I think my part in recording our album is now complete.
I went down to the studio Saturday night to spend some time on background vocals for Bombs Away and to put the finishing touches on Fallout Grace. Bombs Away turned out great... I resisted the urge to do too much and wound up just adding some nice high harmonies and textures.
Fallout Grace was a little more problematic. We set the bar high with some of the work we did on the bridge and third verse of the song, where I added up to 6 different background voices and two different counter-melodies. So I knew we needed something huge for the final chorus. I spent all week listening to the song, trying to figure out something to do... with no success.
So Dave and I put our heads together and... continued to have no success. After a lot of far-fetched and overreaching ooohs and aaaaahs, something clicked, and I tried interweaving the lyrics and melody from the bridge into the final chorus as a counterpoint line. Then I layered three voices over that line to make it sound like a choir.
And just like that we had it.
I think it sounds awesome, almost Rufus Wainwright.
It was about midnight as we finished up Fallout Grace, and there was one more thing I wanted to do. I took Dave's old beat up classical guitar into the live room, sat on a stool near the vocal mike, and recorded a bare bones acoustic version of Bottle Boy that I think we'll use as a hidden track. It turned out perfectly. One take, one microphone... just me playing the guitar with my fingers (no pick) and singing.
I hope it works out that we can use it in the way I'd like to, as kind of a coda.
We'll see.
I thought I'd have a lot more to say about finishing up with tracking, but I need another day or two to get my thoughts and feelings in order.
In the meantime... don't stop rockin'.
jbg
Monday, June 27, 2005
Not Guilty
As I piloted Stevie, my trusty Volvo, up the Double Nickel late Saturday night, the Kelly Clarkson song "Since You've Been Gone" came on the radio.
I didn't change it. I rocked out to it. And reflexively checked the lanes around me to see if anyone had caught me rocking out to a sacchrine piece of crap. Relieved that the other late night drivers were seemingly busy talking on their phones, lighting their joints and doing any number of things other than actually driving, I set my mind to contemplating the idea of the "guilty pleasure."
Why did I feel guilty for enjoying Kelly Clarkson? Why do I feel ashamed for liking "I Believe I Can Fly" by R. Kelly? What about "Yeah" by Usher? What about Hanson, TLC, and Green Day? Why do I feel so guilty?
Other than my Jewish heritage I mean.
The whole idea of the "guilty pleasure" is so strange when you think about it, especially with respect to music. Why shouldn't I like pop music? Why should I feel like it's "uncool" to like a song or a band?
It boils down to having this sense that others might judge your taste as inferior because you happen to like something that is... unsophisticated or without merit. As defined by... the media? The general public?
Dunno. But the fact is, I know I can listen to music in more varied and sophisticated ways than most people, music critics included. I can listen as a fan, I can listen as a musician, I can listen (somewhat) from a technical standpoint, and I can listen from a business standpoint.
So fuck the Kelly Clarkson-haters. I'm going to listen to whatever I want to listen to for whatever reasons I want to listen to it.
So there.
Just don't tell anyone I'm Jewish.
jbg
I didn't change it. I rocked out to it. And reflexively checked the lanes around me to see if anyone had caught me rocking out to a sacchrine piece of crap. Relieved that the other late night drivers were seemingly busy talking on their phones, lighting their joints and doing any number of things other than actually driving, I set my mind to contemplating the idea of the "guilty pleasure."
Why did I feel guilty for enjoying Kelly Clarkson? Why do I feel ashamed for liking "I Believe I Can Fly" by R. Kelly? What about "Yeah" by Usher? What about Hanson, TLC, and Green Day? Why do I feel so guilty?
Other than my Jewish heritage I mean.
The whole idea of the "guilty pleasure" is so strange when you think about it, especially with respect to music. Why shouldn't I like pop music? Why should I feel like it's "uncool" to like a song or a band?
