Where's My Album?

I hear this all the time from CMAS students (and others):  "Why should I buy a full album from an artist, when I can easily just download only the tracks I want?  Plus, it seems like most albums, even by my favorite artists are made up of a few tracks I like and the rest is all just filler."

It's a complex issue.  On one level, there is the notion that while there is so much out there, a lot of it is junk.  It's easy to get lost in the din.  On another level, there is the notion that it was not always that way and the market has allowed this kind of disposable quality to music (perhaps to all the arts?) that fosters this frequent "not so great but good enough" approach.  Another level to consider is that the entire purpose of an album has been lost, just generally, as an art form.  And there are others.  Many others.  

But my point here is not so much those concepts but something more fundamental: are we doing a disservice to the art of creating music by even allowing the option of a single song download from a wouldbe larger scale project?

The artistic purest in me says, immediately and without a moment's hesitation, YES!  The pragmatist in me, however, is not so sure. 

Here is the dilemma:  if art is a reflection of society, and society is moving in a more, albeit artistically stifling direction, does art that works to offset or even to change that movement actually reflect society accurately?

This is not just semantics. You cannot have it both ways.  Nor can you claim everything is done as a protest.  It's certainly a conceivable possibility but it's not likely to actually happen in reality.  Frankly, it's far too easy to make a bigger name for yourself and more money if you don't protest and if you get along. 

And that does't even address the factors that revolve around the rather, I think, sad fact that the manufacturers of much of todays music production tools have found that if they make things that allow pretty much anyone to just, at the push of a button, sound "real," they can make even more money, regardless of where we wanna call the results art or just exercises in technology as a crutch.  But that is another rant for another time.  Anyway...

Sure you might get very lucky and be at the nexus of a great redefining of music, but most of us will never be there, regardless of our intentions, skills or anything else that might be a factor.  And, sure, you can go your own road all you want in the name of artistic truth, but what if no one is there to hear you?  Even if you are right?  Even if your music is legitimately brilliant; but because you are all alone no one hears it?  Really, what if no one hears?  And yet another rant...

It's a confusing and multi layered problem.  One that does not just have a silver bullet solution.  

As I begin to reexamine my own musical priorities as I prepare to start recording some of the vast multitude of songs I been writing in the past many months  I wonder where I will end up on this issue.  Or if it even matters.

Maybe that's the real point of art.  Not to be a statement of anything other than of itself.  hmmmmmm…

Serve The Song

I'm a huge techno-buff.  Particularly when it comes to music.  I find it all so fascinating.  The idea that there are these tools to help refocus my creativity and my overall creative process is just so cool a concept.

On the other hand, technology as a crutch drives me crazy.  Balancing these two used to be a considerable challenge for me.  But over time I have found that if I start with that basic idea, "serve the song," and actually follow that as a kinda of unbreakable rule - ironic in that I also firmly believe there should be no rules to creativity, *sigh* - I can pretty much move into any area that catches my creative fancy.

Let me give you a more concrete example.  I am also a big fan of Dave Grohl.  (Aren't we all?)  The guy is truly an inspiration for so many reasons.  Recently he made this incredible film called "Sound City," and I really encourage you all to see it.  Repeatedly.  It is quite astonishing, and has so much on so many levels that I found myself having to watch it a couple of times recently to ensure I felt I had gotten all that I could from the experience.  Anyway...

The film is part history lesson about a particular studio (Sound City), part recording industry rant, part technology rant...you get the idea.  On the surface there is this sense of a "technology has killed music" notion floated by a lot of the artists in the film - and there are a LOT of them in the film.  So many heroes of mine that I kinda lost count.  There are all these example stories of technology killing the musical process in favor a the quick and easy route to "success."  Dave went so far as to by the Neve console from the studio for his own studio and he's since produced several amazing LPs with it.

I've heard lots of musicians respond to this film - and similar- by saying that they are going back to analog.  No more computers.  No more artificial elements. It's all gotta be "real."  Ok, but the notion of "real" is not so clear these days.  As if the analog tape machine is any less of a technology than digital.  Different certainly, but technology all the same.  It's as though they skipped the scenes in the film with Trent Reznor.  Folks, it's not the technology.  It's you.

"No, man.  You don't get it.  Dave, he went all 'old school.'  All analog.  No computers.  It's all real."  Come on.  Really?  You gotta see past that.  What Dave did is nothing short of brilliant.  But, to me at least, it has nothing to do with pro-analog or anti-computers/anti-Pro Tools.  It's about how you get musically inspired.

Think about it.  Stripping things down and removing the computer really was just a way to facilitate a different approach to music making.  Opening up previously unexplored creative paths.  But the analog versus digital element is just a superficial bit on the surface.  Go deeper and they are both irrelevant.

All that matters is the song.  That's it.  Are you letting the music make the decisions or are you forcing yourself onto it?  Your song doesn't suck because you used computers.  And it's not brilliant because you went analog.  It sucks because you got in the way.  It sucks because you let your ego get to the point of arrogance and the music took a back seat in some way.  Maybe it was 'cuz you rushed something.  Or didn't practice the line enough to make it really shine.  Or didn't let things be gloriously out of sync and/or tune.  If your song sucks, it's not the music.  It's because you did not let the music rule the decisions.  Your song sucks because you did not get out of the music's way.  

