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.
Showing posts with label Electronic Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Electronic Music. Show all posts
Saturday, March 20, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Grounded
The past couple of days have given me a sense of growing hope that the Redline Project is starting to find a coherent direction for its recorded product. I am a person who emotes deeply and wrestles regularly with life's answerless questions, often to no avail. It is fitting that the music on the final recording will reflect these personality facets, and I am excited that they are starting to reveal themselves even in these early scratch recordings.
The feedback I have received regarding 'Slips Away' and 'Sing Silently' has been overwhelmingly positive. If you did take the time to write, please accept my sincere thanks. This project, music listeners, is for you. The final recording must speak to its audience, or it will cease to have one.
As encouraging as the past week's worth of songwriting, recording, and blogging all have been, I must confess that it all has me feeling a little heavy, and I am imagining that my readers are feeling the same. So permit me today to lighten it up a bit with a quick anecdote from the trenches of Studio Redline and a scratch recording of some electronica experimentation.
Early last month, I waxed melancholic about the endless frustrations of online message boards. Though the loathing generally continues, I am pleased to inform that I found an actual solution to one of the persisting problems plaguing my recording setup.
Here's how it all went down:
Each time I plug up my acoustic-electric Guild F4-CE or the Guild Starfire electric guitar on loan from a friend, I experience a horrid melange of buzzes, pops, static, and clown nose honks. After delving through stacks of digital drivel, I happen on a post with an intriguing do-it-yourself fix. The poster's idea smacked of the home repairs I have accomplished with duct tape in one hand and a caulk gun in the other. Perfect; worth a shot.
Simply strip a bit of plastic off the top and bottom of a long wire. Wrap one end around the exposed metal where the guitar cord meets the mixer and run the other down to the chassis of the computer. Buzzing problem solved.
Initially false. The cacophony continues. But I make an important observation: when I unwind the wire from the base of my desktop tower, the buzzing disappears. Why? Because I am touching the exposed copper threads. Apparently I am a grounded individual.
Fingers on wire equals no crazy hum or nightmare buzz. But I need both hands to play either guitar. I twirl my scraggly soul patch as I ponder my options.
Eureka! One simple maneuver later, I am adding acoustic and electric guitar tracks to the evening's musical experiment. Thank you, random message board poster. You have made my night.
So as you listen to today's scratch recording, you can thank my left gluteal muscle for the noise-free guitar lines. Yes, that's correct: I stuck that wire right down my pants and sat on it.
Mission accomplished.
The feedback I have received regarding 'Slips Away' and 'Sing Silently' has been overwhelmingly positive. If you did take the time to write, please accept my sincere thanks. This project, music listeners, is for you. The final recording must speak to its audience, or it will cease to have one.
As encouraging as the past week's worth of songwriting, recording, and blogging all have been, I must confess that it all has me feeling a little heavy, and I am imagining that my readers are feeling the same. So permit me today to lighten it up a bit with a quick anecdote from the trenches of Studio Redline and a scratch recording of some electronica experimentation.
Early last month, I waxed melancholic about the endless frustrations of online message boards. Though the loathing generally continues, I am pleased to inform that I found an actual solution to one of the persisting problems plaguing my recording setup.
Here's how it all went down:
Each time I plug up my acoustic-electric Guild F4-CE or the Guild Starfire electric guitar on loan from a friend, I experience a horrid melange of buzzes, pops, static, and clown nose honks. After delving through stacks of digital drivel, I happen on a post with an intriguing do-it-yourself fix. The poster's idea smacked of the home repairs I have accomplished with duct tape in one hand and a caulk gun in the other. Perfect; worth a shot.
Simply strip a bit of plastic off the top and bottom of a long wire. Wrap one end around the exposed metal where the guitar cord meets the mixer and run the other down to the chassis of the computer. Buzzing problem solved.
