down to the wire

Okay, so why didn't anybody ever tell me about Wire? I'm sure I had heard of them or read about them in other contexts but no one ever said to me: all the people that you like to listen to, listen to Wire and Wire is rad so you have to stop and give them a listen now.

So, apparently, Wire is the most under-recognized serious influence on punk, post-punk and new wave that I currently have finally found out about.

I am exploring their work and enjoying it. What I love about Wire is what I love about so much post-punk and early new wave: no fear of recording a short pop-song with both wild guitars and heavy and obvious synthesizer use.

I love Eno (like any synthesist should) -- but I love his early solo rock stuff as much as his ambient. I love a good synth-based song every now and then: but who ever said that being a synthesist meant that you had to be obsessed with music primarily driven by the synthesizer. I am not aware of there being any bass-rock out there. Or ambient bass music. (I know it is not a very good analogy, but just give this one to me, okay?)

I saw a documentary recently where the Edge talked about being the kind of guitarist who understood his role as being accompaniment to a pop-singer. I remember reading an interview of Nick Rhodes once where he talked about not being interested in novelty sounds, synth-solos, and bringing the synth to the fore of the music. He saw himself as created background atmospheres with strings, etc., and rhythmic interest through sequences and arpeggios. So the order is: singer, then guitar, then synth. I must admit that I am an odd kind of (amateur) synthesist: I basically like pop and rock music that is unafraid of bold and obvious synthesis but that still privileges rock's first two main instruments up front: the voice and the guitar.

Having finally figured this out about myself and becoming able to name it has allowed me to realize that it is hard to do the kind of synthesis and synthesizer accompaniment I really enjoy most listening to and contributing to because a.) modern DAWs hand you the capacity to make synth-rock on a platinum platter and b.) I do not actually have a band around me and I am what I would call BARELY proficient on the guitar. That being said, when I recently added an electric guitar to my project studio I was happy to discover how much easier it was to record a line-in distorted and/or heavily effected electric guitar and sound okay than trying to microphone record a nice take of acoustic guitar.

Oh, well. My bare proficiency at the guitar is a limitation that gives structure to my creativity. Besides, isn't barely proficient guitar what (post) punk music was and is all about anyway?

With that said, I have about three unfinished tracks that I am still working on but too self-conscious to share. I should have at least one of these up on Soundcloud and discussed here before summer is out.

Thanks for following. Peace.

the end of the book

I've been reading a lot of stuff about how "print media" is at an end. I understand the points that folks are making about this from a technological and practical point of view - and I experience this transition to the electronic, myself, to a certain degree. But to this bibliophile who also reads his local paper every morning with his family at breakfast, I must say, it is a kind of sad prospect to me. It is a little odd to be a web logger who prefers to read (and edit) things on paper. Computers are still a tool to me, rather than a means of reading.

If a book is just a means of dispensing, storing and looking up information, then goodbye to it. If a book is work of art in itself, then, as with all forms of art, I think it would be truly sad to see it go. So my title is a play on words. Perhaps print media is over. But it may not mean the end of the book (as in its discontinuation) if we take time to take a look at the end of the book (what a book's telos is).

The Book of Kells is what "book" is meant to be.



The Book of Kells is not "print media." If print media must go the way of the Dodo, then I suppose I will survive it. But an illuminated manuscript is a work of art - and not printed.

In the west, ancient Christian art developed into stained glass windows on the one hand, and illuminated manuscripts, like the Book of Kells, on the other. Books are a Christian art-form. The book was invented as a means to preserve, teach, process (liturgically) and proclaim the Christian scriptures. Every literate culture has some means of preserving its writing. The codex predated Christianity in the ancient Mediterranean world. And codices are book-like in form. But the thing we call a book, when the word "book" is used to refer to a kind of material artifact that is paper or vellum bound between covers, is Christian. Its end is tied up in liturgical goals. A book is supposed to be beautiful in the same way that a church is supposed to be beautiful, and the robes of the altar party are supposed to be beautiful. Books are a liturgical art form: their end and goal is the glorification of the ultimate reality that Christians seek. The book as a means of glorifying utlimate reality thereby makes a statement as to the nature of that reality. So we shouldn't be surprised that books came out of a religious culture that claimed that God was "logos," word, narrative, story, reason, argument, logic, itself.

I am reminded of another project going on right now, the St. John's Bible:



I like and dislike the St. John's Bible. I dig the idea of not simply imitating ancient illuminated manuscripts but rather trying to bring illumination forward into the 21st century. But in this particular case it is often only the idea that I like. The actual execution of it (and you can here it in the word-choice of the illuminator himself in the video embedded, above) comes across as too romantic and self-involving on the part of the illuminator. Does "21st Century" mean inserting the modern, impermeable, individuated and consumerist "self" into the illumination? I don't mean to sound too critical, the St. John's Bible is lovely. And the illuminator amazing. But one of the key parts of ancient illumination in the west, as with iconography in the east, was the spiritual principle of humility as anonymity. As an art form, iconography and illumination are about the expression of something transcendent to the cosmos itself - they are not about the expression of the "self," or the individual artist (except, of course, paradoxically as a microcosm of the cosmos itself). Oh wells.

This whole post was inspired by a viewing of The Secret of Kells, which is a truly remarkable movie:



It is, for a movie, an example of the kind of art that I always hope that any form of art can aspire to: I wish there were more books like the Book of Kells, and more animated movies like the Secret of Kells. It is scintillating. The scenes where the main character is walking alone in the woods are amazing: the light shining through the moving trees above is rendered as patterns appearing within the form of the character himself who is rendered as kind-of semi-transparent. Amazing. The whole thing is so visually overwhelming that by half way through I just gave up trying to notice it all and I just let it wash over me. On top of all that, the movie celebrates the book as a religious art-form. At one point, the main character battles a supernatural enemy through his skills as an illuminator. I could go on and on but I won't. Needless to say, I will have to give this film multiple viewings.