And your song is not amazing because you went analog, and threw off the "shackles of technology." It's amazing because you got out of the music's way.  Maybe going analog gave you the needed perspective to let the music take control, preventing your ego from turning to arrogance and letting the music flow.  But that is about you, not technology.  And if that's what it takes to allow you to serve the song, then do it.  Go analog.  But don't for a moment  think that it's the technology that is making the music "happen, " or not.  That's all you.  It's why all the over processed crap might at first seem really cool, but then over time all fades away.  In the same way, though, if the computer inspires you in some way to harness the magic of the music, why turn away from it?  That's just as bad as using it as a crutch.  Maybe even worse.  How can you possibly justify turning your back on the music right in front of you just because you wanna throw those shackles off I mentioned earlier?  That's not musical.  That's just, forgive me, stupid.

Serve the song.  Serve the song.  SERVE THE SONG!  How you serve it is not the point, so long as you do.

This all has absolutely NOTHING to do with technology, by the way.  It's something far more pure. Technology is only a tool.  Or a crutch.  Your choice.  Serve the song and you will always know what to do.  Ok.  End of rant.  For now...

Too Much Technology?

A couple of years ago I started a blog.  On one level it was to feed my ego that I would be able to post all my "important" observations to legions of fans all over the world who were in various states of eagerness awaiting my every word or all things musical and related topics.  Ha!  On another level it was to see if I could not create a kind of journal.  This is more the truth.  I like the idea of my kids, and grand kids, etc. having something of an insight into who I was - at least musically - years from now.  Perhaps even when I'm gone.

I guess I'm at an age where I have begun to look both forward and back in equal measure (ooooohhh....that's a good lyric...I need to use that...anyway....) and I realize that I don't have nearly as much of that kind of thing from my own parents or theirs.  Not even musical elements, as they were not particularly musically inclined - but more of a sense of who they were. Perhaps this is a topic for another rant.  In any case....

As I pursued the blog, I also got more into other social media.  Facebook.  Twitter.  etc. and it began to evolve that my "blog as a journal" idea got usurped by a Facebook/Twitter journal of sorts.

The trouble is that while these are more convenient in many ways, their potentially dramatically smaller amount of content makes them less comprehensive, and to me, in many ways, inherently less intimate (the irony of my publishing this blog publicly not withstanding - I wanna be the humble, non-attention seeking guy - really, I do  - it just never seems to work out.  yikes!) Perhaps that's more an indication of my inability to be adequately succinct, but then again, perhaps that's just an accurate reflection of me, so why fight it?

We live in an age where there are actually so many ways to communicate that it all kinda washes over us. There is so much that in many ways we get nothing. (hmmmm...another good lyric there...)

I know I am not the first to encounter this.  Or the last.  And my rant here is very much proof of that.  But for some reason I feel that if I rant here, I may get lucky enough to get to a point where I can more consistently posting into this journal for my kids.  And my legions of fans? ugh!  ;)

It's an adventure.  Like writing a song a week I suppose.  You never know quite where it's gong to lead, but that's not the point.  The point is to keep moving, and that's what I intend to do.  Wish me luck!

Rebooting My Creativity - A Song A Week

Sometime in 2011 it dawned on me that I had not really produced anything of my own for a number of years. Somewhere between the arrival of Gray and Tanner and the desire to evolve CMAS, my own creativity got - unintentionally, I would like to think - lost in it all.

I suppose that characterizing the matter as "my creativity" may not be entirely accurate, as certainly I created CMAS and that was not exactly a non-creative endeavor.  Far from it.  And to be fair, I did write and record several tracks for a bit after Gray was born.  Even did a good bit of shows for a time.  But overall things had gotten, like much in life can, stagnant.

So maybe it was just timing.  Maybe some kind of preemptive midlife crisis of some sort. Whatever.  The point is that, whatever the reason, I was not writing much music for quite an extended period of time, and that began to weigh on me more dramatically the more I began to consider it a fact.

And so I began a kind of experiment with this new year of 2012.  I resolved that  I would write at least one complete song every week.   No excuses.  Every week.  No matter what else was going on.  At least one song.

As I am now approaching the midway point I can honestly say it has been quite a journey.  One I'm so glad I have embarked on.  In fact as it has progressed my only regret it that I did not start it years earlier.

For decades now I have felt that music was a kind of spiritual event for me.  It has always been,  in a very real sense, my religion.  My connection to the universe.  My direct tie to the Divine.  I was not always able to express that accurately - perhaps not even now - but none the less, it has proven true for me over and over again, and these past months have pretty much solidified what was already a very deep connection for me.  That alone has made it worth it.

And this creative reboot has provided so much more.  And not just, as I write this, 26 songs in 23 weeks - though that's pretty cool too.  It has made my writing process so much stronger.  I feel a musical confidence that I have been lacking for some time.  In fact on occasion I like to look back over the charts for these new songs and am constantly struck at how much I enjoy them.

Of course there is that matter of what to do with them all.  One of the things that became quite clear to me early on was that for it to work I could only approach the week's song as a writer.  If I got too in to the role of Performer, or Technical Engineer, or certainly Producer, I would be sunk.  In fact that has been one of the other benefits - a significant strengthening of my ability to partition certain skills as needed.  Or put better - my ability to focus on serving the song.  At the end of the day I can confidently say that is exactly what I am doing.  That is exactly what the priority is: serve the song.

