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.
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
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?
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.
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 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.
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
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.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Beyond Pretty Flowers
When the Redline Project blog launched two months ago, I had little idea that the goal of creating an album of music in the course of a year would lead me down an intense introspective path. I should have known, because music worthy of our ears is often an outpouring of its creator's soul as much as it is a technical or aesthetic feat.
Scouring the depths for pivotal information about who I am, what I believe, and my life values produced clear findings, and I am excited to share the conclusion tonight.
(This is the final time I will mention that a recap of this process is available in a post entitled 'Conceptualizing.'
Question number seven:
In a world full of endless noise and chatter, what do I have to say that may add something of worth to the dialogue?
This final question essentially begs a synthesis of all other explanations. I am pleased to offer one, but wish first to explain the why this is important.
Pretty flowers have been painted for centuries, and they will continue to fill canvases ad infinitum. This is a good thing; flowers are a marvel of nature that deserve our time and attention. Paul Cezanne, one of my favorite artists, possessed a love the subject, and produced an abundance of floral still-lifes during his fruitful career.
A fine professor of music at Georgia State University once declared, "It is no longer enough to produce pretty music. The artworks that become relevant and rise to peoples' notice are ones that enter into a dialogue, offering something to say of importance."
I think he is correct. The music of the Redline Project should be much more than the aural version of handsome blooms. The end product should have something to say.
There is plenty of meaningless drivel that wiggles its way into the affections of the masses (I will not offer specific examples as one person's trash is most likely another's treasure, and I do not intend to spark a heated debate), but if this project is going to be worth my time to produce, and deserve space on your iPods and other such devices, its contents must tell an important story, hold weight, speak messages of significance.
That is the crux of tonight's question, and indeed the essence of this two weak self-search. What do I have to communicate that is worth a listen?
Clear themes have emerged as I typed paragraph upon paragraph. For one, I believe in the importance of justice and feel that time aiding and uplifting the oppressed is time well spent. If everyone cared for their neighbor as they care for themselves, the world would be a blessed place. This is perhaps the most prevalent theme of these weeks' writings.
Secondly, I think that wealth, fame, status, security, and power all pale in comparison to love and the importance of relationships. I would rather have a life filled with friendship than any of the aforementioned acquisitions.
Thirdly, I believe that life presents everyone with extraordinarily complex questions. Some queries include 'Why does evil exist?', 'Why am I so rich when so many in the world starve, often to death?', 'How did we get here?', 'Does my life have any meaning or purpose?', and on the list goes... Though answers are not always easy (or even possible) to come by, these questions are worthy of exploration. I also believe that the arts offer a perfect venue for coping with the confounding aspects of life.
Finally, I am defined by my faith. True faith is much more than a system of belief; it is a call to action. Faith asks for much more than isolated events of charity, inspiring the whole of life be given in love and service to others. Not about personal gain, my should be filled with deep care for those around me - especially the poor and disenfranchised. Though my wife and I are on the front end of unearthing the implications of this, we are committed to finding answers that will hopefully lead to significant life change.
The same professor mentioned above also stated, "All writing is autobiographical." Wise man. I think that anything creative, be it visual art, drama, poetry, pottery, film, prose, dance, or music, is marked by the thumbprint of its creator. The Redline Project recording may technically fall out the exhaust pipe of my audio gear, but above all the music will portray my struggles and victories, emotions and experiences.
I have made an important decision. The music of the Redline Project will be a collection of songs that tell stories of injustice, offer snapshots of hope, paint pictures of pain, and portray a desire for peace. Some tracks will have vocals, while others will be instrumental. Nothing about the album will be a direct moral statement or call to action. It will instead tell thought-provoking tales that will most likely speak different messages to each listener. The music presented on the recording will be a volume of questions without clear answers that ask the listener to open eyes and arms wide to a world that aches deeply for love.
Another significant finding: While the Redline Project is still largely a solitary effort, I am inclined to include guest musicians, recordists, or other technicians as appropriate. If I value relationships as much as I say, it is appropriate for able and willing friends to help me accomplish the goals of my project. I am unsure the degree to which others will assist me, but contrary to my views at the start of the project, I am now open to this approach.