Initially false. The cacophony continues. But I make an important observation: when I unwind the wire from the base of my desktop tower, the buzzing disappears. Why? Because I am touching the exposed copper threads. Apparently I am a grounded individual.
Fingers on wire equals no crazy hum or nightmare buzz. But I need both hands to play either guitar. I twirl my scraggly soul patch as I ponder my options.
Eureka! One simple maneuver later, I am adding acoustic and electric guitar tracks to the evening's musical experiment. Thank you, random message board poster. You have made my night.
So as you listen to today's scratch recording, you can thank my left gluteal muscle for the noise-free guitar lines. Yes, that's correct: I stuck that wire right down my pants and sat on it.
Mission accomplished.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
From Out of Somewhere
To say that something came out of nowhere is an existential impossibility. I do not make any claims to be a philosopher, but I am certain that all things germinate from other things. Tree to seed to sapling, water to cloud to rain, human giving birth to human. That's the way it goes.
Consider the sobering words from the book of Ecclesiastes (1:9)
What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
If you have been following along, you are aware that songwriting daunts me. As I sat down yesterday evening for another wrestling match with the empty page, I remembered a conversation with an old friend and fine musician, Jake Armerding.
He composed a brilliant song titled Color You In that uses the names of various crayon shades to paint a picture (as it were) portraying a young, vibrant love. It is one of those tracks that makes you mash the repeat button twice so you can listen carefully 31 times. Right around repeat number 24 I knew I had Jake pegged. I could rattle off the entire story of a delicious youthful romance set in the backdrops of quaint New England townships.
No more than a week later, I inquired about the deeper meanings behind the song, to verify that my interpretation was on the money. "What did you mean by the words of this song?" I took the nonchalant angle. He thought about it, "I just wanted to do something with the colors... that's what I came up with."
Like a once-inflated piece of grape Bazooka, all the meaning I superimposed onto the track splattered to the floor with an alomst-audible 'pop.'
So there the truth was. His idea did come from somewhere, but a much simpler 'somewhere' than I had imagined.
I contemplated this as the cursor dared me yet again to type. So I thumbed my nose at the blinking demon, conjured up a relatively simple concept, and got to work. (I think I deserve some bonus points too for squeezing the word 'redline' into a verse.) Enjoy this first official attempt at lyric writing and the scratch recording that follows.
If you want to check out Jake Armerding's music, follow this link:
www.jakearmerding.com
Can you figure out the idea behind my first song? (Don't overthink it.)
________________________
SLIPS AWAY
v1
Footbridge over river
Sidewalk into square
Down to the basement diner
Thought you were waiting there
v2
Found a wallet in the back booth
With a card that held your sign
The only thing to do was chase after you
Had a time and a telephone line
v3
Red line to the garden
Green line to the shore
Blue line to the airport
Take the line to the end of the line
Chorus
Jamaica Plain is the name of the game
That you play with your fierce green open eyes
Say it’s luck of the draw that calls off the war
It slips away, it all slips away.
Consider the sobering words from the book of Ecclesiastes (1:9)
What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
If you have been following along, you are aware that songwriting daunts me. As I sat down yesterday evening for another wrestling match with the empty page, I remembered a conversation with an old friend and fine musician, Jake Armerding.
He composed a brilliant song titled Color You In that uses the names of various crayon shades to paint a picture (as it were) portraying a young, vibrant love. It is one of those tracks that makes you mash the repeat button twice so you can listen carefully 31 times. Right around repeat number 24 I knew I had Jake pegged. I could rattle off the entire story of a delicious youthful romance set in the backdrops of quaint New England townships.
No more than a week later, I inquired about the deeper meanings behind the song, to verify that my interpretation was on the money. "What did you mean by the words of this song?" I took the nonchalant angle. He thought about it, "I just wanted to do something with the colors... that's what I came up with."
Like a once-inflated piece of grape Bazooka, all the meaning I superimposed onto the track splattered to the floor with an alomst-audible 'pop.'