It boils down to having this sense that others might judge your taste as inferior because you happen to like something that is... unsophisticated or without merit. As defined by... the media? The general public?
Dunno. But the fact is, I know I can listen to music in more varied and sophisticated ways than most people, music critics included. I can listen as a fan, I can listen as a musician, I can listen (somewhat) from a technical standpoint, and I can listen from a business standpoint.
So fuck the Kelly Clarkson-haters. I'm going to listen to whatever I want to listen to for whatever reasons I want to listen to it.
So there.
Just don't tell anyone I'm Jewish.
jbg
Friday, June 24, 2005
Breathe
Well, the week's over. For some reason, everything has felt strangely disjointed lately. Not sure why.
Not much going on this weekend other than the last (please oh please) backing vocals session and a graduation party.
And trying to stay out of the 100 degree heat.
We had a couple of pretty good rehearsals this week, and the new tune is coming together nicely. Still some work to be done on the arrangement, but everyone seems to be taking a pretty stripped down rock n' roll approach to it, which is working well. I've been writing a lot... lots of ideas, but very little actually finished. This whole "trying to write more directly" is hard. It's such a fine line between good, simple, direct writing and trite cliched crap... Or how did it go in Spinal Tap? "There's a fine line between brilliant and stupid."
But I think I'm getting somewhere with a couple of the songs I've been working on. When I have a song that takes awhile to finish, I can usually feel the progress. I can tell when I'm getting close to having something good. And one song in particular, tentatively called "Ark," feels like it's rounding into shape. All the music is there if not a bit muddy right now, and what really needs attention is the lyrics. I have some nice thoughts, a good melody, a strong chorus, and an over-arching concept... but I haven't been able to quite pin down what I'm after.
The first verse and chorus stands like this:
ARK These eyes don't shine like they used to But there's still some light in them These eyes don't shine like they used to But they remember when... (chorus) I'd carry you Through broken rain Until the waters broke And just the dirt remained
I like all of that... the sentiment is there but I think I need to live with the verse for a week or so to make sure there's not something else that might work better. Similarly, the second verse:
These words don't ring like they used to But somehow you still believe That this voice will sing like it wants to And that's enough to carry me (chorus) To carry me Through broken rain Until the waters break And just the bird remains
I like a lot of it, I'm just not sure if it's a good as it could be. So often, I write not by what I want, but by what I know I don't want. I know when things are wrong almost immediately, and I only know things are right when I know they're not wrong.
Wow that doesn't make much sense at all, does it.
Other songs in the works include: "Maybe," "The Losing Kind," "Wide-Eyed Lightning," "Orpheus Rising," and "Light It on Fire, Break it in Half," all in various stages on development. I feel like I'm close to a breakthrough with this stuff, and I think I'll have some good time in the next week to spend writing.
Oh, and I hate The fucking Eagles.
jbg
And trying to stay out of the 100 degree heat.
We had a couple of pretty good rehearsals this week, and the new tune is coming together nicely. Still some work to be done on the arrangement, but everyone seems to be taking a pretty stripped down rock n' roll approach to it, which is working well. I've been writing a lot... lots of ideas, but very little actually finished. This whole "trying to write more directly" is hard. It's such a fine line between good, simple, direct writing and trite cliched crap... Or how did it go in Spinal Tap? "There's a fine line between brilliant and stupid."
But I think I'm getting somewhere with a couple of the songs I've been working on. When I have a song that takes awhile to finish, I can usually feel the progress. I can tell when I'm getting close to having something good. And one song in particular, tentatively called "Ark," feels like it's rounding into shape. All the music is there if not a bit muddy right now, and what really needs attention is the lyrics. I have some nice thoughts, a good melody, a strong chorus, and an over-arching concept... but I haven't been able to quite pin down what I'm after.
