This weekend a local bike store had an expo of all the 2005 gear. They had reps from a lot of the manufactures there as well as draws to win stuff. One of the draws was for a virtual trainer. You put your bike on the stand, put a TV in front of it, hook it all up to a computer and pedal away. You steer the bike on the screen and it keeps track of how you do around a virtual course. I did the 1.6km course in 2:15 for an average speed of 42.6 km/hr. The top guy did it in 1:55 for an average of just over 50 km/hr.
When I finished I totally spent; I could barely walk down the stairs. My lungs, throat and gums hurt, I suspect I was a bit dehydrated before I even started. Keep in mind I didn't have to ride that hard. The idea was you try the trainer and get entered into a draw to win it. Didn't matter how fast you went. But no, I had to go all out.
This is the reason I don't compete: I want to win. Giving it my best effort (which I really did) isn't enough. Not participating is better than losing. In this case there was no way I was going to post the best time. The top rider was a competitive road racer who stopped by in the middle of a training ride. But still, I feel stupid for not winning.
The strange thing about all this is that I don't feel this way about music. I walk past hundreds of gig posters every day. The ones that annoy me have photos of smug, young hipsters with trendy hair and pseudo-rebellious cloths/piercings/tattoos/whatnot. The image that this conveys to me is one of superiority. "We're cooler than you" seems to be the look they're going for. Or put another way: they're winners, in their own minds if nowhere else. Which of course implies that there must be losers.
I hope that no one ever gets the idea I feel that way. That somehow I'm better than them because I play in a band. Music should be about inclusiveness. While I'll admit that in the past I've felt smug in my obscure musical knowledge, I've outgrown that attitude. My favorite musical conversation is one where I can share what I know with others and in turn learn something myself.
In performance inclusiveness is also the goal. The bass player and principle song writer in my old band used to intro us with "We're the Blah, Blah, Blah's* and you're not!" I hated that. Musical experience is the sum of the performers, songs and audience. All are equally important. A philosophical question: If a band makes music in a forest and there's no one around to hear it, are they just masturbating? It sure feels that way sometimes. Not always of course, sometimes there's joy simply in the doing of it. But like all things it's better with people watching... er, I mean...yah, abandoning that metaphor and moving on...
I'm having trouble reconciling these two aspects of my personality. How can I be both competitive and not? Is it because I've defined the goal of music to include more than myself? Is it that simple? Or is it because I'm a mess of contradicting impulses and ideals just like everyone else? Or a bit of both?
Do I contradict myself?
Very well, then, I contradict myself;
(I am large—I contain multitudes.)
Walt Whitman
Maybe I should take this approach, seemed to work for him.
*not our real name
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Well, not exactly final
Sure, you think you've done a good job. You think the new part you added to the melody of R ubber D ucky is pretty interesting. Then you play it for your band mates and there's an awkward silence. When pressed, each of them say they thought you'd played it wrong or perhaps added the wrong track during mixing.
Yah know, I thought these folks were musicians. I thought that maybe I didn't need to explain beforehand that there was a new part. If I'd known how they were going to react I would have warned them. In soft tones, with soothing gestures to belay any confusion or fright they might have at the thought of something different.
In my mind I had pictured them hearing how the repeated figure goes subtly out of key as the chords change underneath. Their faces light up with understanding and delight as they realize this conflict of keys drives the tune towards the bridge.* But no. Their immediate thought is I've done something wrong. Fuckers.
To be fair we've been playing this tune the same way for a long time. But I kind of hoped they'd trust me enough to believe I wouldn't play them something that wasn't ready. Certainly not when I intro it with: "I'm pretty happy with this."
To me being a musician isn't just about listening, it's about hearing. My fellow tinnitus inflictors listened to what I'd done but failed to hear what it was all about. It's a small but disappointing failure on their part, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised.
It often feels like I'm surrounded by people who don't think. When I see or hear something unexpected the first thing that comes to mind is: "Why did they do it that way?" I like to come up with at least a plausible explanation for myself. It's fun in a mystery novel sort of way and helps prevent hasty misunderstandings.
Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of examples of my own mental failures. I don't think I'm a misunderstood genius or anything; the possibility exists that I'm the only person on the planet who would enjoy what I've done. On the other hand, I'm prepared to defend my artistic decisions. Odds are pretty good I'll have better arguments in favour of it than they have against.
Gah, not a good night.
*Bridge: a short section that connects two larger sections of music. Used to add variety and sometimes to smooth over transitions and key changes between sections. By going out of key (a few notes clash here and there) with the underlying chordal structure of the tune my new part creates tension. That tension resolves when the two parts return to the same key in the bridge.
Yah know, I thought these folks were musicians. I thought that maybe I didn't need to explain beforehand that there was a new part. If I'd known how they were going to react I would have warned them. In soft tones, with soothing gestures to belay any confusion or fright they might have at the thought of something different.
In my mind I had pictured them hearing how the repeated figure goes subtly out of key as the chords change underneath. Their faces light up with understanding and delight as they realize this conflict of keys drives the tune towards the bridge.* But no. Their immediate thought is I've done something wrong. Fuckers.
To be fair we've been playing this tune the same way for a long time. But I kind of hoped they'd trust me enough to believe I wouldn't play them something that wasn't ready. Certainly not when I intro it with: "I'm pretty happy with this."
To me being a musician isn't just about listening, it's about hearing. My fellow tinnitus inflictors listened to what I'd done but failed to hear what it was all about. It's a small but disappointing failure on their part, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised.
It often feels like I'm surrounded by people who don't think. When I see or hear something unexpected the first thing that comes to mind is: "Why did they do it that way?" I like to come up with at least a plausible explanation for myself. It's fun in a mystery novel sort of way and helps prevent hasty misunderstandings.
Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of examples of my own mental failures. I don't think I'm a misunderstood genius or anything; the possibility exists that I'm the only person on the planet who would enjoy what I've done. On the other hand, I'm prepared to defend my artistic decisions. Odds are pretty good I'll have better arguments in favour of it than they have against.
Gah, not a good night.
*Bridge: a short section that connects two larger sections of music. Used to add variety and sometimes to smooth over transitions and key changes between sections. By going out of key (a few notes clash here and there) with the underlying chordal structure of the tune my new part creates tension. That tension resolves when the two parts return to the same key in the bridge.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Finally!
Finished an acceptable demo track of R ubber D ucky! Damn, but that feels good. It's not perfect, certainly not radio-ready but it will do for.......? Hmmm, what is it for? We've never talked about it. I guess it might be time to get some paying gigs. It's been a while since I've been in a working band, be good to get back at it. If nothing else I'll be able to buy some new strings with the proceeds. Ah yes, such ambition, hope it doesn't go to my head.
As a bonus I mixed a pretty good version of F ranky and J ohnny. This is the tune where we show off our secret weapon: the fabulous E, drummer without peer. People are always saying how great we are, such good musicians. I think they're responding to E's musicianship. She really is the best of us and because she's the drummer most people don't notice why we sound so good.
F & J is designed to make E stand out. Fully half of the song is drum solo with the rest of us doing chord shots a la Wipeout. I find myself screwing up on this one when I listen to the drum part. Her innovation and execution blow me away and sometimes I forget to count the rests between shots.
Watching me standin' there like a slack-jawed idiot, drooling on myself, thinkin' "Wow!" as I miss the shots? Man, that'd be some entertaining for a paying audience. Maybe we're not ready for a real gig.
As a bonus I mixed a pretty good version of F ranky and J ohnny. This is the tune where we show off our secret weapon: the fabulous E, drummer without peer. People are always saying how great we are, such good musicians. I think they're responding to E's musicianship. She really is the best of us and because she's the drummer most people don't notice why we sound so good.
F & J is designed to make E stand out. Fully half of the song is drum solo with the rest of us doing chord shots a la Wipeout. I find myself screwing up on this one when I listen to the drum part. Her innovation and execution blow me away and sometimes I forget to count the rests between shots.
