Two New Things

Two things today.

Objects of Desire / Skin

I've taken to heart something Andy Warhol said - do something once or do it every day. And so I've been putting more work into recording and editing.

The first, boldly named piece, is based an idea that I shall definitely be revisiting at some point. Aside from a few brief diversions, it's based on just two chords, but I was able to get a lot of interesting emotional effects. The tonalities have just enough in common that they feel related, but each makes a distinct impression.

Unfortunately, there is some background noise that crept into this one, but I excised the worst of it and was too happy with the performance to throw it out.

The second piece is more of an experiment. I played lead pan with my fingers, with the microphone placed right up under the drum. It's an interesting sound, I think. The finger taps remind me of the pluck of a harp, and the muffled harmonics are remniscent of gamelan.

It's a bit difficult to play pan this way. It's hard to get a good tone from any but the lowest notes. Playing full chords as I do at the end is tough, which is why there isn't more of it. The breathless pace was also a challenge and exposed the relative lack of coordination in the fingers of my left hand.

Climb the hill in my own way / Every day is the right day

Recently, I've been thinking that the process of developing one's musical skills is like climbing a mountain, except that everytime you think you've reached the peak, it turns out to be a small summit, and the true peak remains hidden in the clouds. For every moment that you think, "Yeah, I'm really good," there are countless moments when you think, "I'm not good enough," and this seems to remain true no matter how long you work at it.

Case in point - Making these rough, formative recordings has been a humbling experience. Most of my experience has been in playing live as part of a band, which takes a somewhat different skill set than recording. Being in a band is a social experience. You bond with the other players, and support them just as they support you. You have to be able to listen as well as play, which may seem easy and obvious, but is actually one of the elements of that nebulous concept that is talent. Recording is different. It's kind of solipsistic, especially solo recordings. There's nothing but your sound versus the empty space. And empty space has a way of making you look bad, instead of holding you up the way a good drummer does. Empty space just sits there, daring you to come up with an idea that's better than blank Zen perfection.

As a result of all this, it seems that with each of these recordings I make, I get more critical and demanding of myself. Which is good, really. Once I feel like I've finished with this project, I'm going to have a lot of pent-up energy ready to spend on more structured compositions.