Sincere thanks to everyone who has stuck with this blog as I made my way through these lengthy discourse of self-awareness. I am the richer for it, and I hope the bearing of my soul has inspired you in to do the same in your own unique way. Tomorrow I excitedly return to the music armed with clear purpose and direction.
Scouring the depths for pivotal information about who I am, what I believe, and my life values produced clear findings, and I am excited to share the conclusion tonight.
(This is the final time I will mention that a recap of this process is available in a post entitled 'Conceptualizing.'
Question number seven:
In a world full of endless noise and chatter, what do I have to say that may add something of worth to the dialogue?
This final question essentially begs a synthesis of all other explanations. I am pleased to offer one, but wish first to explain the why this is important.
Pretty flowers have been painted for centuries, and they will continue to fill canvases ad infinitum. This is a good thing; flowers are a marvel of nature that deserve our time and attention. Paul Cezanne, one of my favorite artists, possessed a love the subject, and produced an abundance of floral still-lifes during his fruitful career.
A fine professor of music at Georgia State University once declared, "It is no longer enough to produce pretty music. The artworks that become relevant and rise to peoples' notice are ones that enter into a dialogue, offering something to say of importance."
I think he is correct. The music of the Redline Project should be much more than the aural version of handsome blooms. The end product should have something to say.
There is plenty of meaningless drivel that wiggles its way into the affections of the masses (I will not offer specific examples as one person's trash is most likely another's treasure, and I do not intend to spark a heated debate), but if this project is going to be worth my time to produce, and deserve space on your iPods and other such devices, its contents must tell an important story, hold weight, speak messages of significance.
That is the crux of tonight's question, and indeed the essence of this two weak self-search. What do I have to communicate that is worth a listen?
Clear themes have emerged as I typed paragraph upon paragraph. For one, I believe in the importance of justice and feel that time aiding and uplifting the oppressed is time well spent. If everyone cared for their neighbor as they care for themselves, the world would be a blessed place. This is perhaps the most prevalent theme of these weeks' writings.
Secondly, I think that wealth, fame, status, security, and power all pale in comparison to love and the importance of relationships. I would rather have a life filled with friendship than any of the aforementioned acquisitions.
Thirdly, I believe that life presents everyone with extraordinarily complex questions. Some queries include 'Why does evil exist?', 'Why am I so rich when so many in the world starve, often to death?', 'How did we get here?', 'Does my life have any meaning or purpose?', and on the list goes... Though answers are not always easy (or even possible) to come by, these questions are worthy of exploration. I also believe that the arts offer a perfect venue for coping with the confounding aspects of life.
Finally, I am defined by my faith. True faith is much more than a system of belief; it is a call to action. Faith asks for much more than isolated events of charity, inspiring the whole of life be given in love and service to others. Not about personal gain, my should be filled with deep care for those around me - especially the poor and disenfranchised. Though my wife and I are on the front end of unearthing the implications of this, we are committed to finding answers that will hopefully lead to significant life change.
The same professor mentioned above also stated, "All writing is autobiographical." Wise man. I think that anything creative, be it visual art, drama, poetry, pottery, film, prose, dance, or music, is marked by the thumbprint of its creator. The Redline Project recording may technically fall out the exhaust pipe of my audio gear, but above all the music will portray my struggles and victories, emotions and experiences.
I have made an important decision. The music of the Redline Project will be a collection of songs that tell stories of injustice, offer snapshots of hope, paint pictures of pain, and portray a desire for peace. Some tracks will have vocals, while others will be instrumental. Nothing about the album will be a direct moral statement or call to action. It will instead tell thought-provoking tales that will most likely speak different messages to each listener. The music presented on the recording will be a volume of questions without clear answers that ask the listener to open eyes and arms wide to a world that aches deeply for love.
Another significant finding: While the Redline Project is still largely a solitary effort, I am inclined to include guest musicians, recordists, or other technicians as appropriate. If I value relationships as much as I say, it is appropriate for able and willing friends to help me accomplish the goals of my project. I am unsure the degree to which others will assist me, but contrary to my views at the start of the project, I am now open to this approach.
