Trouble With Classicists

RIP Karlheinz Stockhausen, Composer, Charlatan

Taking a break from all that music writing for a moment to note the passing one of the most important composers of the 20th century.

I will never forget the feeling the moment Stockhausen clicked for me -- not coincidentally, while watching a lecture of his from 1972 or so. You could make a very good argument that Stockhausen's most lasting influence were those lectures -- not so much the music itself, but how he talked and thought about it. Wearing this dramatic, military-issue pea coat in master-classes delivered in almost superhumanly good English before a few hundred students stroking their beards and hanging on his every word, Stockhausen would expound not just on how he composed his pieces, but on these remarkably transformative ideas that guided that process.

While it's been a decade since I watched them, I can't tell you how powerful those lectures were to me -- when you actually saw how these ideas connected with the construction of the notes on the page (his scores were absolutely gorgeous). No one's work was more rewarding to study -- Klavierstucke III (which runs about thirty seconds) comes to mind as a particularly heady, if austere experience.

It was only later that I learned many of the concepts Stockhausen spoke about in those 1971-72 lectures were, for all intents and purposes, faked -- invented long after he'd composed the pieces they supposedly informed. This "discovery" had the effect of making me always question artists talking about their own work.

But more than that, realizing that Stockhausen--who could "defend" his own works better than any composer in history--was at best exaggerating mightily cast doubt on the whole need for "conceptual integrity" in the first place -- this idea that your work had to have this hyper-logical masterplan at its core. So, a mixed legacy to be sure.

Contemporaneous lecture-cum-peacoat here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIPVc2Jvd0w.  Pretty good stuff.

Market Forces

Recently on the I Love Music message board, I wrote about Orchestra of Bubbles, an enjoyable IDM-ish collaboration between Ellen Allien (of the Berlin-based BPitch Control label) and Apparat from last year.  What struck me about the record was that even though I'd been listening to it a ton, I felt curiously unsatisfied.  I wondered whether it had something to do with a distinct lack of solid melodies, writing:

The tension inherent to even the best of these records is almost entirely of the textural and rhythmic variety — not anything to do with melody or harmony, really. I guess the question that gnaws at me, even when you look across the history of dance music, is: why can't you do both? Or perhaps, why aren't more people doing both? 

I mean, you have to acknowledge that spatial, electronic arrangements create a kind of energy in music that's unique. And there's something to be said for using the spare parts of pop music for other purposes. But a lot of IDM, microhouse, etc. artists seem like they would be more exciting (and transcend the pure dance-related scenes from whence they came) if they were a touch more rigorous in determining why their music is so impressionistic and non-linear. After all, you can't really dance to a lot of this stuff anyway...

I was happy with the point, in that it hit upon what it is about IDM that so often bothers me: so much of it sounds different enough from straight up pop music to sound like something different and new, but draws on enough pop conventions (beats, verse/chorus structures), making poor enough use of them as to leave me frustrated that it fails so miserably as pop. 

For all the superiority I felt in having made the argument, I immediately found my own compositional skills tested by it, wanting to try out the new version of Ableton Live, software that, in essence, allows any loop to play in time with another.  I'd used Live for some time, finding its "elastic audio" concept conducive to the composition process.  But recently, I've started to wonder: is it too conducive?  Put another way, does the glut of increasingly powerful (and accessible) music software like Live, Reason and GarageBand correspond in any way to the glut of new music with production values that far outstrip its artistic values?

Case in point:

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This is the first thing out of the box, as it were, for me, my laptop and Ableton Live 6 — recorded in so short a time that I'm almost embarrassed to admit it.  As a blatant ripoff of the Orchestra of Bubbles soundworld, it isn't bad, getting most of the surface details right—the driving, punchy bass, the fastidiously detailed beats and not-quite-melancholic atmosphere—though it clearly lacks the duo's sense of drama — the crescendos and persistent textural development that marks their work together.  As a composition, the song is negligible to the point of nonexistent, more or less centered around one melody, introducing a counter melody and repeating them until the fade.  But honestly, were I to trim a few rough edges and add an additional textural variation or two (which won't happen, since I wrote this in an unsave-able demo mode), it wouldn't exactly sound out of place on, say, a BPitch b-side.  Which is to say, without even trying, I came awfully close to replicating something Philip Sherburne, among others, lavishly praised in Pitchfork less than a year ago.