Finally, I think that the print industry will survive, but I imagine that to do so it may have to go "specialty," that is to say, printing stuff that takes advantage of the art-form of the book and that which is art-like in print itself. To sell books, they will have to be more than information storage and retrival. They will have to be beautiful. They will have to be things that you wouldn't want on a computer screen. When I think about that, I think of Taschen, check them out. They produce books with rich images, like that below, that you wish you could see on a beautiful clay paper page, rather than on my web log:

Thanks for following. Peace

guitar edition

The latest addition to my project studio is my new Fender Squier Bullet, antique white.

In the midst of a tenure review, a chronic sinus infection, teaching, advising, meetings, ecclesiastical orderings, being a father to two toddlers: I have been able to rock out, and that has, in part, kept me going.

I had enough money to get a simple electric guitar and I am so happy. I have been sampling every channel strip setting in Logic endlessly. It is nice when it sounds like you have a wailing stack right next to you but it is just your computer and some headphones.

I've even been working on some tracks that now actually sound like rock music. Dance punk is on the way.

I'm still here, I've still eked out some time for creativity. Nothing could be busy than this semester. I'll be hanging out with folks at the SXSW monome meet up this Spring Break. And I will be sharing sounds and tracks.

Thanks for following, and thanks for the support.

the epic and the pop song

There is a statue of King Geser in Ulan-Ude, Buryatia. It is really quite impressive in person, I might add.

King Geser was a legendary, well, that is to say, epic, in the literal sense, King of medieval Tibet. His epic has spread wherever Tibetan style tantric Buddhism has spread - including what is now the Buryat Republic of the Russian Federation.

Check out the Wikipedia entry on Geser. There are something like 140 living Geser epic singers. They know the entire epic by heart, with only the expected regional variations. It is an oral tradition. Some of the singers are "illiterate." It is one of the only living epic traditions in the world today - the way the Iliad and the Odyssey would once have been living oral traditions in ancient Greece.

Then there is pop music. We have no living epic in our modern western culture like King Geser. I used to think about this in a negative way. Something like: pop songs are a dime a dozen. Pop songs are trite, meaningless. How many pop songs does the world need? When I would set down to write one, I would ask myself: does the world really need my poor amateur pop song added to it?

I now think this kind of thinking is all wrong. The famous structural anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss said that modern western art music ("classical" music) has filled in the vacuum left by the evacuation of myth under the conditions of modernity. I think there is a depth to this insight that I fundamentally agree with and that is too huge for a blog post. But I think that there is an analog here: the endless generation of pop songs on the same template but with a near limitless number of finite instances fills for us in the modern west the pre-modern art of epic singing in the same way that art music fills for us under modernity our lack of pre-modern myth.

How do those epic singers remember all of it? They have a form, a template. They have an over-arching narrative. They have tones and sound structures within their folk-music theory. And from this they generate the epic over and over again. The almost infinite form gives birth, over and over again, to new finite instances.

And isn't this what we do when we make a pop song? Four instruments: rhythm, bass, treble, and melody. A few basic chords. One basic structure: intro-v-ch-v-ch-bridge-break-v-ch-coda. And we have a narrative: a story to tell. Even if we are trying to obscure it by being "alternative."

So, when I ask myself: does the world need one more pop song? Does the world need me to fill it with my silly attempt to craft another ditty? The answer is now more subtle. No, the world does not necessarily need my pop song. But I need to do it, because this is how I share in the epic.

Thanks for following. Peace

siberian outpost

I am away from my project studio. I am away from my laptop. No synthesizers. No midi. I had to travel light. We are gaining a new member of our family in the midst of Siberia. So my familial duties have drawn me away from my avocation for a time.

I know that, however, upon my return, I will enjoy making sounds and laying down a few tracks to share. These kinds of adventures are always inspiring.

Above please enjoy a photo of the most popular Soviet Analog Synthesizer of the 1980s: the Formanta Polivoks. Peace.

analog poly

As the school year begins I find myself caught up in the swirl of activities that force my vocation front and center. My avocation takes the periphery. Yes, that is right, my beautiful and seemingly endless sabbatical is over. But, God willing, my avocation is not to disappear along with it.

I have been snatching time for music and alternating between two joyful tasks in learning mode: Firstly, I have been studying this great book about chord progressions and building pop songs from chords called The Song Writing Sourcebook (Rikky Rooksby). Most of my study of theory has been from "official" art music sources, or on the fly from folks that understood the pop stuff. When it came to pop, it was usually just about memorizing standard progressions. What is great about this book is that it analyzes the why behind pop chord progressions. And it helped me with my art theory as well. Why didn't they tell me that the harmonic minor scale isn't really a scale at all but is really about collecting the right notes together to allow the dominant (V) chord to be major in what would otherwise be a minor key? Now I get it.

But the other half of my avocational time has been spent navigating alien territories in the form of my new Alesis Andromeda A6. Sorry, the name is so cool, I just have to write it all out, at least the first time. Progress plot: unlike the analog poly's of the 1980s, the Andromeda combines lots of knobs and switches (in the form of encoders, rather than actual potentiometers, sadly) with the same kind of digital interface that many synths of the late 80's and 1990's. That digital interface forces you to "menu-dive." There is no way of knowing from the position of things on the surface what may actually be lurking deep in the depths underneath. So although it is a genuine analog poly, it does not have the genuine interface of an analog poly.

Let me be clear. I am not complaining. A month or so ago I was complaining ("why, oh why hadn't I bought the Poly Evolver! "). I kept imaging the kind of poly synth I was really looking for. I realized it was basically my Prophet 600 with a bit more modulation routing, an extra LFO, an extra envelope and maybe some overdrive in the VCA. But as my mind wandered I realized something: I have that synth, it is my new beautiful A6 that I keep ignoring. So, I realized, rather than whining, I ought to shut up and actually get to work. Time for some serious menu diving.

So I signed up for the A6 forum. I asked the folks there how the heck I could tell the difference between the pre-wired modulation routings and all the multitude of software derived modes via menu-diving. They kindly and politely told me one thing: stop whining and build your own blank patch. The process of zeroing everything out (and they did mean everything) would, itself, teach me all the modulation routings while at the same time provide me with my own tailored start-up patch for building my own.