Sincere thanks to everyone who has stuck with this blog as I made my way through these lengthy discourse of self-awareness. I am the richer for it, and I hope the bearing of my soul has inspired you in to do the same in your own unique way. Tomorrow I excitedly return to the music armed with clear purpose and direction.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Sweetie Pie Day
I am not big on most holidays. My wife generally is, but neither one of us are pinned under the commercial spell of Valentine's Day. We skip the gifts/flowers/chocolates ordeal and instead opt to spend the day together doing something fun and maybe out of the ordinary.
Today we toured the Cyclorama, one of the world's largest paintings that depicts the events of the Civil War's Atlanta Campaign. A painting in the round that has the same square yardage as a football field, this piece took nine artists two years to produce. Its weight is around 10,000 pounds with a circumference of 358 feet.
This is all irrelevant to the point of this blog, except that this epic work dwarfs my tiny recording project and therefore gives me much hope. Surely if this group of ambitious creatives could render a milestone such as this cycloramic painting, so can I accomplish the goals of the Redline Project.
That's all for now. The Day of the Sweetie Pie is not yet over, and solo creative project blogs are not the most conducive to romance. So off I go.
I leave you with a minute's worth of groove I threw together yesterday. I intend it to become the foundation for some lyrics I wrote yesterday as well. Wishing everyone the warmest of sentiments on your candy message hearts.
Today we toured the Cyclorama, one of the world's largest paintings that depicts the events of the Civil War's Atlanta Campaign. A painting in the round that has the same square yardage as a football field, this piece took nine artists two years to produce. Its weight is around 10,000 pounds with a circumference of 358 feet.
This is all irrelevant to the point of this blog, except that this epic work dwarfs my tiny recording project and therefore gives me much hope. Surely if this group of ambitious creatives could render a milestone such as this cycloramic painting, so can I accomplish the goals of the Redline Project.
That's all for now. The Day of the Sweetie Pie is not yet over, and solo creative project blogs are not the most conducive to romance. So off I go.
I leave you with a minute's worth of groove I threw together yesterday. I intend it to become the foundation for some lyrics I wrote yesterday as well. Wishing everyone the warmest of sentiments on your candy message hearts.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Stepping Stones
I am one month and 13 recorded experiments into my brazen return to music. As I walked a friend through some basics of Logic Express two nights ago, it occurred to me that I have rounded up quite a bit of knowledge in a short amount of time.
Ask me how to send a signal to the sidechain of the EVOC Vocoder or how to dump samples into the ESX-24 Synth. Inquire about sending audio to a bus for effects treatment or boiling down all the tracks into a MP3 bounce. I will be able to explain, and the answer I offer will be at least somewhat more substantive than moose poo. Progress.
With each new effect, synth, and recording trick I tuck into the toolbelt, it is apparent that endless possibilities tempt the great danger of overproducing. A familiar ailment from my early days as a graphic designer, I used to smother my projects with every possible plug-in, from drop shadows to bevels, from inner glows to noise overlays. Sure, I could click buttons, but was I exhibiting any taste, any restraint, any thoughtfulness in my selections?
This is why you, the listener, are essential to the success of this initiative. In the scratch recordings posted here, do you enjoy the ones with a raw sound? Do you like any that have heavy voice effects or vocoding? Do you prefer the instrumental tracks? The found-sound experiments? The lighter songs?
Joining my continued efforts in songwriting and scratch recording, the next step for the Redline Project is to draft an overall approach for the final product; a set of guidelines that will steer the artistic direction of the final piece. There will be plenty more to which you can listen in the coming days, though the focus of this project will start to shift from experimentation to conceptualizing the actual album.
Now is the time to scratch on the Facebook group wall, bombard the email, click away on the 'comment' button. What's working, and what does not come together for you? What keeps you coming back for more? What sounds scratch away at your nerves? Sincere thanks for all who are reading along and offering feedback. The Redline Project is nothing without you.