But then, I didn't succeed, did I?  And of course, I didn't get there first, either.  Yet the ease with which I made it makes me wonder whether the "lack of rigor" I mentioned in the ILM post bears any relation to the ease with which artists can apply production values that were impossible (or impossibly expensive) only a decade ago.  Judge for yourself. 

Download holland_tunnel.mp3

"I Enjoy Being A Girl" -- Learning GarageBand and other holiday stories

So having bought a MacBook on the cheap, I enter the world of laptop-dom in full-force.  While I spend inordinate amounts of time this holiday season configuring the damn thing, I am working on Apple's GarageBand, which is to music composition software what cell phone cameras were to photography.

I had all this stuff written about how programs like GarageBand have rendered professionalism no longer an indicator of quality, but it seems stupid now.  Let's instead get right to these three minor sketches I did while at my parents' place over Xmas.  I know I'm supposed to post everything when I write it, but with the holidays and the attendant familial craziness--indeed,I just found out my sister got married last night--I believe forgiveness from my dear readers is not too much to ask.

Besides, it's not like I'm posting The Wall in its entirety here.  Two of these tracks take advantage of the program's (rather sophisticated) effects processors -- in this case, processing my vocals.  One sounds like Boards of Canada's third album (replete with their somewhat earthbound drums); on the second, my voice sounds almost like something off a Wendy and Bonnie record.  And yes: I like sounding like a girl.  The third is more like what Brian Wilson used to call a "feel" -- which is really more of a mood or a textural thing than a song -- sometimes I like writing that way and finding the chords and melodies later.  On each, I'm still working on figuring out how to be more detailed within the program.  More later...

Download sketch_1.mp3

Download sketch_2.mp3

Download sketch_3.mp3

Fear And Loathing

So, I've been trying to alternate song posts with meta-posts about previous entries and so forth.  But this probably merits mentioning now:

As noted earlier, the idea behind TWC was twofold: 1) a diary to help me get a head of steam in my own writing, and 2) an opportunity to explore the creative process in public, with some level of interaction and participation by others.  I think it's fair to say that there's been some success on both fronts thus far.

What I hadn't expected was what the experience of making unfinished music available to the public would feel like.  And about the only way I can describe that feeling is that it's a mixture of exhilaration and sheer terror.  Why is that relevant?  Well, as I've mused elsewhere, manufacturing energy in pop music has become a rather laborious exercise.  And it's not just at the mass consumer level; for aspiring songwriters, artists and bands, the rigmarole of practicing, of playing out, of building a fan base, and developing label interest has become so rote, so detached from the actual creative process, that we've taken to assuming it only exists to produce an end result — fame, record sales, sexual favors.  To produce product, as it were.  Indeed, despite an increasing number of tools available for artists to promote their music with, CD's still retail for $20 a pop, and P2P use remains rampant by all indications — to most listeners, songs are little more than aluminum discs or, worse, tiny files locked away somewhere on your hard drive.   

Along the same lines, I've spent much of the last several years wondering why it is that I try to create music at all.  Not in an existential sense, mind you, but rather what motivates me.  To be sure, it isn't for any of the above reasons (though had fame or money come my way, it's not as if I would have exactly rejected them out of hand).  But much as I prefer working alone, music isn't something I care to create in a vacuum.  Like many writers, I like hearing what people think of my music — and what I like most is when it offers a perspective I didn't or couldn't produce on my own.