Watching me standin' there like a slack-jawed idiot, drooling on myself, thinkin' "Wow!" as I miss the shots? Man, that'd be some entertaining for a paying audience. Maybe we're not ready for a real gig.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Time is on my side, yes it is?
Still working on R ubber D ucky. As I go along I keep changing my part, improving it I hope. Unfortunately it slows things up a tad. I get these great ideas then I have to learn how to play them. It takes time.
One of the new parts is a repeating figure that's quite tricky to play accurately. I must have repeated it for 3 hours trying to get it right. The whole time I was working on it I was cursing myself for being such a poor guitarist. I mean, I've been playing for decades now, I felt like I should be able to nail it in no time.
The subjectivity of time is a strange thing. As I repeated the same phrase literally hundreds of times my personal timescape became smaller and smaller. The world was reduced down to those tiny fractions of a second that define the difference between playing it right and major sucking. To give you some idea of the time scale: the tune runs at around 180bpm* I was playing 16th notes so the correct duration for a note is 1/12 of a second. Holding the note for 1/13 of a second would be a mistake obvious to even to someone who doesn't listen to a lot of music.
When I'm focused that narrowly the time passing disappears. I was really shocked to look up at the clock and see that I'd been at it for two hours. The time just flew, and yet my inability to get a good take made me feel like I'd been playing guitar forever. At least in the sense that I'm not a novice. It feels like it should come easier considering how much of my life I've spent playing music.
This ping-ponging perception of time is really messing my head. I keep expecting to turn around to see a muttering rabbit with a watch running by.
*bpm= beats per minute. The rate of the basic pulse of the song. A 16th note in this case is 1/4 of a beat. Sounds odd, but trust me on this.
One of the new parts is a repeating figure that's quite tricky to play accurately. I must have repeated it for 3 hours trying to get it right. The whole time I was working on it I was cursing myself for being such a poor guitarist. I mean, I've been playing for decades now, I felt like I should be able to nail it in no time.
The subjectivity of time is a strange thing. As I repeated the same phrase literally hundreds of times my personal timescape became smaller and smaller. The world was reduced down to those tiny fractions of a second that define the difference between playing it right and major sucking. To give you some idea of the time scale: the tune runs at around 180bpm* I was playing 16th notes so the correct duration for a note is 1/12 of a second. Holding the note for 1/13 of a second would be a mistake obvious to even to someone who doesn't listen to a lot of music.
When I'm focused that narrowly the time passing disappears. I was really shocked to look up at the clock and see that I'd been at it for two hours. The time just flew, and yet my inability to get a good take made me feel like I'd been playing guitar forever. At least in the sense that I'm not a novice. It feels like it should come easier considering how much of my life I've spent playing music.
This ping-ponging perception of time is really messing my head. I keep expecting to turn around to see a muttering rabbit with a watch running by.
*bpm= beats per minute. The rate of the basic pulse of the song. A 16th note in this case is 1/4 of a beat. Sounds odd, but trust me on this.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
Remembrance and illusions
On Sunday the LUC and I went to our first opera of the season. I love saying "the season", like I'm the sort of person who has seasons. For me there's two seasons: slick tire zippy bicycle for dry pavement and studded knobby tire mountain bike for snow and ice. And for the record: I ride a bike year round because I choose not to own a car. But I digress.
The opera we saw was a special performance. It was The Emperor of Atlantis by composer Viktor Ullmann and librettist Petr Kien. It was preceded by a play about the creation of the work. In short, the opera was composed in the Therisienstadt Jewish ghetto during world war two. Composed in the kind of desperate squalor that we in the west today can only imagine. The authors didn't survive, they ended up in Auschwitz. On the stage floor and back wall the show's designers had placed a list of all the ghetto suicides from the time period of the play. For some, the conditions they were forced to endure were too much and yet for others those conditions produced art.
The opera is a satire of the nazi regime. No big surprise there, the surprise comes in that they seemed to have expected to actually stage it. It didn't happen although no one knows if the Jewish council of elders in the ghetto stopped it out of fear or if the nazis found out first. Having seen the opera I have to say that showing it where the guards could see would have been foolish. Possibly fatal.
