st, relegating the first three months of 2010 to the past and leaving only nine in the future.
Does this shock anyone else? We just sipped champagne and exploded poppers roughly 14 days ago. How can March 2010 be hours from vanishing?
As my custom has become at the close of each month, I am taking the opportunity to scrutinize the successes and failures of the Redline Project. Where has there been progress? Where has the momentum slacked a bit? What needs to happen to keep this initiative moving forward? Are we on track for an album release on October 31?
Let's commence with the plusses. In three months, I have acquired more than enough gear to adequately record, edit, and publish an album. Many of the acquisitions (including an electric guitar, microphones, and studio monitors) are borrowed instead of purchased, which is the only way I have managed to stay within a budget of $1,000.
Speaking of budget, I am thrilled to announce that while I have spent far less than $1,000 on the Redline Project ($877 to be exact), I have sold $900 worth of bikes and related gear to offset the cost. This has required a sizable and complicated effort. If anyone has ever tried auctioning items under Ebay's asinine new user feedback policies, you know that sellers have no recourse to deal with feisty, manipulative, or deadbeat buyers.
As I write this blog post, I received an email from one such buyer who is demanding more money back from me than he ever payed for an item sold 'as is.' Lovely. Ebay is wonderful, and Ebay sucks eggs. If someone with the username jmdesigns2 tries to buy an item from you, run far and run fast.
Frustrations considered, piecing together a basic recording studio for zero dollars is a grand success, and one that pleases my wife as well.
This month, I wrote what I consider to be my best songs so far. The tally so far is nine, including vocal and instrumental numbers. Several pieces are five minutes in length, and some are longer. Mind you, these are not final recorded versions; the tracks are currently scratch recordings meant to capture the basic form and textures of each composition.
With a baby boy coming to join our family around the first of July, I have decided that the Redline Project's final product will feature 10 original pieces of music. Originally I was aiming for 12, but I needed to adjust in order to keep the project moving forward as I prepare for fatherhood.
After the scratch recording roadmaps are all pieced together, the next step is to scrap and re-record just about everything. Three or four months worth of knowledge is virtually nothing when compared to giants of the recording industry with decades of experience lining their pockets. Om short, I am a noob. That said, I know considerably more than I did 83 posts ago, and I am hoping this base of knowledge will lend a relatively clean and polished sound to the final cuts.
Is the Redline Project on schedule? The answer, according to the original array of deadlines, is a resounding yes. I am supposed to complete all the rough cuts by May 15, which is still a month and a half out. If I Complete one more composition and two more recordings by then, I can draw a red line (pun intended) through this mile marker.
Nevertheless, I feel hopelessly behind. After the scratch tracks are complete, I must get to work recording palatable music that is at least somewhat iPod-worthy. Then comes the mixing process, with the mastering procedures hot on the tail. If these daunting tasks somehow are accomplished by October 31, I then must climb the mountain of distribution. At a glance, this final step is made easier by offering the music free of charge to anyone and everyone, but that in turn complicates the matter as it begs questions of copyright issues and distribution venues.
[Insert panicked nail biting here]
Scores of miles fade into the rearview mirror as hundreds more appear on the horizon. As this project turns into something of a second full-time job, the television tempts me with endless chasm mind-numbing nothingness. But I will press on. I will create. I will get heard.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Not Going to Believe This
Tuesday night is scheduled for open shop at Communicycle, the bicycle co-op I helped to establish. We have been meeting with the youth for some basketball while the Communicycle volunteers scramble to get the shop back in order after a recent robbery. Ian, one of the program's leaders, has been striking up conversations in past weeks with Edgar, a middle school student who among other hobbies is training as a boxer.
Ian has a deep love for music, and he was thrilled to discover that Edgar and a few of his buddies have a talent with rapping. The group approached me tonight at Ian's urging, looking for some original beats to which they could find a flow.
A quick (and perhaps stunning) admission: I have always loved the sound of rap, though I know nothing about it whatsoever. But hey... the Redline Project is composed almost exclusively of project tasks that are completely outside of my knowledge base; who am I to turn down a unique opportunity to collaborate with Edgar, Ian, and others from the Chamblee area?
So here it is, in all its glory, with all its faults. my first loop ever intended to be used in rap music. Does it make anyone besides me want to dance?
Ian has a deep love for music, and he was thrilled to discover that Edgar and a few of his buddies have a talent with rapping. The group approached me tonight at Ian's urging, looking for some original beats to which they could find a flow.
A quick (and perhaps stunning) admission: I have always loved the sound of rap, though I know nothing about it whatsoever. But hey... the Redline Project is composed almost exclusively of project tasks that are completely outside of my knowledge base; who am I to turn down a unique opportunity to collaborate with Edgar, Ian, and others from the Chamblee area?
So here it is, in all its glory, with all its faults. my first loop ever intended to be used in rap music. Does it make anyone besides me want to dance?
Monday, March 29, 2010
Thursday
Progress on the latest song has been moving along at a crawl, though I finally have something presentable to show. The verses are a bit naked as they wait for their chorus to be written, but I am going to post the mostly baked, still doughy lyrics here in the name of process.
This song has a working title of Thursday, alluding to the jarring observance of Holy Week that is once again in our midst. The phrases are not meant to become preachy or even to have any sort of message or motive. Instead, I have tried to deal with the confounding emotions present in this bewildering progression of holidays.
Loose ideas are jotted into a Microsoft Word document for the chorus, though I am only halfway satisfied with the outcome. Here is the song in progress:
Thursday
Clock says three; I can barely breathe
Words a knife; pierce me in my sleep
Broken loaf; drunk on heavy wine
Trembling fist; dipped his bread with mine
The rain must fall
Inside the garden wall
Weeping lead; sweating drops of blood
Wielding peace, fear I caused a flood
Decades fade; time has gone so fast
Tangled in fishing nets I’ve cast
The rain must fall
Inside the garden wall
Fall on my double-edged sword
Pay the price only I afford
Muscles seize; fingers start to writhe
Almost dead; barely still alive
The rain must fall
Inside the garden wall
This song has a working title of Thursday, alluding to the jarring observance of Holy Week that is once again in our midst. The phrases are not meant to become preachy or even to have any sort of message or motive. Instead, I have tried to deal with the confounding emotions present in this bewildering progression of holidays.
Loose ideas are jotted into a Microsoft Word document for the chorus, though I am only halfway satisfied with the outcome. Here is the song in progress:
Thursday
Clock says three; I can barely breathe
Words a knife; pierce me in my sleep
Broken loaf; drunk on heavy wine
Trembling fist; dipped his bread with mine
The rain must fall
Inside the garden wall
Weeping lead; sweating drops of blood
Wielding peace, fear I caused a flood
Decades fade; time has gone so fast
Tangled in fishing nets I’ve cast
The rain must fall
Inside the garden wall
Fall on my double-edged sword
Pay the price only I afford
Muscles seize; fingers start to writhe
Almost dead; barely still alive
The rain must fall
Inside the garden wall
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Song Ideas
Yesterday I described the backwards process through which I am writing my latest song. Though I have composed an entire song form (melody, harmony, chord structure, and instrumentation), I am lacking lyrics. Only two lines are filled in thus far:
Clock reads three; I can barely breathe.
Words a knife; pierce me in my sleep.
How may a song flow from this concept? Is this a tale autobiographically describing any instance of sleepless, stressful nights? Do these words describe my struggle with fear? With failure? With feelings of inadequacy?
Maybe these lines are not about me at all. Perhaps they are about a buddy of mine who wonders if anyone likes him. If anyone wants to be his friend. Or is it about a youth in the Communicycle program whose dad has departed the house leaving a mother to care for three children?
What if the lines begin to describe the horror of betrayal on Maundy Thursday leading to the death of Friday?
I am slowly realizing the value of a generic lyric - one that can be bent and flexed to mean any number of things in the mind of the listener. As details fill the gaps of a story, the number of listeners able to internalize it will undoubtedly decrease.
Clock reads three; I can barely breathe.
Words a knife; pierce me in my sleep.
How may a song flow from this concept? Is this a tale autobiographically describing any instance of sleepless, stressful nights? Do these words describe my struggle with fear? With failure? With feelings of inadequacy?
Maybe these lines are not about me at all. Perhaps they are about a buddy of mine who wonders if anyone likes him. If anyone wants to be his friend. Or is it about a youth in the Communicycle program whose dad has departed the house leaving a mother to care for three children?
What if the lines begin to describe the horror of betrayal on Maundy Thursday leading to the death of Friday?
I am slowly realizing the value of a generic lyric - one that can be bent and flexed to mean any number of things in the mind of the listener. As details fill the gaps of a story, the number of listeners able to internalize it will undoubtedly decrease.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Bit Backwards
I have romantic notions about how a song comes into existence. Perhaps the composer draws from the simplicity of childhood, the pain of the teenage years, the angst of a friend, the joy of a monumental success. Picking up a guitar, words flow out of her like warm honey and spill onto the page of a parchment journal. A melody descends from the sky, cloaking the meaningful stanzas in simple elegance. A song is born; divine.
My developing process of songwriting has absolutely nothing in common with this hypothetical approach. I trend toward a backwards approach, commencing with a musical idea or texture, humming a melody, and then frantically searching for halfway-meaningful words to accompany the musical environment.
Yesterday, I jaunted down the same old songwriting path with a bit of a twist. After laying down some sonic concepts and singing through a handful of potential melodies, my mind conjured exactly two lines of a verse; nothing more, nothing less.
Here they are:
Clock reads three; I can barely breathe.
Words a knife; pierce me in my sleep.
That's it... the whole banana. A confession: I already love this song. There is melody, harmony, chordal structure, and an array of musical ideas piled into my head and stacked onto tracks in Logic. The music even echoed off the shower walls as I wailed into the shampoo microphone this morning.
None of this is negative, except that a concept for the song's direction would be a pleasant development. If I am going to reverse-engineer a complete song from this tiny seed, some concept formulation is needed first. Look for the development of this idea tomorrow - same time, same channel.
My developing process of songwriting has absolutely nothing in common with this hypothetical approach. I trend toward a backwards approach, commencing with a musical idea or texture, humming a melody, and then frantically searching for halfway-meaningful words to accompany the musical environment.
