Like buses
There's an old joke in the UK that some things are like waiting for buses: you wait ages with nothing, and then three come along at the same time. Well, in this case it's more like two, but I've been chewing over ideas for a new song, and today another completely new one overtook it and leapt into existence almost unbidden.
I've probably never said it here before, but my answer to the perennial songwriter's question—which comes first, words or music?—is usually: the music, and the words tend to follow. Having said that, since I embarked on my project for 2008 (for want of a less cringeworthy name, a "concept album"), I've found myself thinking a lot more in terms of lyrics first, probably as I have to try and fit them into the "concept". This new song is the second in succession where the lyrics came first, and the music later, except here it all occurred within 48 hours.
I had a title (which I won't reveal yet, perhaps until I have a rough demo to share), and the lyrics came out in fits and starts over the course of yesterday evening, this lunchtime and this evening. There was a rough idea in my head of the kind of musical style I had in mind. I'll be quite open and admit this song was inspired by two things: the Kinks song "Afternoon Tea" (from their album "Something Else" (1967)), and a bag of green tea I had on my desk at my office (it'll make more sense when you hear the song).
What really surprised me when I sat down with the guitar, was how easily—even naturally—the music came for the words. I rarely write music to words, as I feel the results are more stilted and 'forced' when I do that; here, however, the chords and melody almost wrote themselves, and although I may well need to sand off a rough edge here and there, I think that the final version may not change greatly from what emerged the first time I played it.
Labels: conceptalbum, music, songwriting
Technology old and new
For my sixth birthday (1978, if you must know), my main present from my parents was a Stylophone—a tiny monophonic electronic organ played by touching the tip of a stylus on a metal "keyboard". I had a white model, which may have been a bit rarer than the usual black-with-fake-wood-trim ones I've seen elsewhere—I ended up buying one of the latter from a jumble sale some years ago, and it's still around the house somewhere. Sadly, the white one succumbed to battery leakage in the end, but at least I still have the black one (if I can find it).
Around 2000, when I had rather more spare time than I do now, I built a Stylophone SoundFont (sampled sound bank) by sampling and looping every note on my Stylo, both via the built-in line output and by miking up the speaker. I then recreated the Stylo's vibrato in the SoundFont editor, and created a couple of patches with chorus effects. I still have the SoundFont somewhere, and might release it on this site some time if anyone is interested.
I mention this because at the time I made this SoundFont, I really wanted to make another one, this time of the Stylophone 350S. This was the "deluxe" Stylo, with a wider range of voices (organ, clarinet, etc.) and a higher price tag to match; I really wanted this instead of the model I actually got, but of course all these years later, I realise Mum and Dad would have been crazy to have bought such an expensive piece of kit for a six-year-old!
My wish to make a 350S SoundFont was understandably stymied by the difficulty of actually finding one—fully-working models are not common now, and those you do find are quite pricey—and I doubt I would find the time to sample it and produce the SoundFont these days. Just as well, then, that I no longer have to, as Precisionsound now offer a Stylophone 350S sampled "instrument".
Something else for my pocket money to go on sometime :-)
Labels: instruments, music
Do it yourself
Scott Andrew—a fine independent singer-songwriter from somewhere in the Seattle area (the "winged monkey" icon elsewhere on this page links to the Web site for his current CD, "Save You From Yourself")—has been musing on the idea of independent artists raising cash for recording projects through donations from their fans.
He has a valid perspective on this concept, not least because his current CD was largely funded through fans' pre-orders and a rather well thought-out "incentive" system (i.e. the more one paid in advance, the more "goodies" one received when the CD was finished). I liked Scott's last album (2003's "Where I've Been"), and bought the CD even though he made the tracks available for free download, as I wanted to repay in some way the trust he placed in his listeners (and the music was good too :-) ), so I also ended up pre-ordering "SYFY" as well.
Scott also raised an interesting question: if you don't know as an artist whether you have an audience out there to fund the recording of your new masterpiece (and being a thirtysomething amateur musician/songwriter who has never toured and can number his live performances in the last five years on the fingers of one hand, that includes me), why not release an album as a free Internet download, and see what reaction it gets?
I am giving this idea some thought at present, and here's my concept:
I record and mix the songs for my current project as planned, but deliberately play as much as possible myself to keep the costs down (possibly with some guest keyboards from Joy if she's up for it). I would then post the results online for free download... and it's here where I'm not sure how to take it further. I'd like to rely on an "honour system", and ask downloaders if they would like to let me know what they thought of the album, and whether they might also be interested in an "enhanced" CD version. (Presumably, by "enhanced CD", I could mean either the existing recordings with extra items on a "data" section of the CD—the approach Scott Andrew took with "Where I've Been"—or re-recorded versions of the songs with other musicians, or even a combination of the two.)
Of course, I haven't thought everything through yet. For one thing, I'm well aware that by putting the tracks online for free download, I'm taking the risk that some, or even most, downloaders will just take the tracks and give me no feedback (or even worse, some might try reselling them or passing off the songs and/or recordings as their own, or something). Well, yes, it might happen, but then some listeners might try something similar even if I just tried selling CDs, and as Scott has said more than once, it's a kind of backhanded compliment if you've produced something which someone considers worth stealing...
If I were to try this approach, I would be putting my faith in the honour of anyone interested enough in my recorded work to download it in the first place (and to get it for free), to also take a couple of minutes to let me know (a) that they've downloaded the album; (b) what they honestly think of it; and (c) whether they would be prepared to cough up for a value-added version. Yes, it's entirely possible that I might get little or no feedback, or that the feedback I do receive tells me that the album sucks and I should stick to the day job. At least if the latter happened, I would know where I stand in the arena of public opinion, and that at least I had given it my best shot and hadn't just (artistically speaking) hidden in my bedroom, too nervous of the possibility of criticism to try venturing out and discovering if my music had an audience. (Which come to think of it, pretty well sums up what I did throughout my twenties, when I actually had the time to go out and try gigging that I don't really have now (with a family and other commitments).)
Still, better late than never...?
Labels: conceptalbum, internet, music, recording
An anniversary of sorts
Just time—in-between daughter-entertaining, studying-and-writing for next OU course assignment and hoping that all this penicillin will kill off the horrid throat infection I've been enduring since the weekend—to mark something of a milestone: on this day, exactly twenty-one years ago, I planted myself beside my bedroom record-player (for that it was—dates me a bit, I know) with my mum's Spanish guitar and her Mick Abrahams tutor record, and let Mick's voice guide me through my very first guitar chords. Even then, I wondered how long I'd keep at it.
Suffice it to say, over two decades later, I'm still strummin' and pickin', and have even added the odd other instrument to the roster (though if they've got strings and frets too, that helps). I count learning the guitar as one of the better decisions I've made, not least because it's often been a kind of escape for me—probably less so now than in the past, as I feel generally more content and comfortable with myself these days than has sometimes been the case. But there's a whole other post there; just not this time...
So, will I reach for the guitar tonight and, for old-time's sake, try and imagine how I strained to finger those first G and C chords? It's hard to say, what with all the other calls on my time, but... well, you know, I just might do that.
"One, two, three: dum-ching, dum-ching, dum-ching..."
Labels: guitar