The first verse and chorus stands like this:
ARK These eyes don't shine like they used to But there's still some light in them These eyes don't shine like they used to But they remember when... (chorus) I'd carry you Through broken rain Until the waters broke And just the dirt remained
I like all of that... the sentiment is there but I think I need to live with the verse for a week or so to make sure there's not something else that might work better. Similarly, the second verse:
These words don't ring like they used to But somehow you still believe That this voice will sing like it wants to And that's enough to carry me (chorus) To carry me Through broken rain Until the waters break And just the bird remains
I like a lot of it, I'm just not sure if it's a good as it could be. So often, I write not by what I want, but by what I know I don't want. I know when things are wrong almost immediately, and I only know things are right when I know they're not wrong.
Wow that doesn't make much sense at all, does it.
Other songs in the works include: "Maybe," "The Losing Kind," "Wide-Eyed Lightning," "Orpheus Rising," and "Light It on Fire, Break it in Half," all in various stages on development. I feel like I'm close to a breakthrough with this stuff, and I think I'll have some good time in the next week to spend writing.
Oh, and I hate The fucking Eagles.
jbg
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Just Smashing
So Billy Corgan wants his old band back.
And he initiated the process of getting it back by taking out a reported $37,000 worth of newspaper ads in the Tribune and Sun Times this week. Billy's been into public displays of affection lately, even keeping an autobiographical blog on My Space.
You go Billy.
Actually, I have to say I like Billy and lot of his music. Some of it is the fact that he's a tall goofy looking guy from Chicago with a weird voice who somehow became one of the biggest rockstars in the world. Now why would I identify with that?
Additionally, Billy seems to be the type of musician who does whatever he wants artistically and lets the people (and record labels) come to him. That's cool. So I found it amusing on Tuesday night to tune into Sound Opinions, a music talk show on WXRT in Chicago, and hear Greg Kot and Jim Derogatis (or as my friend Ben likes to call them, Greg Cock and Jim Derogatory) fawning over Mr. Corgan like he was the second coming. It was particularly ironic because Jim Dero has had a nearly decade long feud with Billy over a bad review of a concert to the point where Billy actually banned Jimmy from reviewing any SP shows for awhile.
Anyway, one exchange between the two went a long towards confirming a long standing suspicion I've had about today's rock critics. Billy was talking about how he has proven himself musically in the face of doubters, how so many business-types have said "This CD'll never sell" and it went on to sell millions. Mr. Derogatory jumped in and compared Billy's success at overcoming doubt to his own, using a time an editor questioned why he was reviewing a Pearl Jam show and not a Meatloaf show.
Excuse me?
This screams that Mr. Derogatory wants to see himself as equal to a musician, wants to see what he does as somehow as risky and important as the art he reviews, doesn't it? I've always thought a lot of modern music critics write about music because they can't play it, and often carry that as a chip on their shoulder.
This wasn't (and isn't) always the case... Lester Bangs, Greil Marcus, Nick Tosches... all these guys to me are writers who love(d) music. Writers who happened to write about music. It's less about making subjective judgments about music, and more about providing the reader with background information to help him or her make the judgment... there's less a sense of "My judgment is the best one because I'M a critic."
De gustibus non disputandum est.
jbg
You go Billy.
Actually, I have to say I like Billy and lot of his music. Some of it is the fact that he's a tall goofy looking guy from Chicago with a weird voice who somehow became one of the biggest rockstars in the world. Now why would I identify with that?
Additionally, Billy seems to be the type of musician who does whatever he wants artistically and lets the people (and record labels) come to him. That's cool. So I found it amusing on Tuesday night to tune into Sound Opinions, a music talk show on WXRT in Chicago, and hear Greg Kot and Jim Derogatis (or as my friend Ben likes to call them, Greg Cock and Jim Derogatory) fawning over Mr. Corgan like he was the second coming. It was particularly ironic because Jim Dero has had a nearly decade long feud with Billy over a bad review of a concert to the point where Billy actually banned Jimmy from reviewing any SP shows for awhile.