Well, of course, they were absolutely right, and I am so glad for the kindly forum advice I received. I've become familiar with this strict machine, and am beginning to take some joy in programming it. There are things that are still a mystery to me, of course. But I have much more of a handle on the device. It turns out I am not an idiot. It turns out I actually do have some basic talent and knack at analog synthesis. I am looking forward to future posts where I can show off some of my own A6 patches. Right now I am just having fun making my FM-ed oscillators scream in all their metallic glory. Which leads me to the final reflections of this post and check-in.

With my complaining days behind me, I have begun more rationally to reflect upon what it was that led me to that initial and unnecessary despair at programming my A6 in the first place. And I hinted at it above. It is genuinely analog, that is to say, at least in terms of its VCOs, VCFs and VCAs, which is good enough for me. But its user interface is not genuine analog poly. That is why I included a picture of the patch-chart for a p600 patch, above. Look at its beautiful simplicity. What you see is what you get. No secrets under the hood. If a knob is turned one way you know that it is really turning and churning the electricity (although, sadly, it is true that there is pixilation with regards to the p600 because of the way in which the pots had to be digitally mapped in order for its patch memory to work).

So, two reflections. First, part of the beauty of the analog poly was just exactly the way in which in limited your choices. It was the pre-patched and pre-made-choices, at least in part, that gave each analog poly its distinctive voice, tone, feel. You are forced to work with what you have got. And the limited canvas forces creativity. Standing before my A6, I realize that sometimes I am stunned by the possibilities. The way I get around that now is by building, in my mind, the analog poly I want to pretend that I am working with. I set those "hard-wired" parameters in the menus then I work within my artificially derived limitations. So, again, don't get me wrong. I love my A6. I am delighted that I get to build my own imagined limitations. All I am saying is that the user interface itself forces me to loose the humble familiarity that I feel when I start playing around with my p600.

Frankly, I just don't know how the modular-kings do it. Jealous? Yes, of course. But, paradoxically, content. Besides, comparing the analog poly to a modular just isn't fair. Did the analog poly evolve, technologically, from the modulars before it? Yes, of course. But I am beginning to see them as really different electronic musical tools. Some synth histories tell the story as though the development of the analog poly was like a great fall from glory and grace, or like the decline of the Roman Empire. But the story doesn't have to be told that way. When I think of the lush tones that come out of a Crumar Performer, it just can't be compared with, say, a screaming lead out of a Moog. It's apples and oranges. And I like both. But I lean towards oranges. And what if the move from modular to poly is like the decline of Rome; and what if that decline is a good thing. You know, like it is actually sometimes nice to throw off the oppression of imperialism.

The analog poly inspired its own kind of music, especially in the realm of pop. It is what defined the early 1980s. No analog poly, no Prince, no Duran Duran, no Peter Gabriel. They could not have made those arrangements, even with a string of modulars acting polyphonically. The poly is its own kind of synth.

But where my mind is wandering next is towards what exactly it is about analog that drove me to give up my powerful Korg Wavestation? Why is analog "better" than digital in this regard? I don't mean in some audiophilic kind of way. I mean metaphysically. I think it is about the difference between analogy and univocity, between participation and representation. But, alas, it is late, I am tired, and such ruminations really deserve their own post. So that's all I've got for now. Thanks for following, and thanks for the support. Peace

of alchemy and analog synthesists

Ahh, for those good old days when synths were big, bulky and mysterious.

I was born in 1974, but I musically identify most with the stuff that was going on right around that time, say, 1972 through about 1984. The rise of the analog (as opposed to the purely modular) synth through the rise and fall of the analog poly. When digital comes in, I just loose interest. Eno can have his DX7 - he is the only one I can think of who pulls anything interesting out of it. Sure, at the time the digitals came out, I was just getting into synthesis and, as with any industry driven by technology, I was swept up into the turn to digital and that is what compelled me to buy my Wavestation in 1993 with a small inheritance I received. I don't regret it. But I also don't miss it. I am happily learning my Andromeda instead. I am grateful for the return to analogue in this first decade of the twenty first century. It feels a bit like coming home.

As a little kid in the age of new wave I remember listening to music and already being able to single out that strange instrument with a keyboard on it that I knew wasn't a piano - or even like my old great aunt's organ. Finally, I heard the word - synthesizer - and that it was about electricity - and it was instant love.

I remember the way that Gary Numan's "Cars" or Tom Petty's "You Got Lucky" would make me feel. I won't say other-worldly. It definitely had to do with our own world - in fact, very deeply and primally so. I won't say "technological" either. It was more like alchemy, like mad science. I guess that is why Thomas Dolby (steam punk for sure) is a hero to me, while Vince Clarke (who is certainly a great synthesist and programer - no argument here, but he) just doesn't do anything for me.

I've said here before that I don't like synth pop. Yet - and here I am letting the cat out of the bag - I love Duran Duran; and Nick Rhodes is, well, a big synth-hero to me. (Excuse: I was a kid and I did not understand or even know about the weird teenage girl cult-following. That stuff still makes me feel queasy.) What is going on here? I have been grappling with this seeming inconsistency. I think the thing to me is: does the use of the synthesizer make you feel like a robot, a guy with a fetish for the synthetic - or does it make you feel like a sorcerer - like a conjuror. (Sometimes robot is good, so long as you have a sense of humor about it, like Kraftwerk or Devo.)

So this is a post of respect to a few of the synthesists that were certainly involved in pop music (other than everybody's dead-obvious Brian Eno - he isn't a hero, he is a god - for crying outloud; he isn't a synthesist - he is an alchemist of recording technology, and that is enough said for now), but not necessarily in "techno" that is to say, pop enamored with technology. Rather, to me, they used technology alchemically to conjure experiences for their listeners.