But as much as this effort is about how and why I write music, as TWC has moved forward, it's become increasingly apparent that it's also about how and why we LISTEN to music.  To be sure, we all appreciate things like good melodies, snappy beats and engaging lyrics — and some of us are drawn to certain sounds more than others.  But the choices we make during the creative process and why we make them can be pretty interesting in their own right.  With movies, we get DVD's, commentary tracks, behind-the-scenes documentaries and other insights into what went into making the film; but with music, windows into the creative process are scarce.   

So, how then does this all relate to TWC?  Because in the place of a moribund, isolated writing process with little chance of the music ever making it into the public is a dynamic process, fraught with possibility and risk.  Again, it's hard to overstate how fucking terrifying it is putting unfinished songs (esp. those with vocals) into the public sphere.  It gnaws at everything a professional musician works toward — ie, convincing the audience he or she is doing something worthwhile, even important.  Put aside whether putting incomplete work out there not only calls into question that the music is any good — it risks the underlying assumption that this person is even talented.

Of course, the flipside is that the trust you can build up with an audience is just not something you can buy at Sam Goody. Whether it's a note you can't quite reach, a ghastly lyric or something worse, you're essentially saying to the listener, "Stick with me — this is going to be interesting." It's the ultimate pitch.

Stay tuned...

Inside the Red Zone

And so a few comments have been rolling in about the latest version of "Shino."  Through e-mail, I've heard from others, too —  many positive, mostly constructive, all interesting.  Among the thoughts:

1. Lots of people seem to be hearing echoes of David Byrne in the vocal.  While I don't discount the notion that there's some similarity between the clipped phrasing of the verse here and his style, to be honest: I don't really hear it.  It certainly wasn't intentional.
2. Another reader commented that there's an Afrika Bambaataa /early Detroit techno thing going on in the backing track.  Especially given that I was also using Kraftwerk samples for the drums, I can't believe that hadn't occurred to me before — it absolutely does.
3. Beyond the issue of influences, another reader comments:

"I actually like that the coda is kind of minimalist. I know what you mean by suggesting that something like a solo might sound "right" there, but I think the way it is, it brings out the bleak, mechanical, digital qualities of the song in a good way." 

I completely agree, actually — this is one of the pitfalls of judging something immediately after you've recorded or written it.  Part of the process, I suppose.

Along the same lines, whereas I initially felt some apprehension about this song, especially given that it was the debut of my vocals here on TWC, I've come around on it to the point that I'm actually starting to like this track a lot.  If nothing else, particularly given the specific nature of some of the suggestions (ie, "This part feels like it's lacking something"), "Shino" has proven a good example of how this blog is supposed to work.

Lastly, one reader suggested I ask folks their thoughts on the genesis of the lyrics —  any guesses?

Rinse, repeat...

Ok, so despite a similarity in the opening bars, here's a substantially different version of "Shino" — a different , smoother vocal, a sharpened instrumental mix, a few new lyrics, and a new section: a coda.  Is it there yet?  I'm not sure — probably not.  The vocal may still be a touch too mannered and structurally it's still a bit misshapen.

A few interesting things to compare to the last version of this:

1. The vocal now has now been processed to a cold metallic sheen — I think it works, given the subject matter, almost as if it's being sung behind bars.
2. The rhythm section now drops out in the section verse — the effect is much more dramatic.
3. The coda feels like it could use a solo or counter melody of some sort.

It's still kind of a weird song — not the most tuneful thing in the world, but with the right balance, it has potential.

The writing process has been interesting thus far — I can't say I ever would have predicted it would turn out this way.  Having started as something of a late-70's/early-80's YMO/Kraftwerk homage, as I've worked to embed the vocal in the mix, the song has begun to acquire a more digital, glitchier, more modern sound.  And I'm not sure how I feel about that yet.

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Download shino_vox_mix_2.mp3

And Then The Vocals...

Ok, well, this wasn't exactly the debut of my vocal and songwriting skills I had in mind for TWC.  But I pledged to do a warts and all process here and received some encouragement from the masses to go in that direction.  Besides, producing something I wasn't terribly sold on was going to happen sooner or later. 