It's pleasantly allowed me to move towards decimating my arrogance - something I sadly still struggle with - while reinforcing my ego.  The distinction is vital to creative pursuits in my mind.  The former is always ultimately self-destructive and terribly "unmusical," while the latter is essential to actually motivate the creative process.

Anyway, I am close to starting to record these songs.  Very close.  In fact all this creative activity has sparked another, interesting "diversion" as I am now ever closer to unlocking what I would call a great music performance mystery:  how to use technology in such a way to maintain the singer-songwriter paradigm, but far bigger in musical scope and sound, while still keeping the song as the priority, not the technology.  Again, serve the song.  More on this in another post.  Soon, I hope.  It's pretty cool though, I gotta tell you.  More soon...

Anyway, 26 songs is a lot over 23 weeks.  (Oh, for those wondering about the math, I had a week were I got 3 and other where I got 2 so that's how that all adds up to 23 in 26.)  And though I feel it quite possible am I actually writing the same song over and over again, one thing I am very pleased with is that none of them are "comical" or throw-aways.  I feel all are legitimate.  None of them have been less than significant as far as I can tell -though some weeks have been tougher than others to have the song fully complete by midnight on Sunday.  But in a very real way that has been the point.  As the weeks go on I find my writing not only improving, but it's gotten more efficient.  I can "find" song faster now.  Or perhaps it finds me faster as I am learning how ti get out of my own way.

Speaking of which, though perhaps imperfectly, this reboot has also allowed me to channel a lot of unfocused energy.  I find that lately ideas may slow for a time, but the suddenly there will be a flow of ideas that can happen so rapidly that I know I have lost several great ones along the way.  Even with my iPhone constantly with me, I lose them all the time.  A disappointment for sure, but on the other hand I still have been able to capture so much in it's raw state that I do not foresee a time when meeting the goal of a song a week will be unattainable.  Sure it's still somewhat daunting as I think of it, but clearly it's working.  Besides the real work is starting to take the shape of getting them all recorded.  And that looks to be like a whole other fantastic musical reboot that I'm soon to embark on.

Lift: An exercise in "does/should this matter to anyone other than me?"

"Lift" will be (is?), in some ways, a departure, and in others, a kind of musical reunion. For a while I felt I needed to move away from my more Art/Prog-Rock tendencies. I was having a very difficult time aligning my sense of being a singer/songwriter and those more "artful" musical interests. That's not to say I am particularly artful - though I'd like to think so - but I certainly have a great affinity for many of the Prog-Rock genre.

I am huge fan of musicians like Asia, Genesis, Yes, Peter Gabriel and so many others. For the longest time I have always wanted to be able to create that kind of musical atmosphere, but always felt I was coming up short. Actually, I should also mention that I am a big fan of the intricate orchestrations of bands like Iron Maiden. The orchestral nature of their music has always been very inspiring to me. There are of course countless other bands and artists (The Beatles, Queen, Toto, Flecktones, The Who, etc.) that are significant to me; but it would take me pages to get through them all.

In any case, with "Lift" I have decided not to worry at all, on any level, how the material might or might not translate to a live performance. Not only has this been very liberating from a creative standpoint, but it has also allowed me to somewhat rethink my entire creative process. "Lift," like much of my work, has its share of love songs and ballads - can't get away from who I am in that regard (and don't really want to) - but there is also a fair share of other subject matter as well.

The project is still a work-in-progress, so to some extent everything I write here is really just speculation as I am still waiting to hear what the final result really will be; but what I am confident in is that "Lift" is strong on all levels. Very strong. Only time will tell if others agree or not. Either way, as long as people are listening, it's all good.

Pandora's Box: How the greatest CMAS concert (so far) might also be its worst

Two weeks ago tonight CMAS held its final concert of the 2009-2010 season.  It was, in a word, amazing. I don't say that lightly at all.  It was a culmination of so many factors into a single, successful evening of music that I am still a bit dumbfounded over the entire thing.

The evening consisted of over 120 minutes of all original. all student produced and performed music; and the show itself (also, all student produced) was about as over the top as anything I have ever seen anywhere.  I suppose the most notable addition was a 25 foot high, 40 foot wide, video projection system behind the performer - thanks once again to Harkins Theatres for all the continued support (Dan Harkins is, as always, beyond kind - Kirk Griffin, their chief engineer, as well - more on them another time).  It was stunning.  Just stunning to see it all come together.  And it was an absolute triumph for all involved, and an certainly a  huge honor for me to be part of it.

But here's the thing - and I have been justifiably accused of destroying some professional relationships over this kind of thing - to me, as high as the bar has now been set, we can still do it far better.  I'll save the specifics of how for another time, but it's the general concept that got me writing here: the potential Pandora's box of expextaitons.

While the show on 5/20/10 was beautiful, it was also the first time we had put in so many of the elements that I know we can do all of them far better if we simply are willing to not only look objectively, but also take the needed, and in many cases, fairly simple steps to significantly build upon what we have already done.  And this is the part that has been a death-knell for some of my professional relationships: perfection is a great goal, but it is not actually attainable. Being satisfied is akin to promoting the status quo, and I simply do not believe in status quo.  Things are either getting better, or getting worse.  Those are the only two options.  No exceptions.  Staying the same is akin to getting worse as far as I am concerned.