Anyway, one exchange between the two went a long towards confirming a long standing suspicion I've had about today's rock critics. Billy was talking about how he has proven himself musically in the face of doubters, how so many business-types have said "This CD'll never sell" and it went on to sell millions. Mr. Derogatory jumped in and compared Billy's success at overcoming doubt to his own, using a time an editor questioned why he was reviewing a Pearl Jam show and not a Meatloaf show.
Excuse me?
This screams that Mr. Derogatory wants to see himself as equal to a musician, wants to see what he does as somehow as risky and important as the art he reviews, doesn't it? I've always thought a lot of modern music critics write about music because they can't play it, and often carry that as a chip on their shoulder.
This wasn't (and isn't) always the case... Lester Bangs, Greil Marcus, Nick Tosches... all these guys to me are writers who love(d) music. Writers who happened to write about music. It's less about making subjective judgments about music, and more about providing the reader with background information to help him or her make the judgment... there's less a sense of "My judgment is the best one because I'M a critic."
De gustibus non disputandum est.
jbg
Monday, June 20, 2005
Load, Unload, Rock, Load, Unload. Repeat.
Busy busy weekend... a lot of music, food and family.
Thursday night, we rocked Deerfield. Boy, was Deerfield rocked. Or was that us? Who is the rocker, who is the rocked? I think Sartre said that. It's a fundamental question with which we all have to deal. Actually, in spite of a few technical problems, I thought we played pretty well. The weather was beautiful, the crowd was a little sparse but very receptive... good times.
Friday early evening we played at Taste of Randolph. I guess from the city festivals we played last year, I figured that we would be playing on a stage tucked underneath some train tracks on a side street. Wrong-o, dong-o, Captain Stupid. The stage was the largest stage we've ever played on. Just huge. The event was run by Jam Productions, a huge production company.
Basically, everything was huge except our performance. It was just one of those nights for the entire band. Tempos were off, notes were missed, I broke a string... of course it would happen on a giant stage in front of tons of potential new fans and the largest production company in the city. Actually, the audience didn't seem to notice. They flocked to Gina every time I announced we have had free CDs, and Gina reported people were really into us.
Silly people. My shortcomings were related directly to the fact that I was having trouble properly hearing everybody. I could hear myself okay, but the drums and bass sounded like they were down the street... so I found myself distracted, focusing on things other than my performance, then coming back to my performance in time to hear that I was not in lock-step with the drums.
Ugh.
But we got free beer, food, and the manager from Jam was nice and seemed to like us. And one of the organizers from the Sheffield Garden Walk was there and into it. So maybe I'm in overly-critical musician mode. And if it's one thing I've learned to do recently, it's to shake off bad performances.
By late Friday night as we were sitting around the fire in our backyard quaffing Goose Island Summer brew, I was over it. I'm looking at it as a learning experience for our Summerfest gig. Apparently, we're playing the largest land-stage in the entire festival, so dealing with the sound issues of playing the huge stage at TOR was good preparation for Summerfest. We'll refocus, rehearse and re-... lax. Hopefully.
Saturday, I took a day off from teaching and went to the studio to try to finish up the last of the backing vocals. Close, but no cigar. I did knock out two tunes though, getting some nice stuff down on Revenant and Darkness, leaving only Bombs Away and a little bit of Fallout Grace. We are so damn close to being done with this album and it's really starting to gnaw on me... I need to get away from it, let Dave mix it, and come back with fresh ears. I'm starting to hear flaws that I know are not there... but when you hear something 500 times in headphones you start imagining mistakes and problems... you completely lose objectivity (if you ever had it to begin with).
Bottom line, it looks like one more session for backgrounds and my contributions will be complete. Saturday night, we went out to Athena in Greektown to celebrate my sister's boyfriend's graduation from a Master's program at Northwestern. Good times.