Yesterday, I jaunted down the same old songwriting path with a bit of a twist. After laying down some sonic concepts and singing through a handful of potential melodies, my mind conjured exactly two lines of a verse; nothing more, nothing less.
Here they are:
Clock reads three; I can barely breathe.
Words a knife; pierce me in my sleep.
That's it... the whole banana. A confession: I already love this song. There is melody, harmony, chordal structure, and an array of musical ideas piled into my head and stacked onto tracks in Logic. The music even echoed off the shower walls as I wailed into the shampoo microphone this morning.
None of this is negative, except that a concept for the song's direction would be a pleasant development. If I am going to reverse-engineer a complete song from this tiny seed, some concept formulation is needed first. Look for the development of this idea tomorrow - same time, same channel.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Pile of Goodies
My buddy David loaded me up with an arsenal of cast-off equipment from his home studio. I rummaged through the red and white filing box to find microphones, cables, a simple USB recording interface, and (drumroll please...) a set of M-Audio Studiophile studio monitors. Every item on loan is useful, but I am especially delighted to have speakers through which I can playback and edit music. Until now I have been trapped inside a pair of Sennheiser earphones. Thanks David for the loan.
I spent the evening at David's house shooting the breeze and creating some midi loops. He asked about Redline Project's progress, specifically inquiring if I am paring the possibilities down and defining my sound.
Good question - pretty sure the answer is a resounding no. Short of the fact that I am enamored with delay effects, I seem to pull from an array of genres, instrumentation, textures, and rhythms as I compose the individual tracks for this project. The ability to chameleon through the sonic range has its merits, but my inability to settle into a defined sound reveals a whiff of musical immaturity.
As I slowly press towards the goal of the Redline Project album release, I must remind myself of its purposes. I am here to explore, to ideate, to loosen the chains and let the music out. As the recording is released and downloaded, I anxiously await listeners' opinions. Will the tracks have overarching coherence? Will the eclectic nature of each piece lend a pleasing mosaic effect? Or will the lack of homogeny jar the consumer's ear and land the audio files in the digital trash heap?
I spent the evening at David's house shooting the breeze and creating some midi loops. He asked about Redline Project's progress, specifically inquiring if I am paring the possibilities down and defining my sound.
Good question - pretty sure the answer is a resounding no. Short of the fact that I am enamored with delay effects, I seem to pull from an array of genres, instrumentation, textures, and rhythms as I compose the individual tracks for this project. The ability to chameleon through the sonic range has its merits, but my inability to settle into a defined sound reveals a whiff of musical immaturity.
As I slowly press towards the goal of the Redline Project album release, I must remind myself of its purposes. I am here to explore, to ideate, to loosen the chains and let the music out. As the recording is released and downloaded, I anxiously await listeners' opinions. Will the tracks have overarching coherence? Will the eclectic nature of each piece lend a pleasing mosaic effect? Or will the lack of homogeny jar the consumer's ear and land the audio files in the digital trash heap?
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Paradox
Do you remember when questions had one answer? Every aspect of my life was marked by right or wrong until the day I graduated college. Remember when red checkmarks peppered the pages of stapled exams? Remember bubble sheets and percentiles? Remember when two and two equaled four?
I believe good and evil war with each other. Though this is an abrasive fact of life, I am resigned to know nothing can change this reality.
Complexity is a web of sticky strands that spins thicker each day, and nothing is ever quite as it appears. On occasion, the underbelly of evil and the essence of good both cameo in the same scene, leaving spectators in a confounded haze.
By way of example, I heard a story about a young lady who was raped in an alley. In the aftermath, scars of fear permanently gnarled the woman's soul, leaving her emotionally paralyzed and unable to leave the apartment. The baby she bore as a result of the horrific incident is her greatest source of hope. Though she would never choose to relive the panic of the rape, she can not fathom life without her precious daughter.
I inked up a sheet of my sketch book in search of a song that deals with instances of this paradox. Though I am yet to find adequate words, the ideas are converging into a string of questions for which there are no answers. I can not wait to sing this song; hopefully it will take shape soon.
I believe good and evil war with each other. Though this is an abrasive fact of life, I am resigned to know nothing can change this reality.
Complexity is a web of sticky strands that spins thicker each day, and nothing is ever quite as it appears. On occasion, the underbelly of evil and the essence of good both cameo in the same scene, leaving spectators in a confounded haze.
By way of example, I heard a story about a young lady who was raped in an alley. In the aftermath, scars of fear permanently gnarled the woman's soul, leaving her emotionally paralyzed and unable to leave the apartment. The baby she bore as a result of the horrific incident is her greatest source of hope. Though she would never choose to relive the panic of the rape, she can not fathom life without her precious daughter.
I inked up a sheet of my sketch book in search of a song that deals with instances of this paradox. Though I am yet to find adequate words, the ideas are converging into a string of questions for which there are no answers. I can not wait to sing this song; hopefully it will take shape soon.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Audio-izing
Thank you to everyone who clicked onto the Redline Project in the past 24 hours. I am gratified to know so many enjoyed the simple music linked into yesterday's post. One commenter, a distant relative who lives in Germany, wrote a wonderful paragraph dealing with the music's ability to aurally portray the aesthetics and affects of a subdued thunderstorm.
He created a word, audio-izing, that defines the aural equivalent of visualizing. I like this concept, and I feel it is one worth considering when composing any piece of music. What imagery may the sounds create in the listener's mind? To which emotions will these aesthetics be connected? Will the consumer of the music feel that which the composer experiences as the notes are scratched onto staves or into digital recorders?
Reader's comments such as this one justify all of the time and effort poured into the Redline Project. Less than three months ago, music reverberated around my skull. Now it has found a way out, and bounces across oceans to faraway lands. The scope of this project is gargantuan and often overwhelming, but the endeavor continues to pulse tingly electricity through my veins. I have never felt so alive.
Thank you Jan for your steady readership and the time you often take to send a response through the wires. And thank you to a score of others who send notes of affirmation, constructive criticism, and encouragement. You keep my feet moving forward through the murkiest moments of this thick project.
He created a word, audio-izing, that defines the aural equivalent of visualizing. I like this concept, and I feel it is one worth considering when composing any piece of music. What imagery may the sounds create in the listener's mind? To which emotions will these aesthetics be connected? Will the consumer of the music feel that which the composer experiences as the notes are scratched onto staves or into digital recorders?
Reader's comments such as this one justify all of the time and effort poured into the Redline Project. Less than three months ago, music reverberated around my skull. Now it has found a way out, and bounces across oceans to faraway lands. The scope of this project is gargantuan and often overwhelming, but the endeavor continues to pulse tingly electricity through my veins. I have never felt so alive.
Thank you Jan for your steady readership and the time you often take to send a response through the wires. And thank you to a score of others who send notes of affirmation, constructive criticism, and encouragement. You keep my feet moving forward through the murkiest moments of this thick project.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Recording the Rain
Precipitation meandered through metro Atlanta today as it should this time of year. The atmosphere was mostly a haze of clouds and mist punctuated by brief, dramatic startles of cracking thunder and the incessant pounding of voluminous rain. For a handful of magnificent minutes, spiders of lightning fragmented the sky into sharp shards as plinks of hail nipped away at shingles and shutters.
Sprawled on the carpet with mostly shut eyelids, the sounds of the storm whispered calmness to my inmost parts. The symphony of the moment was nothing shy of perfection; how thrilled I was to have the ability to capture the audio and remember the event.
I strung a cable from my mixer to a condenser microphone pressed against the open windowsill, clicked a few buttons in Logic, and let the tape roll.
The storm track carpets some sparse synth music in the scratch recording below. The looped music is on the ambient side, perhaps even a touch dental. If you listen carefully, you may be able to pick out the high-pitched taps of hail at certain points.
Sprawled on the carpet with mostly shut eyelids, the sounds of the storm whispered calmness to my inmost parts. The symphony of the moment was nothing shy of perfection; how thrilled I was to have the ability to capture the audio and remember the event.
I strung a cable from my mixer to a condenser microphone pressed against the open windowsill, clicked a few buttons in Logic, and let the tape roll.
The storm track carpets some sparse synth music in the scratch recording below. The looped music is on the ambient side, perhaps even a touch dental. If you listen carefully, you may be able to pick out the high-pitched taps of hail at certain points.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Twos and Threes
As I launched the evening's foray into the classifications of electronica, one crystal-clear fact emerged: WAY to many sub-genres exist. The next paragraph lists each one as presented by Wikipedia. Please have something better to do with your time than reading through this drivel.