I begin with Nick Rhodes of Duran Duran. His first synth: an EDP WASP. Followed by the Crumar Performer string synthesizer (one of the early very limited poly synths). He would later use the Prophet 5 and both the Jupiter 8 and 4. He did pick up a Fairlight CMI, but has continued using analog: he currently uses the Andromeda A6 (yeay!). Okay, so their videos are notoriously more like little surreal movies - which means no synth shots. I picked something from their reunion a couple of years ago so that you could actually see the man at work:

Going back to some straightforward punk new wave, I love listening to Blondie's Jimmy Destri with his old school synthesis backed up with his organ and rhodes piano - hey, he had to get polyphony somehow! Alchemy? I don't know, but it sure is fun, and he is a pioneer:

On the other side of the pond we had Japan, confused by krautrock, too early to be new romantic, to late to be glam. They missed the boat in terms of becoming pop idols. Duran Duran took that for them. But they were probably the better for it. Richard Barbieri has had a great career not worrying about staying popular (like it seems to me that Duran Duran has tried to do to a certain degree). So here is some early Japan. Check out Barbieri's Oberheim and modular (can anybody identify what kind it is at around 2:48?):

Here is somebody's video art to a more recent track by Barbieri showing his developed synthesizer style. Ignore the vid, enjoy the music:

_______

For the handful of folks out there following my web log: I am sorry I have been away for a while. I have had a month full of life changing events that took all week to deal with, either leading up to or coming down from said events. Family changes, vocational work, ecclesiastical affairs. When things like these come along, my avocation suffers. I look forward to the next two months of summer. I hope to share some productivity. I was very productive at the end of may, but what I produced was children's music for my boy! I shared that, more appropriately, on our family blog. Anyway, thanks for your patience and thanks for following. Peace.

progress plot

Life has a way of getting in the way of living sometimes. Having time for my avocation is certainly something I want to prioritize - if for nothing else than my own sanity. There is, however, something to the word "avocation" that indicates that it must hold only a relative place of importance in one's scheme of things.

Good things have been happening vocationally recently. Lots of good creativity. That is, of course, the point of a sabbatical. And I am happy about it. And big things have been happening in my life as well. Lots of family joys and sorrows all at once.

That being said, avocational productivity is down these days while learning, thankfully, plods on. The Andromeda is massive. I will try to just get a sine wave out of the thing and, as warned, I have to sort through menus and manuals to figure out why I hear overtones! The filter is still whining - why? Haven't I turned down all the resonance? Okay - Where is the modulation routing to the resonance? Etc, etc. Oh, well. I still love it!

The Andromeda and the Prophet sound great together. I will have to record a sample and share soon. Something about analog with analog. You just can't beat it. I even love it when they are slightly out of tune with one another. I am also loving the Prophet ever more as I have an analog beast to compare it to. The P600 is lovely in her simplicity.

I think I will commit to a week of production before the summer is out. I want to do the whole "make an album in a day" thing, but, instead, turn it into a week. I'm going to go for about six songs. Pop music is what I am hearing in my head these days. Really cheesy, dance-y, disco-y kind of stuff. So, a pop song a day? It should be fun. I have a tentative name for the album: "cliché." That should free me from lofty expectations. Until then, thanks for the encouragement.

intergalactic arrival

Knobs, knobs, knobs. Joy, joy, joy. Knobs, knobs, knobs.

I got a phone call on Easter Monday. The guy at the music store said that the Easter Bunny brought me a surprise earlier than expected. Cool. An alien arrival from Andromeda (perhaps a strain?).

So I've had a week full of personal and professional busyness with little time to get to know this alien thing. I am happy to have found that I actually have enough experience with subtractive synthesis that I am not entirely lost. And I've done enough digital that I am not entirely inept with regards to all the inevitable menu searching that I still must use (ugh!) to program this alien. (And seeing as how I am not Brian Eno) I did take the time to read the (rather confusingly written) manual cover to cover. Still, how the heck do I just get some LFO to the filter cut-off?! . . . But it is fantastic!

So I'm not used to having two (real, analog) filters. Here is a (bit too long) little sample of me noodling with both filters' cut-off, resonance and the envelope modifying their cut-off.

Filter 1 is inverse BP, filter 2 is in parallel with filter 1, about evenly mixed. I know it is a little bit cheesy sci-fi of me, but I love that kind of Frankenstein synthesizer stuff! Add some world beat rhythm bed, a nice frenetic guitar line, some tricked out recording of somebody preaching madly (and about ten times as much talent/skill) and I'm heading for a track in the Eno/Byrne style!

Next: what is better than an Alesis Andromeda A6? An Alesis Andromeda A6 triggered by some cool monome application. I'll have to think about that one. Peace

Paschal Joy

Happy Easter!

I find Daedelus' video, "LA Nocturn," to be about new life and a new way of seeing things. So what better monome way to send wishes for a joyful celebration of the Resurrection of Our Lord?

Daedelus is one of the pillars of the monome community. In fact, I think he was the first person to purchase a monome device from its creator (tehn), making him, therefore, the second user of the monome device in the world. He has become, really, a monome "virtuoso." He is well known for his "arm flinging" technique which makes sense (the application he uses triggers upon release, rather than pressing of the buttons; his "flinging"  ensures proper timing) and is also just cool to watch. It shows his excitement and gets you into the music as well. But he also has great videos, so check those out too.

Easter peace

Plotting the learning curve

Lots of web logs out there "document the creative process." That is fantastic. I follow those kinds of web logs and I attempt to maintain that kind of web logging here. But what I have come to discover is that I need also to accept the kind of learning curve that I've got to deal with in terms of my creative avocations. So I've got to document not just my creative process but also my slide down the various learning curves that I've got to manage.

Last January, inspired by another web-logger's (Stretta's) year-end-review, I published my own "production principles." With as much as I have to learn, they seem a bit comical to me now. So this post is kind of a response to my own previous post. I need not only principles guiding my creative process, but some way to make sense of managing my steep learning curve and keeping a balance between actually producing something and all the study time I need in my project studio (for musical and sonic pursuits) and with the artists who guide my study of iconography and sacred architecture. They say that half the journey is getting there. I am the type that wants to be there already. So I quickly and easily get impatient with myself or discouraged by the sheer amount of in-depth and arcane knowledge possible for (and sometimes demanded by) the creative avocations I have come to pursue.