So there the truth was. His idea did come from somewhere, but a much simpler 'somewhere' than I had imagined.
I contemplated this as the cursor dared me yet again to type. So I thumbed my nose at the blinking demon, conjured up a relatively simple concept, and got to work. (I think I deserve some bonus points too for squeezing the word 'redline' into a verse.) Enjoy this first official attempt at lyric writing and the scratch recording that follows.
If you want to check out Jake Armerding's music, follow this link:
www.jakearmerding.com
Can you figure out the idea behind my first song? (Don't overthink it.)
________________________
SLIPS AWAY
v1
Footbridge over river
Sidewalk into square
Down to the basement diner
Thought you were waiting there
v2
Found a wallet in the back booth
With a card that held your sign
The only thing to do was chase after you
Had a time and a telephone line
v3
Red line to the garden
Green line to the shore
Blue line to the airport
Take the line to the end of the line
Chorus
Jamaica Plain is the name of the game
That you play with your fierce green open eyes
Say it’s luck of the draw that calls off the war
It slips away, it all slips away.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Coining a Term
When a person types a blog, the clicks of the keyboard seem to echo into a digital abyss. The feeling of releasing paragraphs of personal pontification is like sending Moses down the river in a basket, on a much smaller scale of course. Is anybody going to stumble upon that which was written, and if so, will the time be taken to read it? Digest it? Respond to it?
Now that I have entered the ranks of those putting digital thoughts onto remote servers, I am painfully aware of the silence that follows the push of the 'publish' button. So to the score or so of you readers who have taken the time to drop a line in response to what you have read or heard here, you have my sincere appreciation.
To that end, most of the responses trickling into my box have expressed interest in the two scratch recordings that appear in previous posts. That is a good thing, because ultimately, this project is about music, not about words on a screen.
The comments have been mostly encouraging, though an alarming percentage of them have come from my mother, who suffers from an illness of the mind called blind love. To illustrate this point, let's suppose I got a sharp knife and cut up some hunks of crusty bread. Undoubtedly she would say something like, "Oh honey, those slices are beautiful, just perfect really. And I'm not saying that because you are my son. You wield that knife with such precision, such fervor, such finesse. Sure, we've all heard of sliced bread before, but I had no idea of the glories that could become of it when you grace the procedure with your touch."
Thanks mom for the affirmations, inflated as they may be. Lots of love to you, perhaps my most avid reader.
But there have been others, some of whom I have never met before, and everyone seems to be enjoying the sounds that emanate from objects typically thought unmusical. With decades worth of history as a percussionist, it is only natural for me to bang on boxes, scratch on screens, tap on tulips (okay, clearly an overuse of alliteration). And it is amazing to find, and now start to collect, an obtuse array of sonic possibilities created from a random scattering of stuff.
I have always been fascinated by the the yet to be known. What would a fifth food group contain? What colors might appear past ultraviolet or infrared? It makes sense that my two scratch recordings both draw sounds from everyday objects.
I'm officially coining a term today, and here it is: Found Sound.
The be-all and end-all of knowledge, Wikipedia, only has one brief reference to the term in an article entitled 'Found Art.' So without any regard for actual research about it, I don thee Found Sound to be an official term of music referring to the art of assembling sounds from everyday objects into coherent musical compositions.
Collecting gear for the Redline Project fits well into the Found Sound concept. So far, I am using a microphone from a buddy's closet and a mixer from an ad on CraigsList, and I just received word that I can access an electric guitar currently doing time as wall art in a friend's living room. To some degree, this concept will hopefully become one of the hallmarks of this developing project idea.
Now that I have entered the ranks of those putting digital thoughts onto remote servers, I am painfully aware of the silence that follows the push of the 'publish' button. So to the score or so of you readers who have taken the time to drop a line in response to what you have read or heard here, you have my sincere appreciation.