Ask me how to send a signal to the sidechain of the EVOC Vocoder or how to dump samples into the ESX-24 Synth. Inquire about sending audio to a bus for effects treatment or boiling down all the tracks into a MP3 bounce. I will be able to explain, and the answer I offer will be at least somewhat more substantive than moose poo. Progress.
With each new effect, synth, and recording trick I tuck into the toolbelt, it is apparent that endless possibilities tempt the great danger of overproducing. A familiar ailment from my early days as a graphic designer, I used to smother my projects with every possible plug-in, from drop shadows to bevels, from inner glows to noise overlays. Sure, I could click buttons, but was I exhibiting any taste, any restraint, any thoughtfulness in my selections?
This is why you, the listener, are essential to the success of this initiative. In the scratch recordings posted here, do you enjoy the ones with a raw sound? Do you like any that have heavy voice effects or vocoding? Do you prefer the instrumental tracks? The found-sound experiments? The lighter songs?
Joining my continued efforts in songwriting and scratch recording, the next step for the Redline Project is to draft an overall approach for the final product; a set of guidelines that will steer the artistic direction of the final piece. There will be plenty more to which you can listen in the coming days, though the focus of this project will start to shift from experimentation to conceptualizing the actual album.
Now is the time to scratch on the Facebook group wall, bombard the email, click away on the 'comment' button. What's working, and what does not come together for you? What keeps you coming back for more? What sounds scratch away at your nerves? Sincere thanks for all who are reading along and offering feedback. The Redline Project is nothing without you.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Justin the Bug Man
Around 2:00 this afternoon, the doorbell rang. Our hero (and nemesis to all things crawly) Justin the exterminator returned for another round of critter genocide. The bell tolls for roaches and palmettos once a quarter, and on such nasty occasions we are usually good to remember pulling bric-brac away from walls to speed up the process.
No more than ten minutes into his rampage of bug doom, Justin burst through the office door with a look of fire in his eyes unfamiliar from our previous visits.
"What kind of Guild is in that case?"
One of the many items not tucked into its usual spot was my acoustic-electric cutaway. He must have seen the emblem on the case.
"It's an F4-CE. Post Fender, but still pretty sweet."
That's all he needed to unearth the true Justin from under pounds of bug-man disguise. What was a gray-uniformed employee morphed into a human being full of vitality and wonder. We engaged in a conversation about guitars, and guitar brands, and recording, and home recording, and musical goals, and songwriting, and lyrics, and, and, and...
Turns out Justin is one of us: a person whose heart palpitates for music. He has a wife and two kids, all supportive of his art and at the same time all needing cash for groceries, shoes, and school supplies. I already knew that Justin pummels bugs to put potatoes on the table, but I learned today that he been jotting lyrics and rehearsing songs for twenty years.
He traded me some yellow paperwork for a 75 dollar check and headed for the door.
"This is your year. You have to do this now." I encouraged.
He agreed to aim for some recording and a little bit of performing in the coming months. I hope he follows through. I hope he can let the music out. I hope he will get heard.
Justin, if you land on this page, know that you have found a small but fiery band of sisters and brothers who all wrestle deeply with the issue at hand. There is music, art, prose, dance, drama, poetry inside trying to push to the outside. Time to let it out.
No more than ten minutes into his rampage of bug doom, Justin burst through the office door with a look of fire in his eyes unfamiliar from our previous visits.
"What kind of Guild is in that case?"
One of the many items not tucked into its usual spot was my acoustic-electric cutaway. He must have seen the emblem on the case.
"It's an F4-CE. Post Fender, but still pretty sweet."
That's all he needed to unearth the true Justin from under pounds of bug-man disguise. What was a gray-uniformed employee morphed into a human being full of vitality and wonder. We engaged in a conversation about guitars, and guitar brands, and recording, and home recording, and musical goals, and songwriting, and lyrics, and, and, and...
Turns out Justin is one of us: a person whose heart palpitates for music. He has a wife and two kids, all supportive of his art and at the same time all needing cash for groceries, shoes, and school supplies. I already knew that Justin pummels bugs to put potatoes on the table, but I learned today that he been jotting lyrics and rehearsing songs for twenty years.
He traded me some yellow paperwork for a 75 dollar check and headed for the door.