I sometimes feel overwhelmed by the shear volume of area that my interests cover. In terms of my sonic and musical pursuits:

• programming, which includes
  
• synthesis,
  
• use of the multitude of applications for the monome device
  
• sequencing in general and
  
• drum-patterning in particular
  
• musical composition (be that ambient or "pop")
  
• sound capture and
  
• use of my digital audio workstation ("DAW," e.g., Logic)
  
• possibly needing to learn another DAW (i.e., Live when it comes out combined with MAX/msp)
  
• possibly learning to program monome applications (with the bundled MAX)
  
• guitar (again)?
  

In terms of sacred images and architecture:

• their history
  
• their theology
  
• their multiple styles
  
• drawing technique
  
• painting technique
  

The above bullet points cover vast tracts of learning territory. Then there is learning how to share the products of one's creativity after one has finally learned enough actually to produce something worth sharing!

• web publishing through one's web log
  
• "sharing" through (sane use of) forums
  
• "sharing" files through social networks (Vimeo, Soundcloud)
  

Some of these have a steeper learning curve than others. Some I recall well from my high school garage-band days. Some, like the iconography and architecture, are really quite new to me. Some I feel comfortable with at this point (e.g., managing my web log), others I feel intimidated by (e.g., the vulnerability I feel when sharing my amateur tracks on Soundcloud).

So, for perspective's sake, I'll do a little review. I recently looked back over receipts with regard to purchases for my project studio. It has helped me form a timeline of acquisition directly proportional to a timeline of my learning curve.

I hadn't broken out my synthesizers and fired them up for, say, about four years until last January of 2008. I was playing them through a crappy four-channel radio shack mixer into an old borrowed guitar amp.

Last March (2008), two months after I finally turned my synthesizers back on, I bought a real mixer, monitors, my Korg Kaoss Pad, and all the stuff to connect the power, the audio and the MIDI to one another and into my computer. I still didn't have a DAW other than the free Garageband that came with my apple and the "Live Lite" that came as trial software with my M-Audio Audiophile.

Finally, in May (2008) I bought Logic Express. The last time I tried to mix my computer with my synthesizers was back in 1993 when I bought Opcode's Vision. I tried to run it on my little Mac Classic II and it just crashed every time. It was about that time that I started dedicating all my energy to my vocation and left music to just the listening category. So, as of this post, I've only been learning DAW technology for about 10 months. In my old garage band I certainly sequenced using my awesome MMT8, but I didn't also have to serve as my own producer, engineer, mixer, master-er, and "publisher." When I write these things down, they give me perspective. I guess I feel like I've been learning pretty well so far!

I finally picked up a decent quality home studio microphone in October (2008). So that launched me into the need to learn something about audible sound capture (as opposed to simple "line-in" from my synthesizers). It was also about that time that the glorious email from monome.org came letting me know that my "device" was "ready" for order. And that is when things avocational really started to change for me.

I received my monome 64 in November (2008). So I have only been working on learning how to integrate its nearly mind-boggling capabilities into my (still only hypothetical) "work flow" for about five months. Wow. That is good for me to read. I guess as of right now I've decided that I am right on track with my learning curve!

My monome device and the amazing monome community was what initially inspired me to go crazy and start up this web log. I am glad that I did. It has been fun and I have enjoyed the interactions, inspirations and communications that it has allowed me to be a part of. It is far more fun pursuing an avocation with others who share a common interest and are supportive.

I am so thankful and joyful to be back in the world of creativity, especially that of sound and music. More plotting of my learning curve to come. Thanks for reading, and thanks for all the encouragement I have received along the way. So here is to more learning - and the gift of more, inspired creativity I have come to know that I can expect. Peace

less (control) more (expression)

Sometimes, at least for me, the less complex my synthesizer controller is, the more actual musical expression I wind up finding. I think this is just another way in which the minimalist maxim, "less is more," manifests in my own creativity.

That is where my little Korg nanokey comes in. I picked this up as soon as it came out in order to have a cheap, packable and easily portable MIDI controller.

Lots of folks are complaining about this little thing already, but that is because, in my humble guess, they have set up false expectations for themselves. They look at this tiny cheap little plastic thing and say "small keyboard controller," instead of, more accurately, saying "alternative controller." This thing only vaguely resembles a piano, organ or "synth" keyboard. And although it supports velocity sensitivity, it is more like the felt-like pad of the WASP than a keyboard of any caliber. When you set aside the notion that you are playing a keyboard and instead say, "this is a tiny, portable, velocity sensitive alternative controller," then you can let go and have a lot of fun with this little interface.

I love monome devices just exactly because they are not keyboards. They do not support velocity or aftertouch - and that is something good about them. The limit keeps their use sane. Instead, for example, the sixty four supports "tilt," and the 40h has its own kind of accelerometer. By sensing the relative position of the unit to the horizon, one can achieve interesting and even beautiful expression by "mapping" things like note duration, relative volume and tone to the position that one is holding the device. This allows a totally different kind of interface that nevertheless allows for expression. But for me, the kind of expression it allows "maps" better to the kind of instrument a synthesizer is - electronic.

What I mean is that a synthesizer is already an "alternative" instrument when compared to previous, traditional, non-electronic instruments. To expect an old traditional interface, like a piano or organ keyboard, to make sense in conjunction with an electronic instrument just doesn't always make sense. The first synthesizers were almost entirely triggered by analog sequencers: so nobody "played" them "live," or expected that kind of "expression." When Moog added a keyboard to it and marketed it, many "purists" complained. Now, most folks can't imagine a "synthesizer" as anything other than a "keyboard," and for those not interested in synthesis, the terms are often used (sadly) equivocally.