To that end, most of the responses trickling into my box have expressed interest in the two scratch recordings that appear in previous posts. That is a good thing, because ultimately, this project is about music, not about words on a screen.
The comments have been mostly encouraging, though an alarming percentage of them have come from my mother, who suffers from an illness of the mind called blind love. To illustrate this point, let's suppose I got a sharp knife and cut up some hunks of crusty bread. Undoubtedly she would say something like, "Oh honey, those slices are beautiful, just perfect really. And I'm not saying that because you are my son. You wield that knife with such precision, such fervor, such finesse. Sure, we've all heard of sliced bread before, but I had no idea of the glories that could become of it when you grace the procedure with your touch."
Thanks mom for the affirmations, inflated as they may be. Lots of love to you, perhaps my most avid reader.
But there have been others, some of whom I have never met before, and everyone seems to be enjoying the sounds that emanate from objects typically thought unmusical. With decades worth of history as a percussionist, it is only natural for me to bang on boxes, scratch on screens, tap on tulips (okay, clearly an overuse of alliteration). And it is amazing to find, and now start to collect, an obtuse array of sonic possibilities created from a random scattering of stuff.
I have always been fascinated by the the yet to be known. What would a fifth food group contain? What colors might appear past ultraviolet or infrared? It makes sense that my two scratch recordings both draw sounds from everyday objects.
I'm officially coining a term today, and here it is: Found Sound.
The be-all and end-all of knowledge, Wikipedia, only has one brief reference to the term in an article entitled 'Found Art.' So without any regard for actual research about it, I don thee Found Sound to be an official term of music referring to the art of assembling sounds from everyday objects into coherent musical compositions.
Collecting gear for the Redline Project fits well into the Found Sound concept. So far, I am using a microphone from a buddy's closet and a mixer from an ad on CraigsList, and I just received word that I can access an electric guitar currently doing time as wall art in a friend's living room. To some degree, this concept will hopefully become one of the hallmarks of this developing project idea.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Sources of Inspiration
The Redline Project forays deeper each day into a somewhat schizophrenic existence. On the one hand, I have received great connections from friends, distant relatives, and even a few complete strangers who all seem to have a better handle on social networking than I ever will. The arsenal of gear strewn around Studio Redline is starting to resemble a hobby rig that just may be good enough to lay down a decent record. Most exciting of all, the blog is receiving about 50 hits a day, which is starting to lay a good foundation from which the goals of the Redline Project can be accomplished.
There is another hand that takes the form of a few major question marks. What is this whole thing other than a narcissistic romp in the sandbox of my imagination? Is there any point to all the writing, recording, or spending? Without music as an active presence in my life, I feel deflated and and a little lost, while the pursuit of music has me wondering if I am motivated by selfish ambition and vanity.
I do not have any answers, but I have been experiencing deep satisfaction, even a sense of joy, since these explorations commenced. Music is my native tongue, and rubbing my feet on its doormat once again reminds me that I am once again home.
After church today, a few friends went out for bahn mi (delicious Vietnamese sandwiches of roasted pork, chicken, or other meats, and a spicy array of fresh vegetables). My buddy Ian, who tutors youth living in one of the apartment complexes in our city, brought Leslie along, a spunky preteen from his neighborhood. The restaurant was mobbed and each opening of the door brought a blustery chill into the tiny space. Leslie is skin, bone, and hoodie sweatshirt, and she was clearly freezing. "I can't wait to go home and put my hands and feet into a pot of boiled water," she announced.
I already knew a few eye-opening facts about Leslie's home life, but I learned today that her family has no gas contract, and therefore has no hot water. A shower is not an option for Leslie right now, and I am concerned that enough warmth in this period of record-breaking freeze may also be unavailable to her.