Ambient, Ambient house, Ambient techno, Apres Rave,Dark ambient, Drone music, Psybient, Breakbeat, Baltimore Club, Big beat, Broken beat, Florida breaks, Nu skool breaks, Progressive breaks, Rap, Disco, Cosmic disco, Eurodance, Euro disco, Hi-NRG, Italo dance, Italo disco, Nu, disco, Spacesynth, Downtempo, Acid jazz, Balearic Beat, Chill out, Dub music, Ethnic electronica, Glitch, Illbient, Minimal Electronica, New Age music, Nu jazz, Trip hop, Electronic music, Berlin School, Electroacoustic, Electro, Electro backbeat, Electro-hop, Electro-grime, Freestyle music, Techno bass, Electronica, Electropop, Folktronica, Glitch, IDM, Nu Jazz, Post-disco, Trip hop, (UK) Garage (UKG), 2-step, 4x4, Bassline, Breakstep, Dubstep, Funky, Grime, Speed garage,, Hardcore/Hard dance, Bouncy techno, Breakbeat Hardcore, Breakcore, Darkcore, Digital hardcore, Doomcore, Freeform, Gabber, Happy hardcore, Hardstyle, Jumpstyle, Makina, Noisecore, Speedcore, Terrorcore, UK Hardcore, House, Acid house, Boogie, Bubblegum dance, Chicago house, Crack house, Dark house, Deep house, Disco house, Dream house, Electro house,Euro house, Fidget house, French house, Freestyle house, US garage, Ghetto house, UK Hard house, Hard NRG, Hi-NRG, Hip house, Italo house, Jackin' house, Kwaito, Latin house, Merenhouse, Minimal house/Microhouse, Progressive house, Scouse house, Swing house, Electronica, Tribal house, Tech house, Hi-NRG, Eurobeat, Eurodance, Hard NRG, Italo Disco, Nu-NRG, New Beat, Techno, Industrial, Aggrotech, Ambient industrial, Cybergrind, Dark ambient, Dark electro, Death industrial, Electronic body music, Electro-Industrial, Industrial rock, Industrial metal, Coldwave, Noise, Japanoise, Power noise, Jungle/Drum and bass, Clownstep, Darkcore, Darkstep, Drumfunk, Hardstep, Intelligent drum and bass, Jump-Up, Liquid funk, Neurofunk, Oldschool jungle, Ragga-jungle, Darkside jungle, Raggacore, Sambass, Techstep, Trancestep, Rock/Punk influenced electronic music (Dance-rock), Alternative dance, Coldwave, Cyber metal, Dance-punk, Dark Wave, Digital hardcore, Electroclash, Electro rock, Electropunk, Ethereal Wave, Industrial rock, Industrial metal, New Rave, New Wave, Synthpop, Post-disco, Progressive rock, Synthpunk, Techno, Acid techno, Detroit techno, Free tekno, Ghettotech, Minimal, New beat, Nortec, Schranz / Hardtechno, Tech house, Tech trance, Techno-DNB, Techstep, Yorkshire Techno, Trance, Acid trance, Ambient trance, Classic trance, Dream trance, Euro-trance, Hard trance, Hardstyle, Nu-NRG, Progressive trance, Psychedelic trance/Goa trance, Dark psy, Full on, Nitzhonot, Psyprog, Psybient, Psybreaks, South African psytrance, Suomisaundi, Tech trance, Uplifting trance, Vocal trance, Post-disco, Dance-pop, Boogie, Nu rave, Hardcore breaks, Rave breaks, Jungle techno, Chiptune, 8-bit, Bitpop, Demoscene music, Picopop, Scoobycore, Game Boy music, and Gamewave.
Several of these sub-genres have strikingly similar definitions, with little or no nuance standing them apart. Coming clear is the conclusion that too many artists think (or thought) too highly of their musical compositions, and ridiculous classifications emerged where pieces of music could have tidily nestled into existing categories.
Master percussionist Kinah Boto, who taught me drum set during my masters program at Georgia State University, floored me with a comment he once made. "Music is all about twos and threes, nothing more nothing less."
He is mostly right: I venture a guess that 99% of all music heard in this country has rhythms that can be subdivided into two beats or three beats. Boto's point is that the labels we slap on various musics are mostly worthless. Every piece of music is a purposeful set of sounds, and the sonic characteristics of a composition are unaffected by any terminology pinned to them.
As this week commenced, I was determined to define the major genres of electronica, delving into the idioms and finding my place in them. This has become an overwhelming and pointless proposition; one that has undoubtedly bored most of my readers. You have my apologies along with my word that I shall return to the more gripping autobiographical tales that brought you here in the first place.
This quasi-academic exploration germinated moments after I put the finishing touches on a piece of electronic music for the Redline Project. Pretty well pleased with the result, I wondered how the sounds would stack up against other music in the same genre. It was only natural then to wonder which genre would comfortably hold this music.
My best guess was, and still is, Trance music. Wikipedia claims Trance pieces have the following characteristics: a tempo between 130 and 155 beats per minute, short synthesizer phrases, and a form with dynamics that build and deconstruct throught the piece. Check, check, check.
Settled then; this composition entitled Tremont is a textbook example of Trance music. I am positive that electronica aficionados everywhere would have a bird over this classification. Ahh, the beauty of solo writing an uncontested blog.
Ambient, Ambient house, Ambient techno, Apres Rave,Dark ambient, Drone music, Psybient, Breakbeat, Baltimore Club, Big beat, Broken beat, Florida breaks, Nu skool breaks, Progressive breaks, Rap, Disco, Cosmic disco, Eurodance, Euro disco, Hi-NRG, Italo dance, Italo disco, Nu, disco, Spacesynth, Downtempo, Acid jazz, Balearic Beat, Chill out, Dub music, Ethnic electronica, Glitch, Illbient, Minimal Electronica, New Age music, Nu jazz, Trip hop, Electronic music, Berlin School, Electroacoustic, Electro, Electro backbeat, Electro-hop, Electro-grime, Freestyle music, Techno bass, Electronica, Electropop, Folktronica, Glitch, IDM, Nu Jazz, Post-disco, Trip hop, (UK) Garage (UKG), 2-step, 4x4, Bassline, Breakstep, Dubstep, Funky, Grime, Speed garage,, Hardcore/Hard dance, Bouncy techno, Breakbeat Hardcore, Breakcore, Darkcore, Digital hardcore, Doomcore, Freeform, Gabber, Happy hardcore, Hardstyle, Jumpstyle, Makina, Noisecore, Speedcore, Terrorcore, UK Hardcore, House, Acid house, Boogie, Bubblegum dance, Chicago house, Crack house, Dark house, Deep house, Disco house, Dream house, Electro house,Euro house, Fidget house, French house, Freestyle house, US garage, Ghetto house, UK Hard house, Hard NRG, Hi-NRG, Hip house, Italo house, Jackin' house, Kwaito, Latin house, Merenhouse, Minimal house/Microhouse, Progressive house, Scouse house, Swing house, Electronica, Tribal house, Tech house, Hi-NRG, Eurobeat, Eurodance, Hard NRG, Italo Disco, Nu-NRG, New Beat, Techno, Industrial, Aggrotech, Ambient industrial, Cybergrind, Dark ambient, Dark electro, Death industrial, Electronic body music, Electro-Industrial, Industrial rock, Industrial metal, Coldwave, Noise, Japanoise, Power noise, Jungle/Drum and bass, Clownstep, Darkcore, Darkstep, Drumfunk, Hardstep, Intelligent drum and bass, Jump-Up, Liquid funk, Neurofunk, Oldschool jungle, Ragga-jungle, Darkside jungle, Raggacore, Sambass, Techstep, Trancestep, Rock/Punk influenced electronic music (Dance-rock), Alternative dance, Coldwave, Cyber metal, Dance-punk, Dark Wave, Digital hardcore, Electroclash, Electro rock, Electropunk, Ethereal Wave, Industrial rock, Industrial metal, New Rave, New Wave, Synthpop, Post-disco, Progressive rock, Synthpunk, Techno, Acid techno, Detroit techno, Free tekno, Ghettotech, Minimal, New beat, Nortec, Schranz / Hardtechno, Tech house, Tech trance, Techno-DNB, Techstep, Yorkshire Techno, Trance, Acid trance, Ambient trance, Classic trance, Dream trance, Euro-trance, Hard trance, Hardstyle, Nu-NRG, Progressive trance, Psychedelic trance/Goa trance, Dark psy, Full on, Nitzhonot, Psyprog, Psybient, Psybreaks, South African psytrance, Suomisaundi, Tech trance, Uplifting trance, Vocal trance, Post-disco, Dance-pop, Boogie, Nu rave, Hardcore breaks, Rave breaks, Jungle techno, Chiptune, 8-bit, Bitpop, Demoscene music, Picopop, Scoobycore, Game Boy music, and Gamewave.
Several of these sub-genres have strikingly similar definitions, with little or no nuance standing them apart. Coming clear is the conclusion that too many artists think (or thought) too highly of their musical compositions, and ridiculous classifications emerged where pieces of music could have tidily nestled into existing categories.
Master percussionist Kinah Boto, who taught me drum set during my masters program at Georgia State University, floored me with a comment he once made. "Music is all about twos and threes, nothing more nothing less."
He is mostly right: I venture a guess that 99% of all music heard in this country has rhythms that can be subdivided into two beats or three beats. Boto's point is that the labels we slap on various musics are mostly worthless. Every piece of music is a purposeful set of sounds, and the sonic characteristics of a composition are unaffected by any terminology pinned to them.
As this week commenced, I was determined to define the major genres of electronica, delving into the idioms and finding my place in them. This has become an overwhelming and pointless proposition; one that has undoubtedly bored most of my readers. You have my apologies along with my word that I shall return to the more gripping autobiographical tales that brought you here in the first place.
This quasi-academic exploration germinated moments after I put the finishing touches on a piece of electronic music for the Redline Project. Pretty well pleased with the result, I wondered how the sounds would stack up against other music in the same genre. It was only natural then to wonder which genre would comfortably hold this music.
My best guess was, and still is, Trance music. Wikipedia claims Trance pieces have the following characteristics: a tempo between 130 and 155 beats per minute, short synthesizer phrases, and a form with dynamics that build and deconstruct throught the piece. Check, check, check.
Settled then; this composition entitled Tremont is a textbook example of Trance music. I am positive that electronica aficionados everywhere would have a bird over this classification. Ahh, the beauty of solo writing an uncontested blog.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Bit of a Trance
I have no idea if the music I am sculpting tonight qualifies as actual Trance music, but its mesmerizing groove has all but hypnotized me. I intended to compose this cocktail for an hour and chase it with an hour of blogging. Both time slots are long gone and a few extra slid by with them. Woopsie daisy.
The bell tolls midnight, and my fluffy bed is looking mighty fine at this moment. Tomorrow I shall post definitions for the many sub-genres of electronica here, or at least as many as I can scrounge up. I look forward to seeing if my composition in progress actually qualifies as Trance music, or if it simply has that effect on my mind.
The bell tolls midnight, and my fluffy bed is looking mighty fine at this moment. Tomorrow I shall post definitions for the many sub-genres of electronica here, or at least as many as I can scrounge up. I look forward to seeing if my composition in progress actually qualifies as Trance music, or if it simply has that effect on my mind.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Oscillation
The material you are about to read joins yesterday's post as a half-witted excuse for a research paper. I am flying solo with Wikipedia, so be warned.
A fellow by the name of Elisha Gray, who is credited with the invention of a telephone prototype, apparently crafted the first synthesizer of sound in 1876. I will venture a guess that the instrument was neither appealing in the tones it produced nor ever commercially produced. I have nothing to base this upon, except for the seeming lack of information regarding its whereabouts.
An equally unsuccessful venture was the Hammond Novatron, produced by the Hammond Company in the 1930s and 40s. Hammond would later produce the B3, which is still widely esteemed as the holy grail of jazz organs. The Novatron failed to win the affections of music experimenters, and it is now relegated to short, under-thought paragraphs such as this.