So folks have come up with some unbelievably cool ways to interface with a synth that allows far more expressive control. But one of the things I often like about the synthesizer is the way in which it often provides a far more limited dynamic horizon - like an organ where one must directly add more stops or just turn up the pump to get more volume and tone. You can't play an organ like a drum - or even like a piano. And that is okay. An organ is still quite expressive. When I play a synth, sometime I don't want velocity sensitivity - I find it distracting. I can't play it like a drum either - you can't hit an oscillator with a stick. I like my Prophet because the expression often comes in the way that I set up the envelope and trigger it with the keyboard, rather than through setting a velocity value to some parameter.

So when I first used the nanokey, I found myself not content to leave it on the table surface in front of me. I picked it up and rested it on my left forearm so that I could bring it to up to my right hand as I played the keys. Because it really feels nothing like a traditional keyboard, I find myself not falling into the typical (over-used and, to me, now disappointing) patterns in which my hands habitually fall on a regular keyboard. What can I say? It was fun. I was "jammin'."

This post is, in a small way, a response to a series of posts by Stretta - a professional musician - who has been commenting on the problems of getting synthesizers to be as expressive as traditional, non-electronic instruments. I love following his blog, and often find myself agreeing with his opinions on things.

Well, Stretta is absolutely right. Synthesizers are capable of real expression and musicality. For someone with truly developed musical talent and skills, more expressive control of synthesizers is imperative. But it set me off, comparing my own meager "skills" to that of a professional musician again, and I started to worry and fret and . . . you get the picture. So, upon further reflection, I realized that I actually like how relatively "unexpressive" a synth can be. The limit doesn't kill expression. It just provides boundaries within which, at least someone with my level of talent and skill, can find meaningful expression. The limitation frees me to be more expressive than when I feel lost in a sea of possibility.

I am not being Pollyanna here because, in my sane moments, free from regret that I majored in philosophy instead of music, I am happy that real, skilled, trained musicians can handle the kind of subtleties that "more expressive control" gives them. And I love listening to, enjoying, and being inspired by the results of such good musicians. I am also happy that there is a musical and aesthetic philosophy out there - minimalism - that lets me, on the other hand, express myself unapologetically: less control gives me, in this case, more expression.

Now, back to my sixty four and nano! Thanks for reading and thanks for the encouragement.

minimalist ambient punk

Okay, so I got to asking myself recently: what does ambient music and punk (new wave) have in common that I keep listening to them and drawing enjoyment and inspiration from them both? Other than the fact that Brian Eno was there at the birthing of both of them, midwife to one, father to the other.

Let me provide some examples to make this clear. How is it that I can thoroughly enjoy listening (and watching) something like this:

Miraflores Locks from stretta on Vimeo.

And then turn around and also thoroughly enjoy listening (and watching) something like this.

(BTW: The Ting Tings and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs are my current fave punk / new wave bands. The YYYs are a bit dark and/or 'inappropriate' at times. But, nevertheless they have this ebullience that I am talking about below and that I find really attractive.)

Eno once said about his shift from rock music to ambient music that rock and roll was essentially an adolescent kind of music. He had grown out of it, so to speak. He was ready to do something more adult, mature, beautiful. I basically want to agree with this. And all that I dislike about a rock song, when I dislike a rock song, can usually be summed up by saying something along the lines of "O my, that is just so adolescent." I am not in high school anymore. Thank God. And I never want to go back.

For all this I find the joy I take in these seemingly disparate forms of music to actually be quite similar in the end, if not in their respective means. What I mean is that dance/pop punk (new wave) and ambient music are both, for me, about the positive release of positive energy. And by positive energy I do not mean "happy happy." I just mean that the emotion is real, authentic, and builds up, rather than tears away at, reality. In the end, with either genera, I wind up feeling happy and relaxed. But with one, that state comes through a kind of ebullient and energetic release of energy (new wave), the other through a more relaxed meditation.

Okay, brief aside: why do I keep calling this stuff "punk" and putting "new wave" in parentheses. Well, I would just call this stuff straightforwardly "New Wave," but when you say that people start thinking that you are talking about something that includes, mainly, groups like Human League or Naked Eyes instead of something that originally was wide enough to encompass groups like Tom Petty's Heartbreakers or the Pretenders, as well as, of course, the Talking Heads, Ramones and Blondie. By New Wave I do not mean "synth pop" (which usually bugs me: "so adolescent"). So when I talk to folks about what rock I like, rather than explain the shared but divergent history of Punk and New Wave, proper, I just say: I like fun, non-political punk music. Good enough.

Now, back to my commentary: So, in the end, I feel as though I have encountered and released positive energy when I engage these two kinds of music. And, as different as they seem in means, I see some similarities. They both adhere to a kind of minimalist philosophy of music. They both latch on to simplicity and accessibility. Ambient may use modes, but they are tonal. New Wave punk may use distortion, but we can all sing along with the chorus when it comes back round. New Wave and Punk both call for a return to a more simple, "any body can do this and have fun" philosophy of Rock music. Ambient music calls for quieting down, slowing down, and listening to the beauty in the tonality of what surrounds us.

They both adhere to a kind of DIY philosophy: anybody can pick up a guitar and slam out some fun punk; anybody can do some field recordings and send it through an effects processor. Eno is always glorying in the "fact" (questionable) that he is "not really a musician." Hmph. I sure wish I were as good of a "not real musician" as Eno! Well, anyway, we get the point.

I keep coming back to ambient music, and keep trying to create my own, because of its adult, mature, honest simplicity. If rock music is "three chords, a red guitar and the truth," then ambient music is (I just made this up, tell me what you think, or give me your better version): "three modes a colorful formant and a sense of beauty."

When I turn to new wave and punk, I don't find myself attracted (anymore) to the aggression in some of it, nor the overtly anarchist politics of others. I avoid that stuff now. That is the stuff that reminds me of all that I remember hating about being a teenager. I keep coming back to the new wave and punk stuff that is fun, almost "pre-adolescent:" an ebullience for life that says "dance," "jump up and down," release this energy, have fun, and help others feel good too.