Leslie, with all of the challenges she faces, has a sparkly smile and a far better attitude than most of us in the spoiled brat club. She is the inspiration for the scratch recording I have posted below. The glasses in the picture above are the only instrument you will hear, and my pale voice is the second sound source. The music starts thin and builds; if you have the time and patience, give it a listen to the end.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
First Scratch Recording
The house is frigid and there is no hot water in the boiler. Nothing is broken, but I had to flip the switches to get some semblance of quiet in the basement gone makeshift studio. I stopped by my buddy Peter's house this morning to pick up an Audio Technica AT4033a that has been sitting in his closet for a few years. Making sounds into the stealth-black diaphragm, my voice snaking through the tangle of wires into my headphones, brings an instant, gratifying sense that the Redline Project may actually find its way off of the ground someday.
Even with the boiler room shut down on this record-cold Atlanta morning, I am suddenly cognizant of a complex cacophony of creaks, shakes, and rattles that emanate from the foundation of my 1971 split-level. Excitment with a twist of determination was the cocktail of the hour, and after a morning's worth of clicking around GarageBand, I am pleased to announce that my very first scratch recording, with its many imperfections, is ready to be heard.
My purpose of producing scratch recordings is like jotting reflections of life into a journal. What you are able to hear below is in no way intended to be a part of the final product. It is what will be the first of many explorations, delving into the world of audio recording with little regard for polish or excellence. I am trying to find my voice, groping around the possibilities for anything even remotely coherent.
A blog is a voice, placed online through a series of keystrokes and mouse-clicks. I could not thing of a better way to kick off my explorations than to use only the sounds of my mouse, keyboard, and voice to build this first scratch track.
So with much humility and nervousness, I welcome you to listen to Redline 001.
Even with the boiler room shut down on this record-cold Atlanta morning, I am suddenly cognizant of a complex cacophony of creaks, shakes, and rattles that emanate from the foundation of my 1971 split-level. Excitment with a twist of determination was the cocktail of the hour, and after a morning's worth of clicking around GarageBand, I am pleased to announce that my very first scratch recording, with its many imperfections, is ready to be heard.
My purpose of producing scratch recordings is like jotting reflections of life into a journal. What you are able to hear below is in no way intended to be a part of the final product. It is what will be the first of many explorations, delving into the world of audio recording with little regard for polish or excellence. I am trying to find my voice, groping around the possibilities for anything even remotely coherent.
A blog is a voice, placed online through a series of keystrokes and mouse-clicks. I could not thing of a better way to kick off my explorations than to use only the sounds of my mouse, keyboard, and voice to build this first scratch track.
So with much humility and nervousness, I welcome you to listen to Redline 001.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Cheapo Delay
The processes of bringing together the funds for the Redline Project and acquiring gear that will be purchased with those funds are requiring patience and determination. I have scanned over tenths of miles worth of CraigsList classified ads, and I have made research trips to every Guitar Center within a 25 mile radius at least once.
With a week tucked away and only 51 short ones left, I do have moments of wondering if anything will come from this effort other than spending some money and keeping an online diary.
Regardless of the outcome, I am glad to report that I am feeling greatly motivated and fulfilled by the prospect of the Redline Project; a feeling that has been all but forgotten in recent years.
The wrestling match with my only piece of gear, the Alesis MultiMix 12 Firewire, rages on. I keep swinging with my troubleshooting tips and it jabs right back with static and pops and barely audible signal. A small victory: Last night, I glanced at a new dial that appeared to control an effects bank. I plugged in my guitar (currently a five-string with due credit to my buddy Eric who recently popped the thinnest one) and twisted the knob around. Hark! I doth hear the angelic echoes of cheapo delay, reverb, and flange.
With a single rotary dial, each note I play suddenly becomes eight or ten, bouncing thither and yon around the recesses of my headset. I play one chord over and over again, marveling at the sonic array that effortlessly unfolds. I am transfixed. Two hours evaporate as I lose myself in the asphyxiating swirl of sound. Midnight has come and gone, my fingers ache from the dig of the metal strings, and I am lost in music for the first time in a long, long time.