Their act of defiance wouldn't have changed much even if they'd been allowed to stage it. It wouldn't played anywhere outside that ghetto, and certainly wouldn't have stopped the brutalities of the nazi regime. But it was an act worthy remembrance.* They not only defied their captors through satire but the creation of the opera was a profound act of defiance in and of itself. In a world were destruction reigned they created.
I have these illusions about myself. I say "illusions" not because they're false but because they haven't been tested. I like to think that I'd be one of those who would create despite the dangers. I have no evidence of this, it's just something I like to believe about myself. Indeed, I let little things like a bad mood or indigestion stop me from even practicing guitar let alone composing.
In the defense of this belief I offer my willingness to step up when needed. A few years back I was sitting in my apartment (in the pre-LUC dark ages) watching tv when I heard a woman screaming. I didn't live in a very good neighbourhood, screaming women weren't that unusual. Most of the time it was someone having a fight with a boyfriend/husband/whatever, but this was different. I hesitated for a couple of minutes then grabbed my coat and went out to see what was going on. I was too late. Halfway up the stairs there was a guy cornered by two others and the screaming woman was naked in the bushes. It turned out that the guy was the one the press were calling the river valley rapist. He ended up getting convicted.
I did the right thing. I went to help, but waited too long to do any good. That still bothers me. If I'd been the only one to respond it would have been too late. I might have caught the guy but not before he'd raped again. The distress I still feel lets me believe that in the situation Ullmann and Kien faced, I might have done as they did.
Illusion? Perhaps, but one I can live with.
* The shows producers tried have the opening night on the anniversary of Kristallnacht but didn't manage it. They also tried for remembrance Day but still weren't ready.
Spell check is insisting that I capitalize nazi and tv. I think not!
The opera we saw was a special performance. It was The Emperor of Atlantis by composer Viktor Ullmann and librettist Petr Kien. It was preceded by a play about the creation of the work. In short, the opera was composed in the Therisienstadt Jewish ghetto during world war two. Composed in the kind of desperate squalor that we in the west today can only imagine. The authors didn't survive, they ended up in Auschwitz. On the stage floor and back wall the show's designers had placed a list of all the ghetto suicides from the time period of the play. For some, the conditions they were forced to endure were too much and yet for others those conditions produced art.
The opera is a satire of the nazi regime. No big surprise there, the surprise comes in that they seemed to have expected to actually stage it. It didn't happen although no one knows if the Jewish council of elders in the ghetto stopped it out of fear or if the nazis found out first. Having seen the opera I have to say that showing it where the guards could see would have been foolish. Possibly fatal.
Their act of defiance wouldn't have changed much even if they'd been allowed to stage it. It wouldn't played anywhere outside that ghetto, and certainly wouldn't have stopped the brutalities of the nazi regime. But it was an act worthy remembrance.* They not only defied their captors through satire but the creation of the opera was a profound act of defiance in and of itself. In a world were destruction reigned they created.
I have these illusions about myself. I say "illusions" not because they're false but because they haven't been tested. I like to think that I'd be one of those who would create despite the dangers. I have no evidence of this, it's just something I like to believe about myself. Indeed, I let little things like a bad mood or indigestion stop me from even practicing guitar let alone composing.
In the defense of this belief I offer my willingness to step up when needed. A few years back I was sitting in my apartment (in the pre-LUC dark ages) watching tv when I heard a woman screaming. I didn't live in a very good neighbourhood, screaming women weren't that unusual. Most of the time it was someone having a fight with a boyfriend/husband/whatever, but this was different. I hesitated for a couple of minutes then grabbed my coat and went out to see what was going on. I was too late. Halfway up the stairs there was a guy cornered by two others and the screaming woman was naked in the bushes. It turned out that the guy was the one the press were calling the river valley rapist. He ended up getting convicted.
I did the right thing. I went to help, but waited too long to do any good. That still bothers me. If I'd been the only one to respond it would have been too late. I might have caught the guy but not before he'd raped again. The distress I still feel lets me believe that in the situation Ullmann and Kien faced, I might have done as they did.