Yes, acknowledge the accomplishments and revel in the successes as they happen; but I firmly believe that every time you take another step closer to "perfect," the bar of that perfection moves that much further up as well.  At the point at which the bar stops moving, or worse, you are satisfied, it is time to stop.  Needless to say, many of my professional acquaintances over the years have not been able to hold a similar view.  My "arrogance" on this topic makes me feel only bad for them.  To be fair though, the relationships that suffered the most over this kind of thing were with people who I would describe as very "unmusical;" very non-creative - though, and again, I freely admit the arrogance of this statement, they think they are musical and creative, but clearly are not.  That said, I am not sure I am actually a "pure" personality of music and creativity either - even though I'd like to be.  But, as usual, I digress.

Back to the Pandora's box:  The further we push these shows, the greater the expectation is from our audience.  That is not a bad thing - not at all.  But as we start the 2010-2011 season in a few short months I wonder if the audience will allow for the learning curve that is needed over the course of the total season on the part of the students. The audience, perhaps ironically, and perhaps without realizing it, is actually in line with my view of perfection.  The question is will they allow the trials and time needed to get us to take those next steps.  If they do, the truth is that despite this amazing last show, they have not seen anything yet - I can safely say that there are at least four more major evolutions to the show coming in the not too distant future - not that I will give any details away here and/or now - to saw nothing of the studio progressions that will soon eclipse the shows.

If the audience does not, well there's the Pandora's box for you.  The only way to ensure we make it happen and give the audience what they not only want, but deserve, is to consciously keep moving forward.  Can't allow ego or arrogance to get in the way.  Call it like it is and move forward.  Keep pushing.  Always.  It's not about besmirching the efforts or reputations of anyone - like I said, revel in the well deserved successes as they come along - but if you stay there too long (and I define "too long" as the moment a single element is found to be vialbe for specific improvement) then you are back to status quo.  And then, really, what's the point?

I am so proud that the bulk of the CMAS program's students resist status quo - whether they know it or not.  They resist taking the striving for improvement as arrogance.  They seem to see it for what it is: the continuing search for bettering the end result.  Maybe the lesson really is that the Pandora's box is really just that: a box.  Keep yourself "outside the box" and the box really cannot have any impact.

It's all in the numbers: my recent epifany about class size in schools

So lately I've been having lots of conversations with people about the CMAS program - how it started,where it's going, why I structured the curriculum the way I did, etc.  Inevitably, one of the questions is about how the current "traditional" program at the school is dealing with the success of CMAS.

The truth is, not well.  While CMAS is certainly going through some pretty massive growing pains, overall the general path is forward.  Fast.  So much so that I have been wondering if I need to reign it in just a bit to ensure that we maintain the level of quality I feel is essential -bit that is another topic.

The point is, I was recently talking with some folks from the Conservatory of Recording Arts and Sciences (my buddy Brock, and the school's Administrator Kirt Hamm - also a great guy) about how CRAS could do more to reach out to other music teachers in the community - to say nothing of their support of CMAS, generally - and we got to talking about my transition from the traditional program to full implementation of CMAS.  The context was more about helping other, interested teachers do something similar, even if on a smaller scale; but in the course of that discussion something so unbelievably obvious struck me that I am kinda ashamed I have not talked about before whenever the topic of the current traditional program at the school comes up:

(I wanna preface this by stating clearly that this is definitively not a commentary on any other teacher - just a statement of some facts.)

In the years just prior to the full transition to CMAS I was simultaneously running what would become the bulk of CMAS as well as the complete band and orchestra at the school. There was also another teacher facilitating several other classes that would eventually evolve into part of CMAS as well while also running the choir program at the school.  Full disclosure: for many years this other person was my wife Michele, who to be frank, is a far better teacher than I in all areas, but I digress.

The point is that during this time there were big numbers of students in the CMAS -like classes as well as strong numbers in the band, orchestra and choir.  All working together somehow.  All viable educationally - despite the compelling argument that I was at best a mediocre band/orchestra teacher.  So if the numbers have diminished since in the traditional classes, I just don't buy it that it was CMAS's fault.

Look, the job of the traditional music teacher at the school - at any school -  is very tough; and having done it for years, I can vouch for the fact that it stretches the traditional teacher far too thin to possibly succeed at their best level all the time in all aspects.  But blaming CMAS for the drop in numbers is not only unfair, it's untrue.

OK.  I just wanted to get that out.  My personal goal, if I am very lucky, once the CMAS curriculum is fully implemented and running (likely within the next 18 months or so) is to help revitalize the traditional program.  Who knows, maybe reinvent it a bit...if they'll let me.

McCartney got it right

The story goes that after being repeatedly criticized by many music critics, and John Lennon for that matter as well, for writing too many "light weight" songs, Paul McCartney wrote "Silly Love Songs" as kind of not so subtle response.  As much as I am a huge fan of John's - really, all the Beatles (yes, even Ringo- Ringo is a true visionary as far as I am concerned) - I have always found this particular story very informing as a writer.

On many levels the message to me is, "stick to your guns," to say nothing of the notion of what's wrong with writing about love, anyway?  In point of fact Lennon wrote countless classic love songs himself, and the reality is that there are far more hit love songs than anything else.  Love works.  On so many levels, it just works.