"This is your year. You have to do this now." I encouraged.
He agreed to aim for some recording and a little bit of performing in the coming months. I hope he follows through. I hope he can let the music out. I hope he will get heard.
Justin, if you land on this page, know that you have found a small but fiery band of sisters and brothers who all wrestle deeply with the issue at hand. There is music, art, prose, dance, drama, poetry inside trying to push to the outside. Time to let it out.
Monday, January 25, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Importance of Song
From my first days sitting at a piano, with my kindergarten-sized legs swinging around unable to reach the pedals, I have always been moved by the sounds of the different instruments. As this fascination developed into a love, I became continually more serious about studying instrumental music. Matter of fact, I did not stop until I had a bachelors degree hanging on the wall and a masters degree tied in a neat roll on the counter.
A quick tangent and a true story worth telling: It was not more than a few days after I received my official masters degree from Fedex that I left the house to run a brief errand. When I returned 20 minutes later, I found a guilty-looking beagle, my pooch Daisy, slunk across her pillow. When she wouldn't look me in the eye, I knew it was time to survey the damage. Sure enough, I found what remained of my diploma on the floor. Daisy had consumed most of it, including the official school seal and the presidential signatures. Pffft.
For every moment I am working on these posts or researching musical gear, I am finding at least five more to contemplate my approach to creating an album of music.
The main problem: I can't sing. Not an underestimation, I know how I want the emanations of my mouth to sound, but my vocal chords refuse to cooperate. My voice is wispy and feeble, and hardly ever squarely on pitch. Hence the instrumental bent I suppose. It only follows that I have no experience writing lyrics or composing song structures.
A quick jostle through the radio dial reveals the truth anyone could have guessed: music that connects with most people has lyrics, tells a story, is sung.
Big questions loom. As I begin to put together an approach to the product of this project, will I somehow include singing and songwriting? Stick with my instrumental comfort zone? Some combination of the two? And even larger, what is the story I am trying to tell here? What is the picture I am trying to paint?
Just for giggles I sat with the blinking cursor yesterday and scribbled out a few verses. Instead of my custom of being embarrassed, I am going to make a practice of putting my scratches out there for everyone to dissect. If there are any poets or lyricists out there, feel free to dig your nails in.
A quick tangent and a true story worth telling: It was not more than a few days after I received my official masters degree from Fedex that I left the house to run a brief errand. When I returned 20 minutes later, I found a guilty-looking beagle, my pooch Daisy, slunk across her pillow. When she wouldn't look me in the eye, I knew it was time to survey the damage. Sure enough, I found what remained of my diploma on the floor. Daisy had consumed most of it, including the official school seal and the presidential signatures. Pffft.
For every moment I am working on these posts or researching musical gear, I am finding at least five more to contemplate my approach to creating an album of music.
The main problem: I can't sing. Not an underestimation, I know how I want the emanations of my mouth to sound, but my vocal chords refuse to cooperate. My voice is wispy and feeble, and hardly ever squarely on pitch. Hence the instrumental bent I suppose. It only follows that I have no experience writing lyrics or composing song structures.
A quick jostle through the radio dial reveals the truth anyone could have guessed: music that connects with most people has lyrics, tells a story, is sung.
Big questions loom. As I begin to put together an approach to the product of this project, will I somehow include singing and songwriting? Stick with my instrumental comfort zone? Some combination of the two? And even larger, what is the story I am trying to tell here? What is the picture I am trying to paint?
Just for giggles I sat with the blinking cursor yesterday and scribbled out a few verses. Instead of my custom of being embarrassed, I am going to make a practice of putting my scratches out there for everyone to dissect. If there are any poets or lyricists out there, feel free to dig your nails in.
Who are you? Lost around the world.
Without a face. Without a trace.
A lonely space echoes back the silence.
Years slip by without a word.
Lost into the past.
Just dial tone on the telephone.
The mailbox rattles in the wind.
Come home. Who are you?
On a lighter and much more trendy note, the Redline Project is on Facebook and Twitter now.
Facebook: The Redline Project
Twitter: @RedlineProject
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