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.

Ring Ring Ring

Life is structured to take us away from anything important. Work shifts us from our families, scheduled obligations keep us from hiking trail, and our handheld devices beep and squeak until we are up to our ears in voicemails.

What began as song lyrics a few hours ago mostly ended up in the digital recycle bin. The sole salvage: a two-line bridge. Hopefully you will find it as catchy and addictive as I do.

The music posted below is as much a public service announcement as it is a scratch recording.

When your thumbs are purple from your Blackberry and you have killed more than a few minutes checking the latest twitches (or whatever they are callled), take a moment to reflect on the good food you ate for supper, the blankets that will help you forget the January chills as you sleep tonight, and the rest that will be yours when you wake tomorrow. Even when life is not so good, it is so good.

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.

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.