There is even a compelling argument to be made that all music is about love - and I genuinely believe that to be the case. Even protest songs can easily be viewed, without losing even the slightest bit of their potency, as love songs: in simplest terms, love of humanity.  In point of fact, my strong feeling is that there is a very real and direct connection through music - all music - to a, forgive the cliche, higher power.  At the risk of being too melodramatic, that really is the heart of all of it for me, and I suppose it manifests itself in all I do. Everything.  Or at least I hope it does. Music is love.  It's Godly.  Pure.  I make this point seriously, despite its obvious self-righteous tone.  But in the end, what else could possibly be the point of music?

As I have been writing more and more, for what seems to be a never to be completed CD at this rate, I keep coming back to this notion of music, and love songs and all of it.  In fact, it reminds me of a former associate of mine who used to take what seemed to be great joy in endlessly mocking me over the fact I write so many love songs.  He liked to present himself as very erudite - regarding music and pretty much everything else - I lost track of the number of times he would lecture me about how I should be living my life and such - likely a strong reason why that association eventually unraveled; but I digress.

The point is that in the end, I felt only sorry for him.  Imagine someone so very smart but so very myopic as to be unable to appreciate something as simple as the sentiment of a love song.  I don't just mean my songs - one could certainly claim they are at best mediocre.  I mean the concept itself seemed less than worthy to him.  And as I look back at his behavior with other people, even his own family, everything seemed so trivialized all the time.  So impure.

Now I realize the hypocrisy of judging him in one breath while complaining of his judging of me in the other, but the difference to me is intent.  To not see the point in love songs.  To not feel they had anything new or viable to say, as he would tell me, seems, well, sad.  I am grateful to know what real love is.  I hope my former associate finds it within himself to someday seek it out and reciprocate it.

As I said at the start, McCartney got it right, and I, for one, intend to follow his lead.  So in the interest of full disclosure I thought I would include one of my favorite photos - one that I find inspiring beyond words:

 

If you cannot see the true essence of love and why it matters in that image, well, I don't even know what to say.  And OK, while that photo of my parents is truly inspiring to me, so is this one, even if it is more predicable that I would post it in this context (yes, I am ridiculously lucky):

The perfect piece of gear

So as things have started to calm down just a bit from the arrival of Tanner into our family, I find myself drifting back into my musical mindset. I suppose I am the type who never really leaves it, for better of worse, but in any case, Tanner's birth (he and the whole family are doing quite well, by the way) has gotten me thinking about the idea of "new beginnings."

This has carried over even into my teaching as I have been reworking the student recording labs these past days to make them more functional and efficient for their use. Kind of a lab reset or new beginning of its own.

In any case, as we've been setting up gear and such, students have been asking me questions about the individual pieces and such and how I designed the labs and all manner of related questions. One of the topics has been "what do we still need?" It's an interesting area to me, and one that I have decided to broach more directly with them over the coming weeks.

The truth is, the technology of audio is always evolving and changing. No sooner does a piece of gear get released does it seem like another one comes along that is an "improvement." The fact is that there is always more gear to buy. Always a new tool that can improve the end result.

I am not saying that is a bad thing. But over time I have started to wonder where the line really is between the gear we need and the gear we want. Case-in point: preamps.

For the last many years I have been, like so many others, on a quest for the perfect preamp for my studio. The ultimate absurdity of the notion is not lost on me, but I still find myself wondering what might work best for my varied needs. I have been lucky enough to have a lot of friends who have great expertise in such things-certainly more than me-and have been even luckier to be able to borrow any number of pieces to work with and get a sense of their sound in application.

I have no doubt that my assessment may change or evolve over time, but as I write this I have, as of late, had a recurring thought that has grown ever more persistent over time: there is no perfect preamp. This idea of the best combination of mic/preamp/converter is actually becoming funny to me. I think it must have something to do with the fact that, atthe end of the day, I seem always drawn to the song over the production.

I know, I know, seems a bit off given all the time I spend either in production for myself or others, or the fact that I teach so many students about the skills required for excellent production; but none-the-less, there it is. Even if I stipulate that I am not very good at it, I always view myself first as a writer. I tend to want the music to inform the production, not the other way around. I suspect that is one of the principle reasons that my music tends to be so acoustic based. For all the technology I like to use, I tend to want it transparent to a large extent.

To be fair, I am still trying to get my head fully around the implications of this as it relates to the current CD I am attempting to complete, but my gut tells my that the heart of this is accurate, so I feel compelled to go with it.

The gear does matter. There is some truth in notion of "garbage in garbage out" but in the end I feel that rather than search for the perfect piece of gear, it's far better to be searching for the perfect song.

Learning curve - student musical maturity

Last night my students put on one of their CMAS concerts and, in addition to proving they are able to continually raise the bar each time with regard to their writing, performance,  and production skills, they also demonstrated a new kind of musical maturity that I had not seen yet from them.

The shows themselves are pretty musically diverse since there are so many styles and tastes across the student demographic of the program.  This is made all the more pronounced since they can only perform original material at the event so they, like most of us, write what they enjoy.  This is all good, and after so many years of this, not really very suprising to me.

What was interesting about last night was that for the first time there seemed to be this universal sense that no matter the performer, no matter the style or skill level, every act was going to be given the same "start treatment."  Keep in mind that the program is so big (a great problem to have) that many students working the production end of the show do no know all of the performers that well, if at all.  This is significant and it was very interesting to simply observe them transition from "I'm going to do a good job just for my friends," to a far more mature, "I'm going to do a good job for everyone, because there are hundreds of people here watching this show and I need to make sure they get their money's worth."