It was not until the 1960s that the synthesizer earned a date with destiny. Robert Moog's synthesizer, cleverly named Moog, spread onto pop albums like syphilis.
The Moog is an instrument near to my heart. Though I have never touched one, Jan Hammer did during his tenure as the keyboard player in the Mahavishnu Orchestra, a favorite band of mine during the formative high school years. Led by guitarist John McLaughlin, the virtuosic band set the standard for fusing rock music with Indian rhythms and melodies. I owned all of their albums, most of which were original vinyl pressings, and I wore them out.
A woman by the name of Wendy Carlos recorded an album of the Brandenburg Concerti using Moog synthesizers. It is a famous recording, and my parents even owned it when I was a child. I must confess that even though I admire the experiment, I hate the resulting sound. Wendy Carlos was formerly known as Walter Carlos because she used to be a man. It is not relevant; I'm just mentioning.
The synthesizer may have earned its stripes in the 1960s, but the 70s ushered in its heydey. Producing the famed soundtrack for the film Chariots of Fire, Vangelis used only synthesizers to craft the iconic compositions heard therein. Genres of music started to unfold with aesthetics rooted in synthesized sound. Movements such as New Wave and Synthpop emerged as bright, sparkly alternatives to the rough, live sound so popular the decade before.
New Wave is considered to be a genre of music similar to Punk Rock that employs a more experimental, electronic approach. Nothing more than a sub-genre, Synthpop is a form of new wave composed almost exclusively with synthesized sounds.
Yesterday and today serve as the preface for the meat of this discussion, which is slated to appear here tomorrow. Join me then for an exploration of current sub-genres of music under the umbrella of electronica, all grossly under-researched as well.
A fellow by the name of Elisha Gray, who is credited with the invention of a telephone prototype, apparently crafted the first synthesizer of sound in 1876. I will venture a guess that the instrument was neither appealing in the tones it produced nor ever commercially produced. I have nothing to base this upon, except for the seeming lack of information regarding its whereabouts.
An equally unsuccessful venture was the Hammond Novatron, produced by the Hammond Company in the 1930s and 40s. Hammond would later produce the B3, which is still widely esteemed as the holy grail of jazz organs. The Novatron failed to win the affections of music experimenters, and it is now relegated to short, under-thought paragraphs such as this.
It was not until the 1960s that the synthesizer earned a date with destiny. Robert Moog's synthesizer, cleverly named Moog, spread onto pop albums like syphilis.
The Moog is an instrument near to my heart. Though I have never touched one, Jan Hammer did during his tenure as the keyboard player in the Mahavishnu Orchestra, a favorite band of mine during the formative high school years. Led by guitarist John McLaughlin, the virtuosic band set the standard for fusing rock music with Indian rhythms and melodies. I owned all of their albums, most of which were original vinyl pressings, and I wore them out.
A woman by the name of Wendy Carlos recorded an album of the Brandenburg Concerti using Moog synthesizers. It is a famous recording, and my parents even owned it when I was a child. I must confess that even though I admire the experiment, I hate the resulting sound. Wendy Carlos was formerly known as Walter Carlos because she used to be a man. It is not relevant; I'm just mentioning.
The synthesizer may have earned its stripes in the 1960s, but the 70s ushered in its heydey. Producing the famed soundtrack for the film Chariots of Fire, Vangelis used only synthesizers to craft the iconic compositions heard therein. Genres of music started to unfold with aesthetics rooted in synthesized sound. Movements such as New Wave and Synthpop emerged as bright, sparkly alternatives to the rough, live sound so popular the decade before.
New Wave is considered to be a genre of music similar to Punk Rock that employs a more experimental, electronic approach. Nothing more than a sub-genre, Synthpop is a form of new wave composed almost exclusively with synthesized sounds.
Yesterday and today serve as the preface for the meat of this discussion, which is slated to appear here tomorrow. Join me then for an exploration of current sub-genres of music under the umbrella of electronica, all grossly under-researched as well.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Intonarumori
Everyone knows they can trust the internet as a source of information, right? I am working a full time job, developing a non-profit, chiseling away at a 365 day music project, and adopting a son. There is no time for actual research, so good-old Google and Wikipedia will have to do. Trust at your own risk.
I am knee-deep in the muck of electronica this week as I piece together an exotic trance composition that may just squeeze its way onto the final recording of the Redline Project. As I massage the textures into coherence, working and reworking over and again, a fascination with this new array of sonic possibilities is taking hold of me. I am also gripped by utter lack of knowledge about this genre.
The goal of this post and others to follow is to snag snippets of mostly-true information from potentially unreliable sources and garner a shred of knowledge. The topic of my exploration: electronic music.
When I studied the western tradition of music history, page one of chapter one transported me to the era of Gregorian Chant, about 800 years ago. Compared to the likes of dinosaurs and wooly mammoths, the history of music (as Europeans and Americans know it) is all relatively new. Reason declares electronic music a mere baby then, since the advent of harnessing watts did not come along until 1752 when Ben Franklin flew his kite into the sky on a less-than-clear day.
A cross-breed of mad scientist and musician began to emerge in Italy during the early part of the 20th century. This experimental group of artists called themselves Futurists. One such loon named Luigi Russolo assembled devices he referred to as Intonarumori, or noise machines. In his own words, these aural contraptions were "acoustical noise-instruments, whose sounds (howls, roars, shuffles, gurgles, etc.) were hand-activated and projected by horns and megaphones."
Stop right there. We have a gathering of fellows in Italy around 100 years ago who focused their life work on producing concerts of noise. My best guess is that their elevators failed to visit the top floor. Hail the Futurists - these are my kind of folks.
The first instruments with sound produced purely from electricity were invented during the 1920s and 1930s. Devices such as the Etherophone (also known as the Theremin) debuted on stage of symphonies in novelty pieces composed for orchestra and electronic instruments. 1929 saw the founding of Laurens Hammond's electronic instrument company, which would later go on to produce the iconic Hammond B3 organ.
Though these rumblings of electronic sound were a far cry from the thumping synth-driven club music made popular in the 1980s, this collection of early forays begged deeper explorations of sonic possibilities that would carpet the continents with new music in under 50 years. Electronica is brand new but has spread like wildfire.
This highly-paraphrased synopsis was produced using the single source of Wikipedia. My middle school teachers, and probably my mother, would be horrified. Tune in this time tomorrow for a loosely factual pontification about the invention of synthesized sound.
I am knee-deep in the muck of electronica this week as I piece together an exotic trance composition that may just squeeze its way onto the final recording of the Redline Project. As I massage the textures into coherence, working and reworking over and again, a fascination with this new array of sonic possibilities is taking hold of me. I am also gripped by utter lack of knowledge about this genre.
The goal of this post and others to follow is to snag snippets of mostly-true information from potentially unreliable sources and garner a shred of knowledge. The topic of my exploration: electronic music.
When I studied the western tradition of music history, page one of chapter one transported me to the era of Gregorian Chant, about 800 years ago. Compared to the likes of dinosaurs and wooly mammoths, the history of music (as Europeans and Americans know it) is all relatively new. Reason declares electronic music a mere baby then, since the advent of harnessing watts did not come along until 1752 when Ben Franklin flew his kite into the sky on a less-than-clear day.
A cross-breed of mad scientist and musician began to emerge in Italy during the early part of the 20th century. This experimental group of artists called themselves Futurists. One such loon named Luigi Russolo assembled devices he referred to as Intonarumori, or noise machines. In his own words, these aural contraptions were "acoustical noise-instruments, whose sounds (howls, roars, shuffles, gurgles, etc.) were hand-activated and projected by horns and megaphones."
Stop right there. We have a gathering of fellows in Italy around 100 years ago who focused their life work on producing concerts of noise. My best guess is that their elevators failed to visit the top floor. Hail the Futurists - these are my kind of folks.
The first instruments with sound produced purely from electricity were invented during the 1920s and 1930s. Devices such as the Etherophone (also known as the Theremin) debuted on stage of symphonies in novelty pieces composed for orchestra and electronic instruments. 1929 saw the founding of Laurens Hammond's electronic instrument company, which would later go on to produce the iconic Hammond B3 organ.
Though these rumblings of electronic sound were a far cry from the thumping synth-driven club music made popular in the 1980s, this collection of early forays begged deeper explorations of sonic possibilities that would carpet the continents with new music in under 50 years. Electronica is brand new but has spread like wildfire.
This highly-paraphrased synopsis was produced using the single source of Wikipedia. My middle school teachers, and probably my mother, would be horrified. Tune in this time tomorrow for a loosely factual pontification about the invention of synthesized sound.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Jack Shivers
Around three weeks ago, someone broke into the Communicycle Co-op and stole all of our tools. Our shop is located in a ministry center where a couple of churches and other groups meet, and several of these spaces were robbed on subsequent days. Eventually the man taking from the building was caught and has found himself locked behind steel bars.
Without tools at the shop, we have been spending time with the youth participants in other ways. Tonight, we brought them all to the building's concrete basketball court, where we enjoyed a crisp spring evening shooting hoops.
One fellow became bored and started rummaging around near the building's dumpster where a miscellany of discarded construction supplies were stacked in messy piles. He returned to the concrete slab a few minutes later announcing that he found a really cool sweater that he intended to keep.
My heart sank when I saw the garment in his hands, because it was a sweater that once belonged to me. In a flash, I was transported back to a January night of record cold when a man named Jack found his way into the shop. He was looking for coffee and a place to get warm as his makeshift home behind our building offered zero protection from the freeze.
I had nothing to offer him that night except for the thin blue sweater I was wearing. I shook it gently in front of him in insistence that he accept what little warmth it might offer. After we switched the lights off and locked the door, I shuffled around town gathering sweaters and blankets from my closet, a roast beef sub from the deli, and a tall cup of joe from the convenience mart.
As I returned to the Communicycle lot, Jack's tall silhouette appeared in the shadow of my high beams. I handed the humble gifts to him, praying that he would find the warmth to make his way through the frosty night. How crestfallen I was to learn that Jack returned to the Communicycle shop a few days later, shattering glass to enter and departing with handfuls of community-owned tools and supplies.