Illusion? Perhaps, but one I can live with.
* The shows producers tried have the opening night on the anniversary of Kristallnacht but didn't manage it. They also tried for remembrance Day but still weren't ready.
Spell check is insisting that I capitalize nazi and tv. I think not!
Right here, right now
This very moment I sit at work and feel great. I feel like I can create great music, music that would touch people the way music has touched me. I'm 4km and 4 hours, 45 minutes from home and my guitar, it won't last that long. I wonder how people maintain that belief in themselves, for me it's such a fleeting feeling.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Bunch O' Blogs
Once again the Mistress of My Urban Kvetch gives me a blogging first, thanks for the link Esther! Thanks also for forcing me to figure out how to add links to my page. It turned out to be easy, who knew?
These "Daily Reads" caught my interest and kept it. They all feature one, or more, or all of these things: beauty, humour, honesty, insight, goodcrazy, passion and great writing. Indeed, I could have found examples of each of these traits in any of these blogs.
Go check 'em out.
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What are you still doing here? Go already!
These "Daily Reads" caught my interest and kept it. They all feature one, or more, or all of these things: beauty, humour, honesty, insight, goodcrazy, passion and great writing. Indeed, I could have found examples of each of these traits in any of these blogs.
Go check 'em out.
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What are you still doing here? Go already!
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Double standard time
So, the recording the band is making is intended to be a demo. What we're going to use it for hasn't been determined, but never mind. Demos don't need to be perfect, they can even have outright mistakes. The point is to show a prospective booker, record flak or reporter what the band is about. It should be no more than four songs and your best one should be first. Other than putting your contact info on every available surface, including the CD itself there aren't any rules. Right now I'm working on the melody line to R ubber D ucky.
The next level up in recording is the Stage Sale CD. This is the product you flog after gigs to get beer money and/or gas money to get to the next gig. These recordings don't have to be perfect either. There shouldn't be any obvious mistakes but little things like finger squeaks or the occasion less than perfect tightness* is ok. The people your selling to are usually friends and family, they'll forgive you.
The last level is the commercial release. This should be as perfect as you can make it. Perfect doesn't mean slick and over-produced, it means that everything on the album is intentional. If you're even a little out of tune then you'd better have a good reason for it.
Last Friday the LUC and I went a fundraiser for the local opera troop. I sat next to a woman who, surprisingly enough, loved opera. We talked quite a bit about music and I tried to explain why I love punk music. [I love opera too, but for different reasons.] She said to me "Aren't they just not very good at playing?", an oft heard refrain. The point isn't that they're not technically adept, but that technique isn't important. The most important thing in punk music is passion. If you're giving it your all, sincerely and passionately, then you've succeeded.
I think classical music can use a little of this ethos. Too many classical recordings sound like they're done by machine. Note perfect beginning to end. Music is a human thing. Perhaps the most human of all the arts because it happens in time. At a live performance you get what you get, perfect or not, just like all human interactions. Humans make mistakes and eliminating them entirely makes things sterile. I'm not saying I enjoy watching people who make nothing but mistakes. What's compelling to me is to watch people push their limits.
Be it opera or punk there's nothing more exciting than a performer who's teetering on the edge of disaster. I end up pulling for them the way you would a tightrope walker swaying in a sudden breeze. "Come on, you can do it! Just a little further!" In punk the limits of their ability are much lower and so you often see performances where this happens. The performers get caught up in the emotions of the moment and the song, and quickly reach their limits trying to express it. Very compelling.
To review: mistakes are ok on demos, indeed they're kind of expected. And, I truly believe that mistakes, especially ones made because of passion, are ok. So why is it that I can't record a melody track for R ubber D ucky that's acceptable to me?
Musician: thy name is double standard.
*tightness is defined as how rhythmically together everyone plays.
The next level up in recording is the Stage Sale CD. This is the product you flog after gigs to get beer money and/or gas money to get to the next gig. These recordings don't have to be perfect either. There shouldn't be any obvious mistakes but little things like finger squeaks or the occasion less than perfect tightness* is ok. The people your selling to are usually friends and family, they'll forgive you.