Sunday, we had the family over to our backyard for Father's Day. I felt incredibly mature and grown-up in that I got up, did the shopping for the barbecue, mowed the lawn, watered the plants, and power washed the house. Then I put together the meat for the hamburgers. Once company arrived (consisting of my mom and dad, Gina's mom and dad, my Grandma and Grandpa, and my sister and her boyfriend) I entertained and grilled up the food, while simultaneously power-drinking Heinekens. The only moment of trouble came when my mostly blind Grandfather almost fell down our back stairway.
Not good times.
I managed to catch him after two steps and he was none worse for the wear... but it was a scary moment. So now it's back to Monday again with a full week of the usual... Perhaps I'll sleep this week. Perhaps not.
jbg
Thursday night, we rocked Deerfield. Boy, was Deerfield rocked. Or was that us? Who is the rocker, who is the rocked? I think Sartre said that. It's a fundamental question with which we all have to deal. Actually, in spite of a few technical problems, I thought we played pretty well. The weather was beautiful, the crowd was a little sparse but very receptive... good times.
Friday early evening we played at Taste of Randolph. I guess from the city festivals we played last year, I figured that we would be playing on a stage tucked underneath some train tracks on a side street. Wrong-o, dong-o, Captain Stupid. The stage was the largest stage we've ever played on. Just huge. The event was run by Jam Productions, a huge production company.
Basically, everything was huge except our performance. It was just one of those nights for the entire band. Tempos were off, notes were missed, I broke a string... of course it would happen on a giant stage in front of tons of potential new fans and the largest production company in the city. Actually, the audience didn't seem to notice. They flocked to Gina every time I announced we have had free CDs, and Gina reported people were really into us.
Silly people. My shortcomings were related directly to the fact that I was having trouble properly hearing everybody. I could hear myself okay, but the drums and bass sounded like they were down the street... so I found myself distracted, focusing on things other than my performance, then coming back to my performance in time to hear that I was not in lock-step with the drums.
Ugh.
But we got free beer, food, and the manager from Jam was nice and seemed to like us. And one of the organizers from the Sheffield Garden Walk was there and into it. So maybe I'm in overly-critical musician mode. And if it's one thing I've learned to do recently, it's to shake off bad performances.
By late Friday night as we were sitting around the fire in our backyard quaffing Goose Island Summer brew, I was over it. I'm looking at it as a learning experience for our Summerfest gig. Apparently, we're playing the largest land-stage in the entire festival, so dealing with the sound issues of playing the huge stage at TOR was good preparation for Summerfest. We'll refocus, rehearse and re-... lax. Hopefully.
Saturday, I took a day off from teaching and went to the studio to try to finish up the last of the backing vocals. Close, but no cigar. I did knock out two tunes though, getting some nice stuff down on Revenant and Darkness, leaving only Bombs Away and a little bit of Fallout Grace. We are so damn close to being done with this album and it's really starting to gnaw on me... I need to get away from it, let Dave mix it, and come back with fresh ears. I'm starting to hear flaws that I know are not there... but when you hear something 500 times in headphones you start imagining mistakes and problems... you completely lose objectivity (if you ever had it to begin with).
Bottom line, it looks like one more session for backgrounds and my contributions will be complete. Saturday night, we went out to Athena in Greektown to celebrate my sister's boyfriend's graduation from a Master's program at Northwestern. Good times.
Sunday, we had the family over to our backyard for Father's Day. I felt incredibly mature and grown-up in that I got up, did the shopping for the barbecue, mowed the lawn, watered the plants, and power washed the house. Then I put together the meat for the hamburgers. Once company arrived (consisting of my mom and dad, Gina's mom and dad, my Grandma and Grandpa, and my sister and her boyfriend) I entertained and grilled up the food, while simultaneously power-drinking Heinekens. The only moment of trouble came when my mostly blind Grandfather almost fell down our back stairway.
Not good times.
I managed to catch him after two steps and he was none worse for the wear... but it was a scary moment. So now it's back to Monday again with a full week of the usual... Perhaps I'll sleep this week. Perhaps not.
jbg
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