It was even more impressive when we did the post show debrief that we always have to hear comments solely related not to, "I want 'this' or 'that' next time for me," but "I have an idea how we can train the newer student's in the program to learn to be more involved in the success of the event."

They are starting to see the forest-for-the-trees and it's pretty cool.  Of course, each time they raise the bar it moves that much higher, so it'll be interesting to see if they can maintain this for their next show in mid-December.

Wolves and Sheep (update)

Somewhere in the chaos I had the idea that at least part of this blog would be to document the creation of my next album, "Wolves and Sheep," so taking a bit of a break from my music education observations, here's the current scoop:

So right now there are about 15 songs in various states of completion - in other words, the basic framework is complete, though there may be some minor re-writing to do on either the music, lyrics, or both.  Of those, 5 or so are fully composed, though I suppose once I get to tracking them in the studio, a whole 'nother set of options will likely open up.  There are also a literally countless group of riffs and ideas that may or may not turn into fully formed pieces.  Also, in general, nothing is for sure till the song is fully realized in production, so certainly those numbers are gonna change.

In any case, the seemingly endless stops and starts on this for the past year or so seem to be finally aligning themselves into a workable plan and the project is beginning to take a form of sorts.  The basic idea is to create a two part CD.  The first half will be the music presented in "normal" mixes for standard audio systems like home stereos, cars, etc.  The second half will be the same material presented in crossfed mixes specifically intended for headphone listening, which, thanks to the massive popularity of mp3 players, has become an equally typical listening environment.

Of course with the limitation of only 80 minutes available on a CD, this really means only 40 minutes of unique material.  Interestingly, this is having the unintended effect making me be perceived by some as a kind of recording arts purist as that is pretty much the limit that was experienced during the years when vinyl records were the standard format for distribution.  To be fair, I probably am a bit of a purest in general, but it was only recently that I found it evidenced in such a way.

Ok, so enough the trivial, the real essence of this project seems to be that the sound itself has evolved significantly over the past year or so.  As an example, the rhythm tracks are all being dominated by really cool world percussion grooves that I have to say have been a blast to compose, play and record.  There are still drum kits within the textures, but there is a different kind of life to these tunes largely due to the timbre shift.  Another element taking hold is the use of choirs.  Full on, massive choirs, in some cases, not just the expected, if not typical, vocal harmonies and overdubbing.  Certainly this is adding a significant load to the production end of things; but, man, it's also really pushing me musically, which, all the rest of it aside, I find just fantastic.

The last part of all of it may be the more "ambient" material that has been emerging lately.  It seems to be an offshoot of a lot of the looping I seem to be fond of when performing live, but that is not always a true representation of the original recording of the song.   Hard to tell at this point where that is gonna lead, but I guess that's the beauty of all this.  As it evolves, I can continue to update.

A working theory

I recently had the opportunity to do some final testing on my crossfeeding headphone mixing procedures and I am happy to report that it is, so far, remarkably successful.  The basics of this last testing was pretty simple.  I produced an entire 23 track CD - about 70 minutes of music with a wide variance in style/genre - entirely using my crossfeeding methods. 

The proof of the success was equally simple.  The sample tracks of the final CD have gone over unbelievably well. The implications of this are pretty significant.  The most obvious are that I am now capable of doing high end studio work pretty much anywhere, anytime - a blissfully freeing notion.  It also means an incredibly important tool for my students.  It means that the cost of a "pure" room for mixing, for anyone, is now rooted almost entirely in the cost of a high quality set of headphones - imagine, for example, the benefit to college students studying audio production living in dorms. (FYI, Earbuds, and anything by Bose, are not going to be acceptable for any kind of quality result due to a lack of uniform frequency response and a significant tendency to color the sound, respectively.)  There is also the possibility of creating a version of the process within the RTAS, VST, and AU plug-in formats which might mean a viable monetizing opportunity.

Anyway, as this all begins to play out, it is really exciting to know that the results are being so well received.  Makes me feel like there are countless possibility opening up.

All or nothing

I had a very interesting conversation with a friend of mine today about how music education is changing. My friend, Evan Tobias, is a Music Education professor at ASU.  For what it is worth, as much as there are people who claim I am a "cutting edge" music educator, Evan has me beat by far.

Anyway, we were talking about how there are all these backwards perceptions of music that seem to permeate educators on all levels, and then these same people seem so shocked when they are forced to come to grips the realities of a changing musical world.  Evan is far more diplomatic than I am, but I could not help but to refer to them as fundamentalists.

We talked about all kinds of permutations, but they all seemed to come down to a single overriding concept:  the notion that music is not, or should not, evolve is ridiculous.  Think about it.  Most music education is solely focused on the music and music techniques that have long since past.  That is not to say they are irrelevant - that kind of thinking actually makes me just as upset (and I think Evan too, though I do not want to speak for him - check his blog to get more specifics from him.)  It's more about this prevailing sense of some music is valid and some is not.  Drives me crazy.

And let's not forget that this goes both ways.  I spend so much time working with my more "contemporary" students on seeing the value of "classical" music to their own work.  A tip if you are ever having to do something like that.  Approach it from the standpoint of the composer's motivation. What was being said with the music? That kind of insight is far more universal than you might think.  Using that approach I have turned a huge number of rock oriented musicians into fairly well versed classical fans.  Frankly once the door to universal musical validity is opened, it seems like a flood gate that cannot be closed.  Also works the other way with more "traditional" students as well.