I never anticipated laying eyes on my blue, striped sweater again, but there it was tonight, tossed aside and dusted with fragments of last autumn's brittle leaves. I felt equally discarded by the unwelcome discovery, and anger began bubbling into my throat.
My emotions would have remained through the night had it not been for the marvelous Communicycle youth. These friends rallied around me as I told them the story, sympathetically resonating with my discomfort and frustration. I am watching these teens take ownership and pride in the program we are building together, and I could not be more elated at their sense of investment.
What do these meandering paragraphs have to do with the Redline Project, or with music of any form? Everything, really.
I drove home that frigid January evening through sheets of blurry tears, and not knowing how else to process the pains and injustice unfolding before my eyes, I grabbed a pen and scratched some lyrics onto a blank journal page. I have much to consider now about the direction this song should head. Initially it was a song of observations and simple lines that stated my confusion from a disconnected stance. The subject matter has since become deeply personal, and I am more a part of the story than I ever anticipated or wished to be.
Where to go from here? I don't know.
Jack Shivers
Jack shivers in the frigid night
Blue sweater, he is not all right
Black coffee, awake till dawn
Not alive, but not quite gone
Without tools at the shop, we have been spending time with the youth participants in other ways. Tonight, we brought them all to the building's concrete basketball court, where we enjoyed a crisp spring evening shooting hoops.
One fellow became bored and started rummaging around near the building's dumpster where a miscellany of discarded construction supplies were stacked in messy piles. He returned to the concrete slab a few minutes later announcing that he found a really cool sweater that he intended to keep.
My heart sank when I saw the garment in his hands, because it was a sweater that once belonged to me. In a flash, I was transported back to a January night of record cold when a man named Jack found his way into the shop. He was looking for coffee and a place to get warm as his makeshift home behind our building offered zero protection from the freeze.
I had nothing to offer him that night except for the thin blue sweater I was wearing. I shook it gently in front of him in insistence that he accept what little warmth it might offer. After we switched the lights off and locked the door, I shuffled around town gathering sweaters and blankets from my closet, a roast beef sub from the deli, and a tall cup of joe from the convenience mart.
As I returned to the Communicycle lot, Jack's tall silhouette appeared in the shadow of my high beams. I handed the humble gifts to him, praying that he would find the warmth to make his way through the frosty night. How crestfallen I was to learn that Jack returned to the Communicycle shop a few days later, shattering glass to enter and departing with handfuls of community-owned tools and supplies.
I never anticipated laying eyes on my blue, striped sweater again, but there it was tonight, tossed aside and dusted with fragments of last autumn's brittle leaves. I felt equally discarded by the unwelcome discovery, and anger began bubbling into my throat.
My emotions would have remained through the night had it not been for the marvelous Communicycle youth. These friends rallied around me as I told them the story, sympathetically resonating with my discomfort and frustration. I am watching these teens take ownership and pride in the program we are building together, and I could not be more elated at their sense of investment.
What do these meandering paragraphs have to do with the Redline Project, or with music of any form? Everything, really.
I drove home that frigid January evening through sheets of blurry tears, and not knowing how else to process the pains and injustice unfolding before my eyes, I grabbed a pen and scratched some lyrics onto a blank journal page. I have much to consider now about the direction this song should head. Initially it was a song of observations and simple lines that stated my confusion from a disconnected stance. The subject matter has since become deeply personal, and I am more a part of the story than I ever anticipated or wished to be.
Where to go from here? I don't know.
Jack Shivers
Jack shivers in the frigid night
Blue sweater, he is not all right
Black coffee, awake till dawn
Not alive, but not quite gone
Monday, March 15, 2010
A Magnificent Dilemma
Though the Redline Project blog is not a venue for my personal life, I can not help but exclaim the marvels of what started as an ordinary day.
My wife and I have been working and waiting for two and a half years to receive word from South Korea that they had a child for our family. We were expecting to hear news to this effect months ago, but week after week slid by in silence.
What commenced as an average Monday morphed into a prodigious milestone with a simple phone call. In a matter of three or four months, my wife and I will travel to Seoul to become a family of three. Cheers!
For the record, we are welcoming a marvelous boy of six months with an open face, midnight eyes, and a smile that sends laughter bouncing around the room. I have only laid eyes on a handful of photographs and already I am madly in love.
Of course, this poses a rack of hurdles for the Redline Project. As an active father of none, I am free to scamper after the muse until all hours. What is to become of this humble venture as I step up to the calling of fatherhood?
Good question. I don't know.
Perhaps the whole thing will come tumbling down leaving only plumes of failure in its wake. Maybe the goals perched atop this page will join the ranks of all that remains unaccomplished in my life. The Redline Project finds itself at a definitive fulcrum. From here, I either ramp up the effort or throw in the towel.
With a handful of months standing in the gap between the day my son finally comes home and today, I choose to put my feet to the fire. The goal of making a releasable album of music pulses liquid life through my veins, and giving up would be nothing short of tragic. I shall continue, and the music shall be heard.
My wife and I have been working and waiting for two and a half years to receive word from South Korea that they had a child for our family. We were expecting to hear news to this effect months ago, but week after week slid by in silence.
What commenced as an average Monday morphed into a prodigious milestone with a simple phone call. In a matter of three or four months, my wife and I will travel to Seoul to become a family of three. Cheers!
For the record, we are welcoming a marvelous boy of six months with an open face, midnight eyes, and a smile that sends laughter bouncing around the room. I have only laid eyes on a handful of photographs and already I am madly in love.
Of course, this poses a rack of hurdles for the Redline Project. As an active father of none, I am free to scamper after the muse until all hours. What is to become of this humble venture as I step up to the calling of fatherhood?
Good question. I don't know.
Perhaps the whole thing will come tumbling down leaving only plumes of failure in its wake. Maybe the goals perched atop this page will join the ranks of all that remains unaccomplished in my life. The Redline Project finds itself at a definitive fulcrum. From here, I either ramp up the effort or throw in the towel.
With a handful of months standing in the gap between the day my son finally comes home and today, I choose to put my feet to the fire. The goal of making a releasable album of music pulses liquid life through my veins, and giving up would be nothing short of tragic. I shall continue, and the music shall be heard.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Intuitions and Ignorance
After an unbelievably drawn-out meeting that monopolized most of yesterday, I decided to unwind by throwing together a little groove. In less than ten minutes, I had some intriguing bits of electronica tracked into in Logic. I tossed some synth pads in the pot along with a dash of electric guitar long-tones.
To my ears, this ditty is a simple but addictive recipe that keeps me wanting another bite. The issue is that I have no actual awareness of what to call this music, or what elements it needs to take it to the next level.
In the realm of electronica, there are labels like Techno, Trance, House, Hip-Hop, and Club, each of which is defined any number of ways by a plethora of unofficial websites. Complicating the conundrum is the endless love-child spin-offs that result from the blurred lines between the vague genres. We have Trance-hop, Trip-hop, Techno House, and so on.
My training in classical and jazz music has not exactly encouraged a working knowledge of electronic music. Though I am lost in terminology and clueless of how to construct convincing tracks, I am excited that the Redline Project, and its resulting collection of hardware and software, has cracked open the door to a new universe of music.
Electronica is a realm to which I once turned up my nose. In downright snobbiness, I considered sonics produced with computers and synths to be a cheap knock-off of actual musicianship. As I commence exploration of this infinite array of possibilities, I quickly realize my opinions were formed in ignorance.
This week, I am going learn as much as I can about the evolution and nomenclature of electronic music, posting my findings on this blog. If any readers want to offer information (favorite electronic music artists, historical resources, genre classifications), please send it over.
To my ears, this ditty is a simple but addictive recipe that keeps me wanting another bite. The issue is that I have no actual awareness of what to call this music, or what elements it needs to take it to the next level.
In the realm of electronica, there are labels like Techno, Trance, House, Hip-Hop, and Club, each of which is defined any number of ways by a plethora of unofficial websites. Complicating the conundrum is the endless love-child spin-offs that result from the blurred lines between the vague genres. We have Trance-hop, Trip-hop, Techno House, and so on.
My training in classical and jazz music has not exactly encouraged a working knowledge of electronic music. Though I am lost in terminology and clueless of how to construct convincing tracks, I am excited that the Redline Project, and its resulting collection of hardware and software, has cracked open the door to a new universe of music.
Electronica is a realm to which I once turned up my nose. In downright snobbiness, I considered sonics produced with computers and synths to be a cheap knock-off of actual musicianship. As I commence exploration of this infinite array of possibilities, I quickly realize my opinions were formed in ignorance.
This week, I am going learn as much as I can about the evolution and nomenclature of electronic music, posting my findings on this blog. If any readers want to offer information (favorite electronic music artists, historical resources, genre classifications), please send it over.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Massive Milestone
What would probably be a measly accomplishment for most professional recording artists feels downright monumental to me. This morning at 11:00 am, I wrapped up a preliminary song track for the Redline Project final recording.
Is the song actually finished and ready for mastering? Hopefully not. I intend to learn a massive amount between now and the album's final mixdown, and I anticipate looking back at this track with loathing at some point during the project's course.
So why the jubilee? This first complete track represents what I once considered all but impossible. A mere three months ago, I hadn't the vaguest sense of how to get the music of my imagination into listenable form. As I type today, I am hearing the tangible decibels of a song I wrote and recorded. Each instrument (about 15 total) heard is something I played, and the vocals, though heavily edited, are mine too. What a buzz.
The complete song is called Barefoot Commons. Its story portrays a girl and a boy from dramatically different backgrounds who discover equally intense pains and joys in life. Here is a selection of phrases:
Little black boy from Roxbury Station
Little white girl from the highrise on the hill
Black hand, white hand, gripping each other
Fifteen miles, a world apart
Drink the moment at the barefoot Commons
For complete lyrics, click here.
The song's characters are children from the city of Boston. Beyond the traditional instruments utilized in the recording, I selected sonics that reflect the playfulness of childhood and speak of the urban setting, including the percussive banging of kitchen pans and a carefully-placed elevator bell sound.
Any elation I feel in this moment is met with great trepidation as I consider my next steps. If I am to accomplish the release of a full-length album, I will have to walk this winding road at least a dozen more times during the next six months. This seems a good thought for tomorrow; today I shall bask in the bliss of this small but significant step.
