Category Archives: Music Biz

Fun, Artifactually

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This past weekend was very productive, recording-wise. The best part is that I hadn’t planned on recording, really–it just happened. A couple weeks ago, when I recorded “When You Were Young,” while the capo was still on that first fret, I came up with a really simple progression and a nice melody. Next thing you know, I had a chorus, too–though the immediate lyric that popped into my head was far too similar to the name of the song I seemed to be…subconsciously borrowing from. (“Hang on to Your Ego / I Know There’s an Answer,” for the record.) (And I can believe that Coldplay might have “gotten” something off Joe Satriani after all, because I’ve heard the above mentioned Beach Boys song maybe three times in my life, total. Music definitely hits and sinks in subliminally at the lightest points of contact…)

At any rate, I had no idea what else to sing about on this one, so I just told myself to relax and wait for something to show up. About last Thursday, it did. I also knew the song would be short, and not hard to play. So I got it on Saturday–all of it, really, though I may want to re-cut the solo.

It felt good, but Sunday was even better, as I laid down a cover for a project I want to post about separately, later. The main thing here is that I just hopped on the stuff spur-of-the-moment, and it reminded me that I don’t have to be super-rehearsed in order to do that. Thinking back, that’s kind of how I’ve always worked. When I record, the songs are in various states of completion, and as far as the little flourishes and extras–backing vocals, solos, keyboard textures–I almost NEVER know what I’m going to put down.

I think I was giving myself a hard time about this, ever since Scott visited to record and showed me how a “real” musician does it. Or maybe I’ve been conflating rehearsal-for-performance with rehearsal-for-recording. Either way, it was good to get off my own back and just get lost in the process. I came out of the basement thinking: Yes, I make legitimate artifacts. This counts.

Less pretentiously put, it was hella fun, and I think it just might have kicked open the floodgates officially for this current batch of songs.

Whether now, in 2009, it makes any sense for me to save all these up and offer them as an “album,” I don’t know. I’m torn between going that tried-and-true road…or just posting them here individually as they get completed. Of course, I could always do both. But if I do go with post AND product, should that product be a CD-R? Or should I suck it up and go vinyl? Decisions, decisions…

p.s. Now that I think on it, I’ve heard “I Know There’s an Answer” a bunch of times. It was on that MOJO mix from a couple years ago.

Old Dog, New Tracks

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I’ve been using eMusic–a download subscription service–for over a year now. Each month, I’m allotted 30 downloads for $12. That’s a quarter a song, which is pretty much what I think MP3s are worth, so I’m happy with the arrangement. I’ve re-constructed the otherwise out-of-print and/or expensively imported Slowdive EP-collection-thing Blue Day, and I’ve collected some of the work of my favorite comedians. But mainly what I use eMusic for is to check out new music. At that price, it doesn’t hurt too much to discover that, for example, I’m just not a Jay Reatard person. Delete and roll on.

But… And this question will only be relatable to music nerds of a certain age, but: What about the ones I like? What about the ones I fall madly in love with? Any sane, modern American would say, “Umm, listen to it a lot?” But for someone who’s been conditioned to bond with albums via some physical form, it’s unsatisfying on some ghostly level to have these songs “just” in my iTunes library, “just” in MP3 format.

So, I’ve taken to burning CD-R’s of whatever I don’t dislike, so there’s some physical copy around. Why? In case I want to throw it into the kitchen CD player, or take it with me in the car. But lately I’ve been realizing how silly that is, since both of these players have iPod jacks. Indeed, the only stereo in my house that can’t handle an iPod is the big one in my office–and that can be remedied with a $15 iPod dock.

Not to mention the storage problem. Even in slimline cases, burning a CD or two a month above my regular, non-experimental purchases (like the Thermals’ latest) starts to expand rather robustly. I look at my shelves and think of what Amy’s done, what a lot of my friends have done–put their boxless discs in zippered binders, just in case, leaving the digital copy as the main library. Shelf space liberated.

I have no conclusion today. But I will say that those of us raised on CDs–we got the worst of both worlds. As a tactile experience, they pale in comparison to vinyl, hanging on a hinge and a flimsy booklet. But then from the perspective of convenience, the things aren’t small ENOUGH by today’s standards, having the gall to take up more than hard drive space. They might as well not exist, and every day that becomes more and more likely.

Meanwhile, I love the new Metric album so much that I want to have a “proper” copy of it. I could just burn it ($0.30), but the CD is also available for cheap on Amazon ($7.99), and I think I’ve seen it on vinyl at Reckless ($10 – $15). So how much do I love it? And is spending extra money for it a fulfillment of that love, or merely an expression of it? Is either possibility sad and/or unhealthy? At least economically? Is this a rich man’s dilemma or what?

Whether records or furniture or puppets, treasuring things is a joy, and one I’ll probably indulge for the rest of my life. But when I lean on that pleasure too much, when I fool myself into thinking it contains nutrients it simply doesn’t, that’s where the problems start.

p.s.
For further reading, Chris Day has an excellent blog about the collection-compulsion from a comic-book perspective. Also, as an introduction to his 2008 top tens, glenn mcdonald explores the CD format and how it relates to music vs. the music business, etc.

Like in Front of People

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My last gig was half a year ago. Cruising the path of least resistance, I’d emailed the nearby coffee shop with my MySpace link, and when they said they had Halloween night open, I said sure. Some of my co-workers live near the place, and it was a Friday, and maybe it would be cool.