Evan and I spoke for a quite a bit of time about all this, and basically decided that the musical standards we have all come to know are not the problem.  It's the application of those standards that is the real issue.  By the way, I am fully aware of my bias on this subject - I did, in a very small way, "pioneer" a new type of music education, but still, any time we are deliberately setting limits...well, that just seems so "unmusical" to me, if I can be that cliche.

All music students should learn to view all music as valid.  All of it.  There should certainly be personal preferences and tastes to guide us, but the notion that some is more viable than others is very hard for me to reconcile.

I must confess that our conversation was hardly confrontational as we both hold pretty much the same views on this subject, but to that end, I think Evan's idea of a kind of consortium of like minded thinkers in this area could really help.  I cannot believe he and I are the only ones that think this way.

Lots more from me on this subject, I am sure, in the future.  Stay tuned.

The State of Music Education (part 2)

The irony of the whole thing is that, if I am to be totally honest, a great deal of my motivation for creating the Contemporary Music and Sound program (CMAS) at the school was purely selfish.  After a decade of teaching I found myself longing for a better way to musically connect.  For a number of years it had almost felt hypocritical to be pushing students in musical directions that I myself no longer felt were valid.

And I got very, VERY lucky. When I started at the school I was brought on just to be the "band guy."  A position that I enjoyed but it was never part of my true musical DNA, as it is with most excellent band directors.  I was always more captivated by the possibilities of full symphonies - something I would eventually bring to the school - at one point as many as two full ensembles, actually.

In any case, shortly after I arrived I was asked to take over the guitar program - a popular if not complete waste of time for the kids as there was no defined curriculum of any kind.  That took a bit of time to correct, but regardless, from there it all kinda moved along logically (except for the eventual over-stretched part of things for me as I began to take on way too much.)  Kids in the guitar classes started to want to know if I might be able to teach them how to write songs since I was always playing mine for them.  That lead to a songwriting class, which became hugely popular, in no small part due to the live events we started to put on that soon balloned into a kind of massive production by high school standards.  (We are now a fully student produced event with a 25K watt PA, 8 moving lights, hazers, full 16 channel sound and 3 camera recording, etc. - very "Spinal Tap" at this point.)

From there it transformed again as students began to ask me if I might be able to also teach them recording production techniques to go along with what they were already doing with live sound.  Keep in mind I was still running the band and orchestra programs at the same time - badly, I would think, to be fair.

The real problem now though was that in order to teach that kind of thing we would need quite a bit of additional resources.  I have since learned that a CMAS program is far less expensive to run per student than a band or orchestra in the long run,  but the initial investment is a bit much.  So here's the really lucky part:  I decided to write a complete, detailed, four year curriculum outlining every conceivable facet of CMAS.

And it is a very tough curriculum.  CMAS is not an "easy grade."  Not even close.  I have been told many people who have since reviewed it that it is almost overwhelming the amount of expertise that is required of the students.  Almost, they say, but do not change it.  There is still a significant amount of "standard" elements: music theory, instrumental techniques, etc.  But it is the repackaging of that material into something contemporary and immediate that seems to have caught the attention of the students.

Did I mention the lucky part? I had been getting a lot of encouragement from my administration and some fellow teachers that there were some options for funding.  Specifically that the Career and Technical Education folks for both the district and the state were looking for ways to better incorporate fine arts.  They loved my concept and curriculum.  What I thought was a somewhat lark of an idea quickly became the model for everyone.  It has been an amazing ride so far.  We have a huge and growing recording lab of 16 ProTools stations and tons of outboard gear and on and on.  More importantly, the student interest is massive.  So much so that I cannot teach them all, even on an extended contract.  Don't get me wrong, it's a great problem to have, but I know full well it is not me.  It is the program.  The standards I wrote have also been adopted by the state, which added a huge amount of educational credibility, and we are soon to be offering college credit for the 3rd and 4th years of the program as well.  Another huge credibility factor.  CMAS has changed the music education paradigm. For the better.  I feel very lucky to be part of it.
(end part 2)

The State of Music Education (part 1)

After 12 years as a public school music educator I would hardly call myself an expert in the field.  That said, I have not only noticed some trends, but I have been lucky enough to move with them and in the process, perhaps, been able to, at lease in some way, change the paradigm.  At least a little.

I suppose this is really about MY state of music education; but anyway, after completing a Masters in Conducting from the U of A in Tucson - something I am still very proud of - I began a journey as a music educator that has proven to be far more life changing than I ever could have anticipated.  In the most obvious aspects, I met my wife, also a teacher, along the way, which has now blossomed into our son Gray and soon Tanner, so that part of the "life change" is pretty easy to see.

But the more subtle changes have occurred over the past years as I have both struggled and, I think now in many ways, succeeded in finding a viable balance between my true musical self and my desire to help students further develop their own creative process.  It sounds horribly cliche, but, perhaps sadly, I truly believe in it.  Regardless of where or who, regardless of if I am actually any good at it or not, my real job is to help others find and develop their creative instincts.  Whatever they go on to do later in life, the pursuit of further refined creative instincts is at the top of the list of my priorities.

So I no longer direct orchestras as often as I would like, and though I miss it, if I am being truly honest, I am not certain I was ever very good at it from a technical standpoint.  Which is not to say that I did not afford my students educationally beneficial opportunities - I am certain I did. But I am acutely aware that, even with the best of intentions, I may not have always been the best at it.

