J. and I were talking
about musical technique of a sort,
maybe something more.
We were talking
about the feel of another drummer’s time,
about how in tiny ways
it sounded wonky.
He plays louder instead of stronger I say
making gestures like clouds.
J. reaches for a conclusion already formed.
His playing doesn’t have soul he says
waiting for my response.
(Where does one get soul?)
(You just have it.)
It doesn’t drag or rush though
I split the difference.
But the feel isn’t there, J. rebounds.
It never settles.
Right, it never settles.
The next time you’re at a concert
notice the melodists up front
–those singing, strumming,
bowing or blowing through pipes–
and watch them sway with the tune
as if they invented its themes
as if they’re unlocking its emotions
then notice the rhythmicists at the back
–those drumming hammer blows
or mallet strikes–
and feel how they subdivide music’s time,
decorating it through accents
counting custodians of synchrony
who guide the melodists
on their flights of fancy.
• An article by John Colpitts about drumming instruction books.
“The student musician’s lot is a lonely one. Often these books are your only companions, outside of occasional meetings with an instructor. You hunger for some kind of contact, some wisdom beyond the mind-numbing exercises. Sometimes it feels as if you’re only engaging with the slog of the process instead of the transcendence that comes with deeper practice. These books are the key to understanding music as something beyond performance; at their best, they activate the empathy essential to collaborating with an ensemble. We’re all kind of insane to do this work. The justifications in method books, whether they’re awkwardly or fluently phrased, illuminate the practice and its practitioners—they point beyond the bandstand, maybe into the tangle of stories musicians tell ourselves daily to stay the course.”
• The workflow of Geoff Dyer (who has written most excellently about music).
“I do a bit of work, the amount that a mum with a full-time job and two kids could have managed by 10 in the morning. Failing that, I contemplate the most remarkable thing about getting older: the sheer acceleration of time. Sometimes I just sit for an hour, feeling time almost as a physical force. Even sitting motionless at my desk I can feel it blowing back my hair as though I’m in an open-top car, careering towards oblivion.”
• An in-depth interview with cellist-composer Anna Thorvaldsdottir about her creative process.
“Thorvaldsdottir’s creative process involves a lot of pre-compositional work that is about visualizing—both through fashioning visual representations of sound through graphs and other imagery, and through ‘inward listening and finding themes, materials, and textures’ in her mind, as she put it in our interview. The drawings are manifestations of this inner sound world. The sound comes first, and she added, ‘these pictures are entirely the way I hear the piece. The pictures are working tools, and that starts to feed you.'”
The phrase posits people
as a set of knobs for twisting
lining up their numbers
as if concentration
is a radio or combination lock
in search of the right station
reducing the static
click into action
to hack thinking
input the numbers
quantify the self
put it on the line
believing that performing
is running like a machine.
• An article about the effects of the MP3 compression format on music’s perceived emotional characteristics.
“The results showed that MP3 compression strengthened neutral and negative emotional characteristics (things like Shy, Scary, Sad) and weakened positive emotional ones (like Happy, Romantic, Calm). Interestingly, the characteristic Anger was relatively unaffected. The study suggested that the background ‘growl’ added by MP3 compression was the source behind the negative trend.”
• An article by an academic about the subtle meanings of critical feedback.
“Feedback is a psychological honeytrap. When giving feedback, you can never tell how the recipient will interpret what you have said, and what they will read into it. And, let’s be honest guys, what we read into feedback often says more about us than about the feedback.”
• An article about using AI to invent new sounds.
“They’re producing entirely new sounds using the mathematical characteristics of the notes that emerge from [two different instruments]. And they can do this with about a thousand different instruments—from violins to balafons—creating countless new sounds from those we already have, thanks to artificial intelligence.”
Imagine how an alien
sensibility might hear
as a series of sound-gestures
than what practiced moves should mean
so that jazz isn’t swing
rock doesn’t rebel
classical can’t conjure
and dance won’t trance
as the sensibility hears
through and beyond
your musical moves
past even their signals’ social
and resonant rapport
to reach further along
the spectrum of sense
than a musician can know
by playing his axe
in concert with others
because the alien’s sense
is deaf to your sounds
to their language
of impossible signs.
“Why does it have to take off in a conventional sense? Enjoy the layers instead.”
“I don’t understand why people are complaining that this isn’t ‘going anywhere.’ Girl, it does not have to go anywhere! You hear that raw emotion in her voice? Yes queen!” (Becca Britton)
Haim is a pop-rock band from Los Angeles composed of three multi-instrumentalist sisters, Danielle, Alana, and Este Haim. Their recent “Right Now” is an interesting sonic study in how to make more from less, which on this song is a drum machine pulse, a few well placed chords, and some deconstructed drumming.
The song opens with a quiet drum machine rhythm with kick on beats 1 and 3, open-closed hi hats aflutter, and an organ melody descending over three pitches, F-E-D. The first surprise is hearing Danielle’s lead vocals and bassist Este’s back up responses (“right now, right now”) tumbling in and over the steady kick-hi hat pulse which draws your ear to the contrast between machine rigidity and the emotional swaying of the singing whose forward-moving phrasing brings intensity to the lyrics (“You left me searching for a reason / Why’d you leave, left me in the dust”). The song progresses as the organ melody is replaced by piano chords cycling through a progression, F major, a minor, and G major, which is soon joined by electric guitar and bass parts–first feedbacking sounds, then melodic lines that mirror the song’s Fmaj-Amin-GMaj cycle to add grit and depth. Then, just when you might think that the song might not be “going” anywhere, the band moves to a bridge with chromatic inflections that feels like an exhalation of gospel air.
The song’s second surprise comes near its end when Alana and Este move to a set of tom-toms. As the drum machine kick-hi hat pulse and the piano cycle around, we watch and hear real drumming added to the mix–first a floor tom rhythm, then a figure on the high toms. What is interesting in a more from less sort of way is how Alana and Este get four rhythm parts out of two sets of hands by playing what is essentially a deconstructed drum set (sans kick or snare drums). Each drummer strikes both the drum heads and the drum rims, which creates a double call-response between their left and right hands answering one another while dovetailing with the other set of hands. The parts are elegantly designed and the drumming meshes with the song in a double-time way that brings both complexity and space and lets us, as one YouTube viewer puts it, “enjoy the layers.” By weaving repetition and micro-variation tightly together, Haim’s “Right Now” keeps itself tensile, moving pop music’s patterns around like pieces of a puzzle.