The last level is the commercial release. This should be as perfect as you can make it. Perfect doesn't mean slick and over-produced, it means that everything on the album is intentional. If you're even a little out of tune then you'd better have a good reason for it.
Last Friday the LUC and I went a fundraiser for the local opera troop. I sat next to a woman who, surprisingly enough, loved opera. We talked quite a bit about music and I tried to explain why I love punk music. [I love opera too, but for different reasons.] She said to me "Aren't they just not very good at playing?", an oft heard refrain. The point isn't that they're not technically adept, but that technique isn't important. The most important thing in punk music is passion. If you're giving it your all, sincerely and passionately, then you've succeeded.
I think classical music can use a little of this ethos. Too many classical recordings sound like they're done by machine. Note perfect beginning to end. Music is a human thing. Perhaps the most human of all the arts because it happens in time. At a live performance you get what you get, perfect or not, just like all human interactions. Humans make mistakes and eliminating them entirely makes things sterile. I'm not saying I enjoy watching people who make nothing but mistakes. What's compelling to me is to watch people push their limits.
Be it opera or punk there's nothing more exciting than a performer who's teetering on the edge of disaster. I end up pulling for them the way you would a tightrope walker swaying in a sudden breeze. "Come on, you can do it! Just a little further!" In punk the limits of their ability are much lower and so you often see performances where this happens. The performers get caught up in the emotions of the moment and the song, and quickly reach their limits trying to express it. Very compelling.
To review: mistakes are ok on demos, indeed they're kind of expected. And, I truly believe that mistakes, especially ones made because of passion, are ok. So why is it that I can't record a melody track for R ubber D ucky that's acceptable to me?
Musician: thy name is double standard.
*tightness is defined as how rhythmically together everyone plays.
Saturday, November 06, 2004
Possessed by the Eagles
The band plays a minimum of two gigs a year: the bike-fest and Halloween. We didn't play the bike gig. We didn't play Halloween, damn it! Once again K bailed. Halloween is a great gig, no pressure, all fun. K decided that he wanted to see Cheap Trick instead. I can't think any band I would pass up a gig to see. Not Tom Waits, not Elvis Costello, not even a back from the dead Clash. Making music is always better than listening to it.
I did get to play, the second party the LUC and I went to was a quiet little affair. Just a few people and a couple of guitars. Three of the four women were music theater types, good singers and not at all shy. None of them played guitar particularly well. I snagged an instrument in a moment of inattention and didn't let it go. Keeping it wasn't hard, all I had to do was keep playing. A task made easy because all the songs used the same four chords. This kind of improvisation is fun because the harmonies change so little there's lots of room for experimentation. Mind you, playing under a singer requires a subtle touch. You can't get too out there or you'll throw them.
The LUC gave me a hug from behind while I was playing, and that my friends is why I'd rather play than listen. No, not because of the sex. Well, not entirely.
It's about connection. I know people who find community in shared experience but I'm not really like that. For me the act of appreciating music is a solitary one. It's too subjective, I'm always wondering if what I heard was the same as what my companions heard. It's too hard to explain after the fact that interesting key change or whatever, and too annoying for everyone to point it out at the time. Forget about trying to describe the emotions the music inspires, every time I've tried I get bemused and embarrassed looks.
But when I'm playing there's one less level of interpretation, at least I don't have to wonder whether I heard things correctly. I'm probably kidding myself, we're all trapped in our brain bubbles and who can really know if our perceptions are the same? But at least it feels like a conversation rather than a debate. There's an exchange of ideas between me and the audience rather than an after the fact discussion of a third party experience.
It might be all an illusion but I love the feeling of connection when people are really listening. Unfortunately the only time that happened was during Hotel California. Man, I haven't been able to get it out of my head! It was a good one for me because it has a guitar solo so I got to step out a little. P and his partner did a drunken vocal interpretation of the solo and despite that everyone still listened to me. How do I know? Because it went on for twice the normal length and only stopped when I gave up trying to drown out the intoxicated stupidity happening behind me. But I digress, I was talking about hugs.