It is, however, hard, as a guy with a "hobby" project studio to make dance punk at home. I guess I better buy a pickup for my acoustic guitar! Next, I think I need to post about why I dig the minimalist aesthetic, whether in rock or in other electronic forms of music, like ambient music.

Here is the question I'll have to ask myself: am I a minimalist out of some kind of legitimate philosophical position? or just because I lack virtuoso musical skills and I'm just Pollyanna?! Thanks for reading, and thanks for the support.

Production principles

I have two reasons for writing down my current account of my avocational "production principles." The first is that, being the first month of the year, it just seemed like an appropriate time to "officially" get these out of my mind and out there to read. The second, and probably most important, is that I've felt some unnecessary pressure with regards to my avocation recently. I've felt unproductive. And I have been disappointed in what I have made. I realized, however, that I was comparing myself to professionals and folks with more training in music, production and the arts. I had to remember that this is my avocation - not my vocation. So it is okay for me to expect amateur results from myself. So, here goes.

Keep joy central

Joy (or, vulgarly, "fun"), after all, is the whole point of pursuing anything avocationally. So this is my whole purpose in returning to music and (sacred) art as a "hobby" (what a horrible word).

• use presets shamelessly
• when frustrated, always ask myself: "why am I doing this?"

It is okay to use presets, especially in my DAW (Digital Audio Workstation, which is to say, musical production software). I am not an engineer or producer. The presets do what they are supposed to do. I will not make something stellar, or "unique." But I will make something that sounds acceptable and allows me, in some way, some artistic expression. Good enough (see the principle "No perfectionism," below).

Minimalism

A general aesthetic philosophy of minimalism needs to be the main principle driving my approach to composition, whether musical or iconographical (or architectural). And this for several reasons, both philosophical and practical. Philosophically, I just have an appreciation for and a loose commitment to (sacred) minimalism. I will write a commentary or theoria post on why some other time. Practically, these artistic pursuits are not my vocation. I will only stress myself out expecting professional or virtuoso results from my amateur and self-trained capacity, skill and time.

• simplicity
• unimportant / non-serious
• limits = paramaters for creativity (a good thing)

My old roommate, Tommy Falby, taught me the importance of the word "non-serious." Brian Eno says, "regard your limitations as secret strengths. Or as constraints that you can make use of." The very fact that he ends his sentence with a preposition is a case in point.

No perfectionism

The principle of "non-perfection," literally "in-completion," is obviously related to and a corollary of the previous two principles of "keeping joy central," and "minimalism." "No perfection" is my principle for recording, and for using and knowing my DAW for audio capture in general.

• record without fear
• snappy / quick
• take the 1st take
• "mistakes" = "hidden" intentions

Again, Eno: "honor thy mistakes as hidden intentions." That is, when it generates something new and unexpected. Not simply because you've played off beat or you've screwed up the sound irreconcilably!

Explore sounds and timbre

The exploration of sound generation and timbre manipulation is the goal behind any creative use of synthesis in general. So this is nothing too profound. Expect for one thing. It is amazing, as an amateur synthesist, how often I will forget this. I forget the central joy of exploration and go for perfection, where perfection is understood as finality. It is amazing how often I will get stuck with a crappy sound because I keep trying to get it ready to "save" as a preset. Now, this is in no contrast to "use presets," above, under "keep joy central." No, I use presets in areas I don't care or haven't had time to learn, e.g. setting up a track to record vocals. Logic Express sets it up for me good enough for now. No, I mean presets with regards to synthesizers. And even there it is OKAY. So long as I remember two things:

• play with synthesizer presets shamelessly and without fear of "loosing it"
• don't leave my prophet 600's knobs in the same place between two sessions

In general, I really don't save presets. I treat my synthesizers as if they don't have memory. But that freaks me out when I like a sound. I have to kiss them goodbye and let them go.

Best quality gear (that is moderately priced)

Clearly, this principle is about gear acquisition and the avoidance of "gear lust."

• analog synthesis (in the main)
• digital control (sequencing, arpeggiating) and capture (DAW)
• not modular
• not "better," only "different"

I learned the distinction between analog "hardware" and digital "software" from Stretta on his bio page. I liked it so I am adopting it too. I have to set (even if artificial) boundaries for myself to keep this thing an avocation and not pretend that this is my vocation. So, as cool as modular synths are, they eat money and require a level of skill and theory in synthesis that I would only frustrate myself in trying to achieve. Instead, I'll go for the best quality poly analog synths and enjoy other people's use of their modular systems without envy (this is a principle, of course, we'll see how well I put it into practice!). More knobs, gears, and choices do not necessarily equal "better." But if I see something that would really help me create something new altogether, well, then maybe I will allow myself to consider it!

Thanks for reading the post. If anybody reads this out there and likes it or has anything to add or suggest, let me know and please comment. Other musicians, what do you think? If you are professional or otherwise virtuoso, what do you think of these as principles for a non-virtuoso amateur? Thanks!

Joyous Noël

Merry Christmas, all! May you find joy as we remember the Word (Pattern) made flesh (stuff).

monome kling glöckchen from occular on Vimeo.

Celebrate Christmas the monome way!

Occular posted this little German Christmas carol using the lucid musical qualities of the first draft of Stretta's tintinnabulome app, developed in response to a brainstorm I started in the monome community. Stretta wrote this initial version without even having a monome around! I started the brainstorm inspired by my post of respect with regards to Arvo Pärt's work. Much thanks to Stretta, occular, and the monome community.

Christmas Peace

Loving the Prophet

When I pulled out my old synths and decided to return to music as an avocation, to keep me sane, etc., I realized that, although I loved the sounds produced by both my Sequential Circuits Prophet 600 (P600, 1983) and my Korg Wavestation EX (WS 1993), I did not like programming both of them. I simply did not (and still do not) care to learn the sound architecture and endless paging through endless menus that it takes to program the (supposedly technologically better) digital WS. But I love to program my P600.