Is the song actually finished and ready for mastering? Hopefully not. I intend to learn a massive amount between now and the album's final mixdown, and I anticipate looking back at this track with loathing at some point during the project's course.
So why the jubilee? This first complete track represents what I once considered all but impossible. A mere three months ago, I hadn't the vaguest sense of how to get the music of my imagination into listenable form. As I type today, I am hearing the tangible decibels of a song I wrote and recorded. Each instrument (about 15 total) heard is something I played, and the vocals, though heavily edited, are mine too. What a buzz.
The complete song is called Barefoot Commons. Its story portrays a girl and a boy from dramatically different backgrounds who discover equally intense pains and joys in life. Here is a selection of phrases:
Little black boy from Roxbury Station
Little white girl from the highrise on the hill
Black hand, white hand, gripping each other
Fifteen miles, a world apart
Drink the moment at the barefoot Commons
For complete lyrics, click here.
The song's characters are children from the city of Boston. Beyond the traditional instruments utilized in the recording, I selected sonics that reflect the playfulness of childhood and speak of the urban setting, including the percussive banging of kitchen pans and a carefully-placed elevator bell sound.
Any elation I feel in this moment is met with great trepidation as I consider my next steps. If I am to accomplish the release of a full-length album, I will have to walk this winding road at least a dozen more times during the next six months. This seems a good thought for tomorrow; today I shall bask in the bliss of this small but significant step.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Silver Bullet
I will skip the story of how our neighborhood postal worker did not bother to ring my bell yesterday. I won't mention that I was home the entire time. I'll leave out the details about having to wait nearly an hour at our dysfunctional post office just to pick up the package he should have handed to me in all of five seconds. Instead of telling the world what a zoo this government institution is and what a strong resemblance its excuses for employees have to molasses, I will take the high road and bite my tongue.
The diamond in all this rough is more of a silver bullet. I am pleased to announce that as of four o'clock this afternoon, the Celemony Melodyne Editor software has dug its digital footprint into my iMac's hard disk. A longer review is in order and will be posted soon. At a glance, Melodyne is a powerful, intuitive engine that transforms impotent, scrawny vocals into solid sound perched squarely on tonal centers. Unlike other plug-ins like Autotune, Melodyne maintains a much more natural sound. I have the giggles over this.
In the quick scratch recording below, you will here two instances of the same recording. There are no effects applied other than the Melodyne Editor, and it is only utilized in the second half. The latter portion was adjusted in a matter of minutes with a handful of mouse clicks.
I spent most of the evening tweaking a melody for the actual Redline Project recording, and for once I actually like how my (altered) voice sounds. Though I am tempted to post that song here, it is going to stay in the vault until the final project is released.
The diamond in all this rough is more of a silver bullet. I am pleased to announce that as of four o'clock this afternoon, the Celemony Melodyne Editor software has dug its digital footprint into my iMac's hard disk. A longer review is in order and will be posted soon. At a glance, Melodyne is a powerful, intuitive engine that transforms impotent, scrawny vocals into solid sound perched squarely on tonal centers. Unlike other plug-ins like Autotune, Melodyne maintains a much more natural sound. I have the giggles over this.
In the quick scratch recording below, you will here two instances of the same recording. There are no effects applied other than the Melodyne Editor, and it is only utilized in the second half. The latter portion was adjusted in a matter of minutes with a handful of mouse clicks.
I spent most of the evening tweaking a melody for the actual Redline Project recording, and for once I actually like how my (altered) voice sounds. Though I am tempted to post that song here, it is going to stay in the vault until the final project is released.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Fleabay
I have accomplished an important Redline Project task this evening that has nothing to do with music. Over the past weeks, I have racked up a bit of debt as I purchased the Melodyne editing plug-in for $200 and the upgrade to Logic Pro (from Logic Express) for $115.
If you know anything about either software, you know that both prices are at great savings off retail list. Still, this is a chunk of expense considering the entire project budget is an even grand.
Regular readers know that I am trying to scrounge the 1,000 big ones by selling off possessions. My goal is to leave the old savings account undisturbed. Mostly a success thus far, I reached for the plastic as I succumbed to both deals.
I am determined to pay myself back in full by unloading an unwanted miscellany of bicycle gear and other bric-a-brac. I dedicated the past three hours to photographing a pile of junk from the bike closet and posting it up on the world's favorite used-item free-for-all, eBay.
Should the auctions end near the fair-market value of each tchotchke, ample money to replenish my recent withdrawals should plop into my Paypal account. I will inform you of my success or lack thereof at the time of my listings' deadlines - seven days from today.
If you know anything about either software, you know that both prices are at great savings off retail list. Still, this is a chunk of expense considering the entire project budget is an even grand.
Regular readers know that I am trying to scrounge the 1,000 big ones by selling off possessions. My goal is to leave the old savings account undisturbed. Mostly a success thus far, I reached for the plastic as I succumbed to both deals.
I am determined to pay myself back in full by unloading an unwanted miscellany of bicycle gear and other bric-a-brac. I dedicated the past three hours to photographing a pile of junk from the bike closet and posting it up on the world's favorite used-item free-for-all, eBay.
Should the auctions end near the fair-market value of each tchotchke, ample money to replenish my recent withdrawals should plop into my Paypal account. I will inform you of my success or lack thereof at the time of my listings' deadlines - seven days from today.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Long Overdue
From the earliest days of the Redline Project, Found Sound has been an important concept. Decibels can be heard in the 'Scratch Recordings' column that emanated from cups of water, canned vegetables, U.S. currency, a nose-hair trimmer, paper tearing, and even the flush of a porcelain bowl.
It is hard to believe I made it this far into the project without laying down some good old pots and pans for a percussion fest. When I was in fifth grade and wanting desperately to own a drum set, my room was always littered with metal implements from the kitchen. It was these bang-a-thons (along with a few other circumstances) that finally caved my parents' wills to keep drums out of the house and out of my life.
During this fertile time of musical development, these were the sounds I was hearing and creating. Tonight's exploration was a throwback to the artistic explorations of my teenaged self that put a bounce in my step.
I rummaged through the cupboards tonight and found a few items with sonic possibilities. The sounds paired with a delicious riveted cymbal like bordeaux and brie. I hope you enjoy the quick scratch recording posted below.
Something about the Redline Project makes me feel like I am 12 again. Maybe this is inspired by rapping on items that clearly are not drums, or perhaps because I have shirked laundry duty for days in favor of working out some tunes.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Petite Rant
Though I have sifted through countless online forums and tried a dozen remedies, my Alesis Multimix 12 (a firewire mixer) continues to make a horrid low-pitched hum whenever I attempt to record my Guild acoustic electric guitar through it. I have checked for ground loops and acquired noise-cancelling direct boxes. I have attempted to ground the unit by running wires from its chassis to the base of my computer, around my pinky finger, and even down my pants (long story). All solutions reduce some unwanted sound, but I am yet to hit upon the silver bullet.
I finally rang Alesis tech support this morning, figuring they have heard the gripe before. After running me through ten ideas I tried weeks ago, I hung the phone on its cradle and found myself wishing there was hair atop my bald head so I could pull it out in frustration.
How can company after company, with precious few exceptions, possess such thorough ineptitude in troubleshooting their own products? I would put serious cash on the line that my call was not the first of its topic to ring at the help desk. Just once, I would like to dial an 888 number to find a friendly, knowledgeable person on the other end who solves my issue in ten minutes or less. Sounds like a frosty day in the underworld.
There. Rant over.
Considering that I use precisely one of the strips in this 12 input mixer, I have started to research much simpler interfaces that would enable great sound and ease of use in one portable box. Across the board, the Apogee One and the Apogee Duet seem to take the cake. Their prices are on the steep side, so I am hoping to trade the Multimix to someone who has an Apogee product. Until then I will plug along with the Alesis box and clean noise fragments with Logic's host of powerful plug-ins.
I finally rang Alesis tech support this morning, figuring they have heard the gripe before. After running me through ten ideas I tried weeks ago, I hung the phone on its cradle and found myself wishing there was hair atop my bald head so I could pull it out in frustration.
How can company after company, with precious few exceptions, possess such thorough ineptitude in troubleshooting their own products? I would put serious cash on the line that my call was not the first of its topic to ring at the help desk. Just once, I would like to dial an 888 number to find a friendly, knowledgeable person on the other end who solves my issue in ten minutes or less. Sounds like a frosty day in the underworld.
There. Rant over.
Considering that I use precisely one of the strips in this 12 input mixer, I have started to research much simpler interfaces that would enable great sound and ease of use in one portable box. Across the board, the Apogee One and the Apogee Duet seem to take the cake. Their prices are on the steep side, so I am hoping to trade the Multimix to someone who has an Apogee product. Until then I will plug along with the Alesis box and clean noise fragments with Logic's host of powerful plug-ins.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Web Spinning
Emails about the Redline Project have been rolling in from the second degree of separation. As this experiment rolls along, I must tip my hat to the wily wordsmith(s) that furnished the internet with a pet name of 'world wide web.' Since the premise of this project appeared in article form on the Gordon College blog, I have receive word from several old friends that they reposted the article or tacked up a link to their Facebook pages, Google accounts, and Twitter feeds in support of this effort.
It is a painless 30 second proposition to post a link on such social networking sites, and doing so yields marvelous results. I am tickled silly that friends of friends have started to connect with the goals of the Redline Project and its greater purpose of encouraging like-minded artists of all genres.
Jon, my college roommate during freshman year with whom I have not communicated for a decade, dropped me a line. Here's an excerpt:
I have been reading through your blog. It is awesome. I am rooting for you and will pass your information along to eveyone I know. I wish we lived closer together. I just built a mini recording studio in my church (at my expense so the equipment is mine). I would have loved to work on this with you. I am learning as I go too, it is fun and so frustrating all at once.
Agreed, roomie. So much about the process of recording music surges pure excitement through my veins. Every success comes after a bouquet of dead ends, which have a way of poking my most sensitive nerves. As Dr. Greene would often encourage, let's keep our feet to the fire and press on.
Jon did as he said he would, linking his Facebook page to the Redline Project. One of his friends bit the hook and navigated his way over for a gander. He took the time to write as well. The note sent was a precious gift; I hope you enjoy this excerpt.