With a week tucked away and only 51 short ones left, I do have moments of wondering if anything will come from this effort other than spending some money and keeping an online diary.
Regardless of the outcome, I am glad to report that I am feeling greatly motivated and fulfilled by the prospect of the Redline Project; a feeling that has been all but forgotten in recent years.
The wrestling match with my only piece of gear, the Alesis MultiMix 12 Firewire, rages on. I keep swinging with my troubleshooting tips and it jabs right back with static and pops and barely audible signal. A small victory: Last night, I glanced at a new dial that appeared to control an effects bank. I plugged in my guitar (currently a five-string with due credit to my buddy Eric who recently popped the thinnest one) and twisted the knob around. Hark! I doth hear the angelic echoes of cheapo delay, reverb, and flange.
With a single rotary dial, each note I play suddenly becomes eight or ten, bouncing thither and yon around the recesses of my headset. I play one chord over and over again, marveling at the sonic array that effortlessly unfolds. I am transfixed. Two hours evaporate as I lose myself in the asphyxiating swirl of sound. Midnight has come and gone, my fingers ache from the dig of the metal strings, and I am lost in music for the first time in a long, long time.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Small Steps - Forwards and Backwards
Allow me to pontificate about message boards. When the opportunity to acquire an Alesis firewire mixer came along, I did as any good e-peon would do: I typed the model number into Google and mashed the button. Over 10,000 hits appeared, mostly to sites like IgnoramusExpert.com or ConceitedBasementTechs.net. Everything I could find seemed to say that the particular unit up for consideration is to computer recording what an icy Coca Cola is to a steamy August day. The perfect compliment, the balm for that which ails.
And the guy selling it lives less than four miles from my house. Score. I flopped ten crisp twenties on his kitchen counter and carried the digital bundle of joy back to the car.
I have been an acoustic instrumentalist for 25 years. Hit a drum, it makes a sound. This is the level of musical technology with which I have comfort. I also understand computing with a Mac. You buy a new mouse, you plug it in, it works. You want to add a drive, just slide it into place. Done. So you could imagine my wide-eyed, wiggly-tailed enthusiasm about running a simple wire between the mixer and computer and being instantly ready to lay down some tracks.
You may have figured out by now that the exciting prospect of the Redline Project has drizzled me with a delicious naivety. Late last night the first fingernail scratched the chalkboard.
The matte-gray beast skipped and popped, and the recording level was barely registering, and there was an awful, persistent hissing. One hundred knobs stared me in the face like a cyclops gone terribly wrong, all taunting, "Turn me, twist me, just try it."
I looked to my old friends the message boards for a little comfort, a little guidance. Much to my dismay, the whole two-faced lot of them had turned on me. Scores of skeptics had logged their frustrations with the same unit now sitting in my basement, most with a laundry list of grievances and very few with helpful suggestions. Furthermore, everyone uses a confounding array of technical, insider vocabulary. Latency... what the heck is latency?
I am thankful for my good friend Peter who comes over for coffee and good conversation each Thursday morning before work. He is something of a whiz with musical gear, and he had a look at my tangle of wires. Though we are not out of the woods yet, he had a few tips and ideas that give me some semblance of hope that my purchase will not prove to be a grand waste.
Due credit goes to Peter once again for lending me a condenser microphone. Any analog sounds that wind up on the final project will only be there because of this generous loan, and it will keep a good chunk of the budget unspent.
A friend that I have known since middle school contacted me with the following uplifting story. I am sharing it to encourage all of us to continually look for opportunities to express the creativity that dwells in all of us. She writes:
I am on the brink of a musical rebirth. I'm not sure if you remember that I sang in the choruses all through middle and high school. From there I was in a few ensembles and a cappella groups in college and loved every minute of it. After I graduated though, focus turned to career and family, and music took a backseat.