What is a hug? I played well and with passion, and she heard and appreciated it. In this case it was concrete proof of a connection and that rocks.
So: a pretty good Halloween despite not doing a real gig, now if only I could get that demon song out of my head.
I did get to play, the second party the LUC and I went to was a quiet little affair. Just a few people and a couple of guitars. Three of the four women were music theater types, good singers and not at all shy. None of them played guitar particularly well. I snagged an instrument in a moment of inattention and didn't let it go. Keeping it wasn't hard, all I had to do was keep playing. A task made easy because all the songs used the same four chords. This kind of improvisation is fun because the harmonies change so little there's lots of room for experimentation. Mind you, playing under a singer requires a subtle touch. You can't get too out there or you'll throw them.
The LUC gave me a hug from behind while I was playing, and that my friends is why I'd rather play than listen. No, not because of the sex. Well, not entirely.
It's about connection. I know people who find community in shared experience but I'm not really like that. For me the act of appreciating music is a solitary one. It's too subjective, I'm always wondering if what I heard was the same as what my companions heard. It's too hard to explain after the fact that interesting key change or whatever, and too annoying for everyone to point it out at the time. Forget about trying to describe the emotions the music inspires, every time I've tried I get bemused and embarrassed looks.
But when I'm playing there's one less level of interpretation, at least I don't have to wonder whether I heard things correctly. I'm probably kidding myself, we're all trapped in our brain bubbles and who can really know if our perceptions are the same? But at least it feels like a conversation rather than a debate. There's an exchange of ideas between me and the audience rather than an after the fact discussion of a third party experience.
It might be all an illusion but I love the feeling of connection when people are really listening. Unfortunately the only time that happened was during Hotel California. Man, I haven't been able to get it out of my head! It was a good one for me because it has a guitar solo so I got to step out a little. P and his partner did a drunken vocal interpretation of the solo and despite that everyone still listened to me. How do I know? Because it went on for twice the normal length and only stopped when I gave up trying to drown out the intoxicated stupidity happening behind me. But I digress, I was talking about hugs.
What is a hug? I played well and with passion, and she heard and appreciated it. In this case it was concrete proof of a connection and that rocks.
So: a pretty good Halloween despite not doing a real gig, now if only I could get that demon song out of my head.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Because I had to
This isn't a political blog, you'll hear no more about this from me.
I don't think things would have changed that much under Kerry. But I do think that things will change under Bush. Change for the worse.
Now that he has what could be perceived as an endorsement, what's he going to do? Will he try to reconcile the split in the American people, ease his "us and them" stance? Or will he push forward, full steam ahead to a brave new world? A world where rich, straight, white Christians reap all the benefits of the immense power and wealth of the United States? Where laws are changed and freedoms curtailed to fit an agenda that benefits a very narrow definition the term citizen?
World opinion before this election was that the Bush White House was a thing to be feared. This election is a clear reply to that fear: the people have spoken and they said "We don't care."
Read this, it's the most lucid and rational argument against the W that I've read.
I'm going to put on Glenn Gould (a good Canadian) playing the Goldberg Variations (1984 version) and try to forget all this.
I don't think things would have changed that much under Kerry. But I do think that things will change under Bush. Change for the worse.
Now that he has what could be perceived as an endorsement, what's he going to do? Will he try to reconcile the split in the American people, ease his "us and them" stance? Or will he push forward, full steam ahead to a brave new world? A world where rich, straight, white Christians reap all the benefits of the immense power and wealth of the United States? Where laws are changed and freedoms curtailed to fit an agenda that benefits a very narrow definition the term citizen?
World opinion before this election was that the Bush White House was a thing to be feared. This election is a clear reply to that fear: the people have spoken and they said "We don't care."
Read this, it's the most lucid and rational argument against the W that I've read.
I'm going to put on Glenn Gould (a good Canadian) playing the Goldberg Variations (1984 version) and try to forget all this.
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