What you had to say [in the blog] was so encouraging to me. I am a musician as well and am pretty much in the same boat you were/are in with regards to having such an unquenchable passion to create great music for others to benefit from, but for the past several years, have pretty much just worked in different office jobs. But I'll end up creating music in my head while I'm at the office and then go home and try to recreate it all on my guitar. I'm constantly hitting upon subject matter in life that needs to be put into song in new and fresh ways.
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that you and I are a lot alike. I'm 29 years old, married, and my wife and I are expecting our first child through the process of adoption. We live in inner city Philadelphia. I was seriously bummed when I read that you live in Atlanta because I have been searching for years for a musical partner, someone who shares the undying need to let the music bleed out, not for money or fame, but to fulfill what is so naturally ingrained in my being for the benefit of others. I've written several songs myself but always feel so much more creative when collaborating with others. I've played in a number of bands since my teens, with a bunch of talented people, but have not yet met that kindred spirit with whom to write, record, and perform the music that I still have yet to truly let out of myself.
This blog details my personal journey from the land of the daily grind back back to the world of music. Its deeper and perhaps more important purpose is to encourage artists camouflaged as insurance salespeople, accountants, construction workers, and the like to return to their creative bents with vigor and courage. I believe concerted effort will lead me back to music, and I am confident my readers could all make the choice to do the same. If you find yourself on the brink of creative expression but are waiting for a little motivation, consider this blog a digital fire under your seat.
If anyone is interested in making my day and giving the Redline Project a bump in the right direction, please take 30 seconds to pin a link on your digital walls. Do not underestimate how great a help this is, and know you have my sincere gratitude.
I sliced my left index finger on an open can of soup during today's lunchtime. This means no guitar for at least a couple of days, but I promise productivity in the composing and arranging departments.
It is a painless 30 second proposition to post a link on such social networking sites, and doing so yields marvelous results. I am tickled silly that friends of friends have started to connect with the goals of the Redline Project and its greater purpose of encouraging like-minded artists of all genres.
Jon, my college roommate during freshman year with whom I have not communicated for a decade, dropped me a line. Here's an excerpt:
I have been reading through your blog. It is awesome. I am rooting for you and will pass your information along to eveyone I know. I wish we lived closer together. I just built a mini recording studio in my church (at my expense so the equipment is mine). I would have loved to work on this with you. I am learning as I go too, it is fun and so frustrating all at once.
Agreed, roomie. So much about the process of recording music surges pure excitement through my veins. Every success comes after a bouquet of dead ends, which have a way of poking my most sensitive nerves. As Dr. Greene would often encourage, let's keep our feet to the fire and press on.
Jon did as he said he would, linking his Facebook page to the Redline Project. One of his friends bit the hook and navigated his way over for a gander. He took the time to write as well. The note sent was a precious gift; I hope you enjoy this excerpt.
What you had to say [in the blog] was so encouraging to me. I am a musician as well and am pretty much in the same boat you were/are in with regards to having such an unquenchable passion to create great music for others to benefit from, but for the past several years, have pretty much just worked in different office jobs. But I'll end up creating music in my head while I'm at the office and then go home and try to recreate it all on my guitar. I'm constantly hitting upon subject matter in life that needs to be put into song in new and fresh ways.
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that you and I are a lot alike. I'm 29 years old, married, and my wife and I are expecting our first child through the process of adoption. We live in inner city Philadelphia. I was seriously bummed when I read that you live in Atlanta because I have been searching for years for a musical partner, someone who shares the undying need to let the music bleed out, not for money or fame, but to fulfill what is so naturally ingrained in my being for the benefit of others. I've written several songs myself but always feel so much more creative when collaborating with others. I've played in a number of bands since my teens, with a bunch of talented people, but have not yet met that kindred spirit with whom to write, record, and perform the music that I still have yet to truly let out of myself.
This blog details my personal journey from the land of the daily grind back back to the world of music. Its deeper and perhaps more important purpose is to encourage artists camouflaged as insurance salespeople, accountants, construction workers, and the like to return to their creative bents with vigor and courage. I believe concerted effort will lead me back to music, and I am confident my readers could all make the choice to do the same. If you find yourself on the brink of creative expression but are waiting for a little motivation, consider this blog a digital fire under your seat.
If anyone is interested in making my day and giving the Redline Project a bump in the right direction, please take 30 seconds to pin a link on your digital walls. Do not underestimate how great a help this is, and know you have my sincere gratitude.
I sliced my left index finger on an open can of soup during today's lunchtime. This means no guitar for at least a couple of days, but I promise productivity in the composing and arranging departments.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Song Solution
Yesterday's post included a verse and a chorus of what I hoped would develop into song. The lines painted a descriptive backdrop for a story about two kids living in different worlds. I was puzzled about how, or even if, the plot should unfold, and I stalled out as I attempted to compose the following verses.
24 hours ago these few lines resembled little more than a haiku; today these ideas have taken shape and are singable from beginning to end. The story propped my eyelids open as I tried to sleep last night, and the melody greeted me when I awoke this morning.
This set of lyrics represents the first collaboration in the Redline Project. Late yesterday evening, I sat with my wife Margaret, and we hammered out the concept until the shape of a story emerged. Parallel construction is the main device used in the song; each verse relates to the others with common phrases and ideas as two different pictures with striking similarities are painted for the listener.
The song is about the commonalities people have across boundaries of economic status, race, and gender. Two living situations are presented that seem so different but are both filled with intense sorrow and moments of joy. These settings are portrayed as imperfect and broken, with the only place of true harmony being the public garden that lies between them. Its a story of finding hope in despair and discovering life in the midst of death.
________________________
Barefoot Commons
v1
Little black boy from Roxbury Station
Little white girl from the high rise on the hill
It's a steamy July in Downtown Crossing
But the willows cast their shade in the garden
Chorus
Black hand, white hand gripping each other
Dance in circles, sister and brother
Leaping, glittered splash underneath the fountain
Fifteen miles, a world apart
There's plenty of time for broken hearts
Drink the moment at the barefoot Commons
v2
There's something going down in Roxbury Station
Someone's two-timing in the high rise on the hill
He's skipping the rent to feed an addiction
She's hiding hot tears behind a hollow smile
v3
Find love in the pockets of Roxbury Station
Find peace in the quiet of the high rise on the hill
The ravens weave nests in the leaves of the willows
The lilies spread their wings in the garden
24 hours ago these few lines resembled little more than a haiku; today these ideas have taken shape and are singable from beginning to end. The story propped my eyelids open as I tried to sleep last night, and the melody greeted me when I awoke this morning.
This set of lyrics represents the first collaboration in the Redline Project. Late yesterday evening, I sat with my wife Margaret, and we hammered out the concept until the shape of a story emerged. Parallel construction is the main device used in the song; each verse relates to the others with common phrases and ideas as two different pictures with striking similarities are painted for the listener.
The song is about the commonalities people have across boundaries of economic status, race, and gender. Two living situations are presented that seem so different but are both filled with intense sorrow and moments of joy. These settings are portrayed as imperfect and broken, with the only place of true harmony being the public garden that lies between them. Its a story of finding hope in despair and discovering life in the midst of death.
________________________
Barefoot Commons
v1
Little black boy from Roxbury Station
Little white girl from the high rise on the hill
It's a steamy July in Downtown Crossing
But the willows cast their shade in the garden
Chorus
Black hand, white hand gripping each other
Dance in circles, sister and brother
Leaping, glittered splash underneath the fountain
Fifteen miles, a world apart
There's plenty of time for broken hearts
Drink the moment at the barefoot Commons
v2
There's something going down in Roxbury Station
Someone's two-timing in the high rise on the hill
He's skipping the rent to feed an addiction
She's hiding hot tears behind a hollow smile
v3
Find love in the pockets of Roxbury Station
Find peace in the quiet of the high rise on the hill
The ravens weave nests in the leaves of the willows
The lilies spread their wings in the garden
Friday, March 5, 2010
Toys
Yesterday was a postless void for the Redline project with good reason. I am a graphic artist by trade, and my G5 workhorse has been coughing and sputtering in its twilight years. Our business had a decent month in February, and the financial committee (my wife) okayed the purchase of a new workstation.
Perched atop my dwarfed desktop is a gleaming iMac quad core with a whopping 27 inches of viewing bliss. I am this Mac's second owner in as many months. Its retail purchaser is a PC user who could not acclimate to the Macintosh interface. As a result, I landed a barely-used workstation with full warranty and free add-ons for hundreds less than I would have paid at an Apple store.
The iMac paced its way through a migration of all my files, still digging digital grooves into the new hard drive when I awoke this morning. During this initial, lengthy data port, the computer goes into full lockdown. Without the option of typing up blog entries, I grabbed ye olde guitar, a sketchbook, a pen, a capo, and a pick.
In a few moments my mind meandered off to the Boston Commons, a magical landscape in the middle of downtown. When winter's jaw loosens its bitter bite, thousands of people emerge from their cocoons to savor a day below the garden's shade trees. A brave few, mostly children, venture their way into a concrete pond, romping with friends, splashing sisters, and chasing brothers. The delicate flutter of laughter slaloms its way through wrought lampposts long before the merry sight comes into view.
As my fingers kept picking away at the strings, I became lost in the faraway place. A fictitious story began to weave itself, and I watched in amazement as the pen began to ink lyrics on the lined page. The song in its halfway-written state sets the scene for a tale about two children from different worlds who experience a moment of shalom under the park's fountain.
The problem: I don't know what have these children do next. Is this a story of bridging different worlds? Of existences that are irreconcilable? Or is it simply a snapshot of arms linking for an isolated moment? Any ideas?
________________________
Barefoot Commons (In Progress)
v1
Little black boy
From Roxbury Station
Little white girl
From the high rise on the hill
It's a steamy July
In Downtown Crossing
But the willows cast their shade
On the garden
Chorus
Black hand, white hand
Gripping each other
Dance in circles
Sister and brother
Leaping, glittered splash
Underneath the fountain
Fifteen miles
A world apart
There's plenty of time
For broken hearts
Loosen your laces
At the barefoot Commons
Perched atop my dwarfed desktop is a gleaming iMac quad core with a whopping 27 inches of viewing bliss. I am this Mac's second owner in as many months. Its retail purchaser is a PC user who could not acclimate to the Macintosh interface. As a result, I landed a barely-used workstation with full warranty and free add-ons for hundreds less than I would have paid at an Apple store.