Now here I am, six years later, and a few months ago I got a chance invite to sing in an upstart band. It was one of those "in the right place at the right time" situations that had to be divine intervention, like a nudge from the universe to jump back in and rediscover that part of myself that I've been missing for so long.
And the guy selling it lives less than four miles from my house. Score. I flopped ten crisp twenties on his kitchen counter and carried the digital bundle of joy back to the car.
I have been an acoustic instrumentalist for 25 years. Hit a drum, it makes a sound. This is the level of musical technology with which I have comfort. I also understand computing with a Mac. You buy a new mouse, you plug it in, it works. You want to add a drive, just slide it into place. Done. So you could imagine my wide-eyed, wiggly-tailed enthusiasm about running a simple wire between the mixer and computer and being instantly ready to lay down some tracks.
You may have figured out by now that the exciting prospect of the Redline Project has drizzled me with a delicious naivety. Late last night the first fingernail scratched the chalkboard.
The matte-gray beast skipped and popped, and the recording level was barely registering, and there was an awful, persistent hissing. One hundred knobs stared me in the face like a cyclops gone terribly wrong, all taunting, "Turn me, twist me, just try it."
I looked to my old friends the message boards for a little comfort, a little guidance. Much to my dismay, the whole two-faced lot of them had turned on me. Scores of skeptics had logged their frustrations with the same unit now sitting in my basement, most with a laundry list of grievances and very few with helpful suggestions. Furthermore, everyone uses a confounding array of technical, insider vocabulary. Latency... what the heck is latency?
I am thankful for my good friend Peter who comes over for coffee and good conversation each Thursday morning before work. He is something of a whiz with musical gear, and he had a look at my tangle of wires. Though we are not out of the woods yet, he had a few tips and ideas that give me some semblance of hope that my purchase will not prove to be a grand waste.
Due credit goes to Peter once again for lending me a condenser microphone. Any analog sounds that wind up on the final project will only be there because of this generous loan, and it will keep a good chunk of the budget unspent.
A friend that I have known since middle school contacted me with the following uplifting story. I am sharing it to encourage all of us to continually look for opportunities to express the creativity that dwells in all of us. She writes:
I am on the brink of a musical rebirth. I'm not sure if you remember that I sang in the choruses all through middle and high school. From there I was in a few ensembles and a cappella groups in college and loved every minute of it. After I graduated though, focus turned to career and family, and music took a backseat.
Now here I am, six years later, and a few months ago I got a chance invite to sing in an upstart band. It was one of those "in the right place at the right time" situations that had to be divine intervention, like a nudge from the universe to jump back in and rediscover that part of myself that I've been missing for so long.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Out of the Woodwork
At present, the Redline Project in its entirety consists of a few patchy blog posts, a Facebook group, and a Twitter account. You can imagine my surprise and great delight to find out that several people from around the country, and yes even a couple from across the pond, have chosen to connect to this idea. It seems the social networking services are living up to their claims.
I am somewhat bewildered and deeply encouraged by comments submitted from people remembering me from the high school and college days. I assumed I was long forgotten; what a treat it is to receive kind remembrances of my then-budding musicianship from many with whom I have performed, studied, and composed.
One of the greatest hopes I have for this humble, strange project is that it will strike a chord (as it were) with other artists - musical and otherwise. If you are someone with an artistic talent that never made it into the stratosphere of fame, please drop me a line and tell the story. Just as I am hoping to wiggle out of the woodwork, it will be a pleasure to bring our common sentiments into the light.
On that note (again, as it were - apparently it is pun day), I am thankful for the two contacts I received with offers to borrow recording gear. $1000 is not much of a budget, but it is still a lot of money, and borrowed-for-free is a concept much more in line with the spirit of the Redline Project. If anyone has an audio interface (firewire/usb), decent microphones, XLR or quarter-inch cables, a midi-controller keyboard, or anything else even remotely useful that is in a corner getting dusty, please send me a note. I will give credit where credit is due.