Or maybe not. It was one of those places where you’re not sure why they let people play, since no-one seems to want it. I hate that sinking feeling, setting up your gear, getting dirty looks from the people whose reading you’re about to interrupt. But of course you soldier on, and so I plugged in…and the guitar and amp that had worked fine back in the basement refused to work. So I dashed back home, grabbed the acoustic two-string, and sat down at the back of the place (no stage, no mic, just like any other patron who happens to be noodling on a guitar) and proceeded to shake and stutter through about four songs before deciding it wasn’t worth it. Amy got to hear me do my Frightened Rabbit cover, but other than that it was a horrible experience.

I’ve reflected on that night many times since, and I have two basic thoughts on it. First, it’s inarguably lame that since Tom and Casey moved back to Ohio, I’ve literally only played when asked to, taking NO initiative to get gigs myself–the “path of least resistance” gig on Halloween being the only exception. I played Lilly’s twice last summer as a fill-in for my fellow-ex-Raleigh compatriot Denise Hradecky, and I’ve done Hoot Night whenever it’s made its way back to Chicago (thanks, Tom). But sending out CDs? Or whatever it is you’re supposed to do nowadays? Nope, can’t be bothered. I used to think this was a cool, low-stress way to go about it. And maybe that would make sense for a successful, full band in a “smaller market.” But I’m not so sure it holds for me and Chicago. All it’s done is shrink my profile. (“Profile.” Yech.)

The second thought I have about that crappy night is what a wuss I was for not sucking it up, pasting on a smile and plowing through a full set. Is it because I’m so unaccustomed to playing in general that I go full diva at the prospect of a non-rapt audience? What happened to the fun of playing for its own sake? I can’t shake the feeling that, like so many of my peers (hi, Eric Z), I should be able to stand down any audience, however small, unruly or uninterested, and just…do what I do. Because I’m pretty good at it, and there’s a chance that someone within earshot will like it. Couldn’t it–SHOULDN’T it–be as simple as that? Getting to that mental space is the challenge, anyway.

Well, in the spirit of all the above, I sent out four gig-grubbing emails this past weekend. Wish me luck. Meanwhile, I’ll make a note to myself that if I want to post again on this topic of playing out generally, the jump-off sub-topics would be 1) confidence vs. vanity, and 2) defining “worth” and “it” when wondering if a gig is “worth it.”

Manic-Compressive

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Beginning with the sinking feeling balancing out the gee-whizzery that came with my first iPod, and culminating with Nick Southall’s excellent Stylus piece from 2006, I’ve always looked down on compression. Whenever I make mix CDs, I try to use uncompressed files whenever I have them, and I make note of the fact on the mix artwork itself. Same when I copy whole albums for people: I re-rip the CD in an uncompressed form, then re-burn it and delete the files. By the same token, when people give me discs, I’m always wary of the source. Call it snobbery if you will, but in some listening configurations, it’s glaringly obvious when you’ve got a rip of a burn of a compressed rip (etc.).

Now when I record music, I take this suspicion with me. I even made an arch comment in the notes to my last CD, something about how the files have not been compressed, so “I leave that to you.” (Yep, like my version of Queen’s “no keyboards were used” disclaimers from the 70′s.  What a nerd!) Still, I’ve recently been reminded that I’m actually conflating two different things here. There’s the compression of audio files, and all the gains HD space / loss in sound quality that comes with it. There’s a consumer level of this kind of compression, like when you rip a CD to ACC or MP3 format. There’s also the, erm, “producer” end of this, where, say, Metallica or Oasis compress holy hell out of their albums at mastering time in order for the end product to bore into your eardrums–oops, I mean grab your attention–upon first listen. It’s basically the same principle that makes television ads sound louder. They are in fact louder because they’re compressed.

Anyway, the articles linked above and below say way more than I could on that subject. Getting back to the conflation of compressions… Maybe a better way to put this would be to say that I have a blanket fear of compression that’s proven inappropriate and impractical in a recording scenario. I’m talking here about applying compression to individual tracks, like I did with Scott while he was here, and like I’ll probably do on my own projects going forward. In old bands, I’ve heard compression applied successfully before, and I was trying to do this to some of the wilder, dipping-and-cresting instruments Scott brought to the table (hello, accordion!). Only Garageband, in its consumer-level-ness, only has so many compression settings, and during my first mix, I couldn’t find any that sounded natural. “Natural” meaning without losing too much nuance.

(Parenthetical aside: All of this sound-talk is as squishy and subjective as wine-tasting, in my opinion. “Punchy,” “warm” and “wet” are just like “peppery,” “buttery” and “notes of peach,” each set of phrases having equal potential to describe as to elude…or infuriate. In fact, due to the high volume of wine I was drinking when my old band was mixing The Problem with Fun, I still sometimes think of tannin-rich reds as having “a lot of high end.” But anyway…)

When I went for a second pass at mixing Scott’s stuff, I found a compression setting (“basic vocal,” I think it was called) that, to my ears at least, did exactly what it was supposed to do. It took some of the jump-outy-ness (!!!) of Scott’s more dynamic vocal takes and smoothed them out without flattening them like a pancake. Ditto that pesky accordion and those unfortunate cases where we had to record the voice plus one instrument in a single go. These tracks, placed alongside closer-miked, UNcompressed ones (electric guitar, keyboards), maintained their character without getting lost, or riding obnoxiously over the top. A happy discovery.

Of course, when I listen back on my iPod, such distinctions aren’t exactly noticeable. So is it a fool’s game? Meh.  All I know is that it’s fun, and on the off chance anyone wanted to blast the stuff through proper speakers, or some Bose headphones, I’d like to think it helps with the immersion. Now if someone could get that message to the Killers…that’d be great.

Meanwhile, here’s some further reading on the “loudness wars,” if you’re so inclined. Includes fascinating graphs that display just how compressed music has become in the last 20-odd years:

http://www.cdmasteringservices.com/dynamicdeath.htm