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Download shino_vox_mix_1.mp3

So what we have here is a moderately-interesting J-pop technopop track that has now acquired a lazy vocal of dubious intonation and some post punk overtones of questionable necessity.  Still, it's a start.

A few observations, and let's begin with the criticisms:

The Cons

1. I may have added a melody, but it's not really a positive here — not yet anyway.  The verse wanders a little and the chorus is more of a chant than a tune.
2. The song's harmonic foundation never fully establishes itself (though given the subject matter, that may have its advantages from a tension standpoint).
3. With the addition of the vocal, the backing track becomes overly busy and hyper-syncopated.

More minor criticisms would include the raggedness of the vocal itself and an unbalanced form — as of now, we have a verse/chorus/breakdown/verse/chorus followed by an abrupt end.  But both will fix themselves as the process continues.

The Pro's

1. The opening line has some requisite drama.
2. Though it won't be confused with "Yesterday," the chorus isn't without appeal.
3. A few things about the vocal one could generously argue recall John Cale — in particular, the phrasing of the "dust" line at the conclusion of the first verse and the way it ends kind of mid-phrase.

There's a more interesting question that occurs to me, though.   A critic commented a few years ago when Burt Bacharach teamed with the unlikely partner of Dr. Dre to release the underwhelming (but not without its pleasures) At This Time.  He argued Dre's foursquare beats clipped Bacharach's usually circuitous melodic style.  And even though this song shares nothing with Bacharach's work, writing enervative melodies over dance beats and static harmonies is a real challenge.  For me, anyway.

Above all else though, what the evidence proves is that sometimes songwriting isn't a pretty process.  For every great story about "Caroline, No" being written in fifteen minutes, with inspiration flowing like wine at an Italian wedding, there's about 4 million more that are grueling work filled with  difficult and often embarrassing moments.  You can probably guess which camp this song's gonna be in.

The Feedback Loop

So Todd Burns comments that "Shino" lacks a strong melody:

I liked this one: I particularly enjoyed the cut-up vocal parts during the drum breakdown in the middle. One thing that I think that you need to think about more, however, is melody. The drum programming may be top-notch and interesting to listen to, but if it's undergirding a melody that doesn't strike anywhere close to that soft gooey candy center, then it's all for naught. This one doesn't do much for me.

First, thanks to Todd for his insights — and though his post goes from "I liked this one" to "This one doesn't do much for me" in the space of five lines, I appreciate the fb and will happily grant sleep deprivation as the likeliest culprit.

Still, his comment seems a good opportunity to clarify something about Trouble With Classicists. "Shino" isn't the only track here that lacks a strong melody — to be sure, if anything one element is clearly missing from each of the tracks posted to date, it's melody.  That's because none have yet been written for them (or at least not recorded) — though it's a little unorthodox, I often write that way.  And though I recognize listening to works in progress and songs lacking melodies is a little different from writing that way, perhaps one way to approach these tracks is to approach them as working tapes along the lines of what we've heard in various "sessions" box sets or instrumental twelve-inches — half-finished canvasses upon which the main focus has not necessarily yet been revealed.   

So, expect some tracks to work as is and others to require a little more imagination.  Regardless, my hope is to post tracks with plenty to chew on and debate.  In the cases of "Shino" and "Udo Kier," a vocal perhaps...

And now, to return the favor to Todd, I will attempt to finish that Robert Fripp review I've been promising him for the last several months...

Shino

Another really over-the-top "technopop" homage in the vein of Sakamoto's B-2 Unit and YMO's Solid State Survivor -- again, with a heavy focus on precision programming, featuring lots of herky jerky starts and stops and metallic FM-y sounds.  The idea here was to kind of merge a late-70s analog computer music sound with that of the slightly colder records that emerged early in the following decade.  As a result, you have a few Kraftwerk-y percussion sounds underpinned by some pretty leaden Linn Drum samples.

There are a few cut-up vocal effects in there -- a complete nod to the Sylvian "tapes" stuff from the early 80's where some processed Japanese singer would just burst in for a split second.  I like it here.

Download Shino.mp3