I am somewhat bewildered and deeply encouraged by comments submitted from people remembering me from the high school and college days. I assumed I was long forgotten; what a treat it is to receive kind remembrances of my then-budding musicianship from many with whom I have performed, studied, and composed.
One of the greatest hopes I have for this humble, strange project is that it will strike a chord (as it were) with other artists - musical and otherwise. If you are someone with an artistic talent that never made it into the stratosphere of fame, please drop me a line and tell the story. Just as I am hoping to wiggle out of the woodwork, it will be a pleasure to bring our common sentiments into the light.
On that note (again, as it were - apparently it is pun day), I am thankful for the two contacts I received with offers to borrow recording gear. $1000 is not much of a budget, but it is still a lot of money, and borrowed-for-free is a concept much more in line with the spirit of the Redline Project. If anyone has an audio interface (firewire/usb), decent microphones, XLR or quarter-inch cables, a midi-controller keyboard, or anything else even remotely useful that is in a corner getting dusty, please send me a note. I will give credit where credit is due.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Brainstorming in the Bath
Some of my greatest musical ideas emerge during the ten minutes of my daily shower. Why is that? I can barely crowbar my eyes open one minute, and then a little sprinkle of water atop my head has me singing, beat-boxing, hammering out jams on shampoo vials.
This morning was no exception. I had no less than four decent ideas for musical textures before the boiler ran out of hot water. And now, I can't remember a single one. If this project is going to get off of the ground, I am going to need to capture and solidify some of these ideas. Is there such a thing as a waterproof recording device?
Sunday, January 3, 2010
First Challenge: Project Budget
I am pleased to announce that the premise of the Redline Project has been approved by the advisory board (my wife)... Well, mostly.
The first issue this project will face is a slight discrepancy in the budget allotment. Instead of having $1000 to begin, I have $0. Not an insurmountable problem, but definitely one that will require some creativity and resourcefulness.
My goal is to spend no more than $1000 on this entire project, but despite my hoping otherwise, it looks like I am going to have to find the money before I can spend it. Initial ideas: There's a fairly nice bicycle in the shed and few pieces of musical gear around the house that are no longer of use to me. I will spend some time this afternoon valuing these items and posting them for sale.
On a much more confounding note, I have commenced the tedious job of scouring through endless web pages looking for advice on piecing together an adequate recording rig. Thanks to my line of work, I already own a powerful Mac G5 that is a bit old, but still has plenty of kick. That leaves the need for recording software, audio interface, microphone(s), cables, and some sort of midi controller keyboard.
There is much to discuss about an acoustic instrumentalist (steeped in the jazz tradition) embracing the world of computer music and midi interfacing. But this is a philosophical topic that I will reserve for a day further down the road. For now, this little piggy is off to the e-market to pawn off some unwanted gear in exchange for a project budget.
The first issue this project will face is a slight discrepancy in the budget allotment. Instead of having $1000 to begin, I have $0. Not an insurmountable problem, but definitely one that will require some creativity and resourcefulness.
My goal is to spend no more than $1000 on this entire project, but despite my hoping otherwise, it looks like I am going to have to find the money before I can spend it. Initial ideas: There's a fairly nice bicycle in the shed and few pieces of musical gear around the house that are no longer of use to me. I will spend some time this afternoon valuing these items and posting them for sale.
On a much more confounding note, I have commenced the tedious job of scouring through endless web pages looking for advice on piecing together an adequate recording rig. Thanks to my line of work, I already own a powerful Mac G5 that is a bit old, but still has plenty of kick. That leaves the need for recording software, audio interface, microphone(s), cables, and some sort of midi controller keyboard.
There is much to discuss about an acoustic instrumentalist (steeped in the jazz tradition) embracing the world of computer music and midi interfacing. But this is a philosophical topic that I will reserve for a day further down the road. For now, this little piggy is off to the e-market to pawn off some unwanted gear in exchange for a project budget.
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