The iMac paced its way through a migration of all my files, still digging digital grooves into the new hard drive when I awoke this morning. During this initial, lengthy data port, the computer goes into full lockdown. Without the option of typing up blog entries, I grabbed ye olde guitar, a sketchbook, a pen, a capo, and a pick.
In a few moments my mind meandered off to the Boston Commons, a magical landscape in the middle of downtown. When winter's jaw loosens its bitter bite, thousands of people emerge from their cocoons to savor a day below the garden's shade trees. A brave few, mostly children, venture their way into a concrete pond, romping with friends, splashing sisters, and chasing brothers. The delicate flutter of laughter slaloms its way through wrought lampposts long before the merry sight comes into view.
As my fingers kept picking away at the strings, I became lost in the faraway place. A fictitious story began to weave itself, and I watched in amazement as the pen began to ink lyrics on the lined page. The song in its halfway-written state sets the scene for a tale about two children from different worlds who experience a moment of shalom under the park's fountain.
The problem: I don't know what have these children do next. Is this a story of bridging different worlds? Of existences that are irreconcilable? Or is it simply a snapshot of arms linking for an isolated moment? Any ideas?
________________________
Barefoot Commons (In Progress)
v1
Little black boy
From Roxbury Station
Little white girl
From the high rise on the hill
It's a steamy July
In Downtown Crossing
But the willows cast their shade
On the garden
Chorus
Black hand, white hand
Gripping each other
Dance in circles
Sister and brother
Leaping, glittered splash
Underneath the fountain
Fifteen miles
A world apart
There's plenty of time
For broken hearts
Loosen your laces
At the barefoot Commons
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Ballpark
I won a couple of tickets to attend a showing of the Universoul Circus, held adjacent to Turner Field, home of the Atlanta Braves. The traveling act takes the traditions of one-ringed schtick and adds multicultural twists and turns, resulting in an energized, beat-driven spectacle. Hip Hop music served as the ritornello of the pulsing evening out, and the people working the sound booth cranked the dials to 11. My ears still ring with aural residue.
My wife and I were two of the three folks under the big top hailing from caucasian backgrounds. Writers interested in culture and ethnicity would have a field day covering this event. This blog, however, is about music - specifically a project of putting music together in the course of a year. I shall focus my comments accordingly.
As we drove the ten miles to the stadium, I had no concept how far out of our everyday ballpark we would be. The experience of being an outsider looking in is entirely positive. I try to find myself in the minority with some regularity; without fail, important life lessons emerge from such situations. With eyes agape and ears perked, I tried my best to push through sensory overload and absorb some of the visual and aural wonder unfolding in front of me. If the arts are like cups of cool water, this event smacked of drinking from a fire hose.
Any notion I have of understanding music is shot to the ground after listening to tonight's songs and sounds. Music is endless, vast, and mysterious. It is folksy and sweet to speak of music as the universal language, but its dialects are numerous and thick with accent. I delight in these possibilities of sound channeling through my ears into my soul. I hope that my music (and I) will never be the same.
My wife and I were two of the three folks under the big top hailing from caucasian backgrounds. Writers interested in culture and ethnicity would have a field day covering this event. This blog, however, is about music - specifically a project of putting music together in the course of a year. I shall focus my comments accordingly.
As we drove the ten miles to the stadium, I had no concept how far out of our everyday ballpark we would be. The experience of being an outsider looking in is entirely positive. I try to find myself in the minority with some regularity; without fail, important life lessons emerge from such situations. With eyes agape and ears perked, I tried my best to push through sensory overload and absorb some of the visual and aural wonder unfolding in front of me. If the arts are like cups of cool water, this event smacked of drinking from a fire hose.
Any notion I have of understanding music is shot to the ground after listening to tonight's songs and sounds. Music is endless, vast, and mysterious. It is folksy and sweet to speak of music as the universal language, but its dialects are numerous and thick with accent. I delight in these possibilities of sound channeling through my ears into my soul. I hope that my music (and I) will never be the same.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Bit of Press
I am thankful to Tony Papia of Gordon College, who recently featured the Redline Project on the school's blog. Tony is employed by Gordon to scour the web for Alumni-related efforts, activities, and projects. I was shocked when he first contacted me about writing the article, mostly because my full name does not yet appear on this blog. Clearly the Google web crawlers are scurrying along, landing searchers in the thick of this content.
Occasionally friends will ask me why I choose to keep this project mostly anonymous. Simply stated, I want the developing timeline of the Redline Project to be relatable. Instead of readers thinking of this musical adventure as my material alone, I hope every artist and creative that lands here will reflect the story onto themselves, considering how they may ignite new efforts and rekindle old ones. May my anonymity foster in you the courage to try something daring, adventurous, risky.
If you choose to link over to the Gordon College blog to peruse the article, please do not let the name and face posted there distance you from your next creative venture. As we look toward those who are already a few steps down the road, our tendency is to see the space between. Be encouraged instead as you have a look around. I am as average as average gets - nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. Any progress you see in these posts should ready you for action on your next initiative. As the worn but true saying goes, if I can do it, surely you can too.
View the Gordon College blog article here.
Occasionally friends will ask me why I choose to keep this project mostly anonymous. Simply stated, I want the developing timeline of the Redline Project to be relatable. Instead of readers thinking of this musical adventure as my material alone, I hope every artist and creative that lands here will reflect the story onto themselves, considering how they may ignite new efforts and rekindle old ones. May my anonymity foster in you the courage to try something daring, adventurous, risky.
If you choose to link over to the Gordon College blog to peruse the article, please do not let the name and face posted there distance you from your next creative venture. As we look toward those who are already a few steps down the road, our tendency is to see the space between. Be encouraged instead as you have a look around. I am as average as average gets - nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. Any progress you see in these posts should ready you for action on your next initiative. As the worn but true saying goes, if I can do it, surely you can too.
View the Gordon College blog article here.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Sixth
A stunning bit of truth for me, and probably everyone reading, is that a sixth of 2010 has snuck past. How did that happen?
In many ways, the Redline Project is on track, and perhaps I am even a touch ahead of schedule. The second post on this blog reveals that my goal for February's end was to acquire all gear necessary to complete this effort. Check - mostly.
I have purchased many pieces and borrowed even more, finding myself surrounded with an arsenal of competent, beginner gear. Just today, an upgrade from Logic Express to Logic Studio arrived, which means I will be recording and editing audio on a top notch suite of programs. As a coworker of mine used to interject, "Great giggly wigglies." I also have acquired a mixer that doubles as a firewire audio interface, a midi keyboard, and a direct box for inputting (mostly) clean guitar signals. Sennheiser headphones, a condenser mic, and a gorgeous Guild electric guitar are the most used pieces of borrowed gear.
Still on the wish list is the Melodyne vocal editor and a good pair of studio monitors. The latter I can potentially do without, but my pathetic vocal attempts are begging the powerful Melodyne to touch and to heal. To date then, I have spent $540, just over half my project budget. I have sold around $450 worth of possessions, which leaves me owing $90 to my bank account. Not bad.
The purchase of the software and monitors together will run around $350, and right now that is all I anticipate spending on this project. Looks like I will accomplish at least one of the three goals posted in this blog's header.
Those reading along have undoubtedly noticed a slow-down in the posting of scratch recordings, and with good reason. I have been feverishly plugging away at several audio sketches of songs I hope will end up on the final Redline Project recording. 'Audio sketch' is a term I am using to refer to a fully structured song with imperfect recorded parts. Once I have an understanding of how a song or composition will be arranged, I plan to replace the rough tracks with polished counterparts.
I have five such compositions that are baked to varying degrees. I need to write seven or eight more in the course of the next three and a half months to keep pace with the next deadline. By the end of May, all songs should be written and all audio sketches complete; doable only if I put my feet to the fire and press on.
A reader suggested I locate a widget displaying the number of days left in the project, number of dollars spent, and other related statistics. This is a fantastic idea, and I will search for one tomorrow. In the meantime, I hope this brief synopsis suffices.
In many ways, the Redline Project is on track, and perhaps I am even a touch ahead of schedule. The second post on this blog reveals that my goal for February's end was to acquire all gear necessary to complete this effort. Check - mostly.
I have purchased many pieces and borrowed even more, finding myself surrounded with an arsenal of competent, beginner gear. Just today, an upgrade from Logic Express to Logic Studio arrived, which means I will be recording and editing audio on a top notch suite of programs. As a coworker of mine used to interject, "Great giggly wigglies." I also have acquired a mixer that doubles as a firewire audio interface, a midi keyboard, and a direct box for inputting (mostly) clean guitar signals. Sennheiser headphones, a condenser mic, and a gorgeous Guild electric guitar are the most used pieces of borrowed gear.
Still on the wish list is the Melodyne vocal editor and a good pair of studio monitors. The latter I can potentially do without, but my pathetic vocal attempts are begging the powerful Melodyne to touch and to heal. To date then, I have spent $540, just over half my project budget. I have sold around $450 worth of possessions, which leaves me owing $90 to my bank account. Not bad.
The purchase of the software and monitors together will run around $350, and right now that is all I anticipate spending on this project. Looks like I will accomplish at least one of the three goals posted in this blog's header.
Those reading along have undoubtedly noticed a slow-down in the posting of scratch recordings, and with good reason. I have been feverishly plugging away at several audio sketches of songs I hope will end up on the final Redline Project recording. 'Audio sketch' is a term I am using to refer to a fully structured song with imperfect recorded parts. Once I have an understanding of how a song or composition will be arranged, I plan to replace the rough tracks with polished counterparts.
I have five such compositions that are baked to varying degrees. I need to write seven or eight more in the course of the next three and a half months to keep pace with the next deadline. By the end of May, all songs should be written and all audio sketches complete; doable only if I put my feet to the fire and press on.
A reader suggested I locate a widget displaying the number of days left in the project, number of dollars spent, and other related statistics. This is a fantastic idea, and I will search for one tomorrow. In the meantime, I hope this brief synopsis suffices.
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