And after many years of growth for both them and me, it became obvious that a change was needed.  I clearly hit a wall a few years ago. I no longer felt I could musically connect with the students as effortlessly as before, and as I look back I realize that I was solely responsibly for that growing lack of connection - not the students. Perhaps I hit that wall that so many educators hit after about 5 years, I do not know.  If so, at least I was in year 11 when it happened, so I can claim I beat the odds a bit, no?

In the years prior to that I had been somewhat split between the "traditional" classes of band and orchestra - which I truly loved, and the more "contemporary" classes of Songwriting and Analysis, which I also loved and found to be more internally driving.  And then, a kind of miracle that is rare in education happened: I found myself in a situation to develop and pioneer a new type of music program.  And out of that came what we now call "Contemporary Music and Sound."

To call CMAS successful would be a great understatement.  To call me the reason for its success, would be laughable.  In so many ways I am now like a guy how is handing out free money - it's not me they love, it's the money.  I can take credit for the concept and the curriculum, but CMAS works on its own, and that may actually be the most significant part of my accomplishment in creating it:  it does not need me to work.
(end part 1)

Crossfeed the what?

So for some time now I have been toying with the seemingly simple concept of being able to do accurate audio mixing with headphones as opposed to standard monitors, the usual term is called "Crossfeeding" and over time I have become a huge fan of it.  It started out as just a kind of frivolity - I just thought it might be fun to see what was possible.

But in more recent times it started to become a more significant and legitimate goal.  The driving force was really the birth of my first son Gray.  My wife Michele has always been pretty tolerant of the studio work I do at home - in fact, she is pretty accomplished on ProTools herself - but when Gray was born a bit over two years ago, it became obvious that a change was needed if I was ever going to be able to get any work done consistently.  To be fair, "Dude, "as we sometimes call him, has a pretty good sense of what works in a mix himself; but let's face it, he's still just a two year old, and daddy's work only keeps him interested for so long.  Plus, I'm used to working late at night, and that train pretty much left the station once Gray was in the picture, just from a purely practical standpoint.

My other motivation was to create a viable tool for my students to do their work. (I created a Contemporary Music program a few years ago for a public high school that has proven incredibly successful - I got very lucky; more on that in another post very soon)  Anyway, there is a practical matter for them both in the recording labs at the school, and also, like me, if they choose to do work at home. So between my own curiosity and needs, and those of my students, it - accurate headphone mixing - became a more pressing priority recently.

Fortunately, the concept has been around for quite some time, originally gaining some prominence, at least in theory, in the early 1970s, so there was a lot of data to cull and develop the methodology I am currently employing.   I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge a very serious piece of work from John Conover dealing with the spacial distortion research of Siegfried Linkwitz.  This pretty much is what allowed me to create the final, successful utility for ProTools.

There are a lot of products these days, particularly higher end headphone amps, and even headphones themselves, making use of various algorithms to create the same effect I have generated, but I find myself now somewhat addicted to the tweaking process and it has been fun to work to fully refine my own method.

So as my new Crossfeeding obsession grows - not insignificant towards my motivation is the success I am having at accurately being able to to mix with a good set f headphones - I began to formulate a way to perhaps rethink my entire creative process as well, not just the way I mix.  And thus I came upon "Crossfeed the Mix."  A kind of band mentality, even though it's pretty much just me for now.  I have no idea where it will take me, but it has been very freeing already not to think of my creative output as me, but as "Crossfeed..." Perhaps it is just my imagination, but as I tell my students, the ability to be able to push your creative process is a powerful and wonderful thing if you handle it the right way.

As I begin work on a new CD, I plan to document my progress in these posts as well as the progress of my other creative ventures, including the music education program I mentioned above and my production company too.  Certainly, some family items will make appearances as well, and to that end I figure if nothing else, years from now, should I proved disciplined to keep this up, these posts will help serve as a way for my kids (and grand kids someday) to learn more about me.  Not a bad motivator that one either.

A place to begin...

Is it just me, or does it seem like these days everyone is looking for a way to reinvent themselves?  OK, that was way too rhetorical.  Of course we are.  Well certainly I am; at least to some extent anyway.  I guess I have hit some kind of creative rut of sorts.  I suppose it is not uncommon; and in many ways, I'm just going through a "phase" that I bet lots of people hit at one point or another.  Funny thing is, no matter how much I acknowledge its commonality, it still seems really significant as I am experiencing it.

So here's the quick rundown: 38 years old.  Amazing family - sorry, gotta brag: totally hot wife who puts up with me for unknown reasons, wonderful 2 year old son (and another on the way), 2 goofy but very lovable dobermans, etc. etc.  I'm actually far happier than I deserve to be.  I am even lucky enough to spend most of my time either creating music or helping others learn to tap into their own creative process and make their own music. And, miraculously, all the bills get paid, and we have a nice roof over our heads.

Like I said, I'm far happier than I deserve to be.  But where I have run into trouble is with the various attempts at artistic (music) self-expression that have resulted in varying levels of success. In some ways I'd like to think of myself a simply very driven towards a goal.  In others, I wonder if I am not just obsessive over a fantasy.

And so, my plan with this blog is to see where the middle ground of all that might be.  Somewhere there is a point of synergy between my dreams and my needs and I'm hopeful that these little "rants" might help further foster a sense of viability on my journey. Should be a fun ride, regardless.