The good news for an old school analog guy like me is that analog suddenly became cool again in the late '90s and that hasn't changed. Analog is still cool. They've come up with all sorts of "softsynths" (computer generated software synthesizers) that (attempt to) emulate the old analog sounds. Heck, I don't need that (you young music-store whippersnapper) I actually have an old synthesizer! (Although I love the softsynths that come with my DAW, Logic Express.)

Before I left the high school garage-band scene in the early '90s, I used to have to apologize for having an "old" analog synth like the P600 - I just couldn't afford better. But my heros were analog programmers and I secretly resented having to apologize in the first place! I loved my P600 then as I do now and knew it was a good synth. But I had teenaged gear lust and so was in conflict with myself over it. Now I can go into music stores and say "yeah, I've got an old P600 that still works (more or less) and hasn't even lost its presets!" and they all just say (if they even know what I'm talking about) "wow, cool. you'd better hold on to that." I intend to!

For over-all descriptions of these synthesizers, check out the links on their names in the paragraphs above (they link to articles about them on Vintage Synth Explorer; Google is good, of course). Here is a youtube video of a P600 in action. (The guy has somehow figured out how to sync this ancient beast to midi clock - yes, I am jealous.)

Here is why I am posting about this synth: I started to feel small and inferior to all the programming heros out there on the net now. Especially all the ones using their own RAD modular set ups. I started to think: if I were really cool, I'd ween myself away from the mere milk of hard-wired analog and start biting of chunks of the real meat of modular patch bays.

I mean I really started feeling the limitations of my little P600. It represents (one of the best of) the very first synths that were not only hard-wired rather than modular, but also designed to be economical and to remember patches in a little built-in dedicated computer. Not only that, but my P600 was THE first synthesizer on the commercial market that sported MIDI. Not bad. But to some, not good. Digital patch memory, MIDI, and the like, tended to pave the way for the "keyboards" to come. What I mean here are those electronic instruments with speakers built in to them that you can pick up at Mart or Radio Shack. Okay, so maybe I am still a snob about some things. Anyway, they weren't synthesizers - you couldn't program them.

Now, the P600 is programmable - but not fully. It already lost "patchability" by being analog rather than modular. That's okay, so did the Minimoog. But, I am guessing in order to enable digital patch recall, even the pots that it has are far more limited in scope than those you would find on the older early analogs. I mean, I just can't do as much with my little LFO as you can do on some of the other analogs and modulars! Not only is routing limited, but I can't go super slow or super fast - I can't push the edge of audibility like a "good" LFO should. That is because the P600 was kind of an early "keyboard": a cheaper, more portable, user friendly, factory preset presentable synth for those that wanted to gig but couldn't program or carry around a Rhodes or an organ. "Nothing funky or weird here please, I just need to bang out some chords." Humph.

Anyway, these were where my sad and gear-related self-deprecating thoughts had been meandering for a while. Until I returned to the roots. Among those who program synthesizers (at least the circles with which I care to associate) if you can ground your thought or practice on something Brian Eno has ever said or done then you are good to go. Quoting or referencing Eno is like quoting the Bible or the constitution in other circles. (Check out his site.)

I remembered how Eric Tamm in his book about Eno described how Eno hated synthesizers with lots of options. And that for all sorts of (good, in my mind) reasons. It violated some of Eno's notions of the value of minimalism. When you lower your options, that is, create creative boundaries for yourself as an artist, you actually boost creativity, productivity. Eno also eschews gear-lust: the notion that newer features and more features always means a better instrument. Eno used his EMS AKS almost exclusively for over a decade. Then he switched to his DX7 for at least that long, and, as far as I know, is still using (several of) them. Limiting possibilities, learning what you know intimately well = good. So too having six amazing sounds rather than 6000 mediocre ones.

So, I defer to the master. I am no Brian Eno, but darn it, my little P600 is my DX7! And I am sticking to it. (Another example: I have a Korg Kaoss Pad KP3. It is rad. I have left it on the same effect, "Talk Filter," pretty much since buying it. I still haven't exhausted how cool that effect is, so I'm shamelessly and unapologetically sticking to it for a while!)

Another example: I've recently decided that I can never tire of filter sweeps. As far as I am concerned, from now until I die (unless I should change my mind, to which I reserve the right) I'm going to have a filter sweep in every piece I produce (that is, assuming I ever actually finish something).

Future posts: commentary on some of my ground rules and practices for musical productivity and some theoria on the notion of limiting possibilities in order to unfetter creativity as a parallel to ascesis.

Thanks for reading, thanks for the support, and three cheers for my Prophet 600!

Behind the name

In St. John, as in Ezekiel, these four animals, or rather, these four "living creatures," are the epitome of creation, because of all creatures they are the noblest.

-- Louis Charbonneau-Lassay: The Bestiary of Christ

Theology and teaching are my vocation.

My current career focuses on the worship of the church.

I have always been musical and I have some basic visual artistic talent and interests.

I love music and art that points beyond itself, that participates in the sacred.

I have sung in many choirs; I dabble with keyboard instruments and the guitar. I enjoy synthesizer programming, especially analog. I enjoy attempting to write traditional icons and other forms of sacred images.

I love minimalism, sacred minimalism, ambient and popular music with synthesizers (but not synth pop).

I was inspired to maintain this web log when I received my monome 64.

I appreciate the monome community and consider it a privilege to be (even a minimal) part of it.

So why "Tetramorph"? There are several intersecting reasons:

An angelology of forms and patterns participating in ever overlapping hierarchies that generate almost infinite unique concrete manifestations inspires my meditation on the "decoupled grid" that is the monome.

Tetra = four (64, 128, 256); Morph = form, pattern (application, sequence, progression).

Music, art, creative work, theurgy as means of meditating on the transcendent within creation, and that, in turn, as a means of contemplating on the Source of creation, all gives me the desire to contemplate the Tetramorph.

Not too much good stuff about the Tetramorph on line, but try Wikipedia.

Thanks for reading, and encouraging! Peace.