April 2nd, 2013 § Comments Off on Slomped § permalink
Driving the bus. 4 minutes down on my third trip of the day. The 4th trip at 8:30 can be crazy on a Tuesday. All the kids go to their Tuesday classes, I guess. I say to myself, “I better pick up these 4 minutes or I’m going to get slomped.”
“Slomped.” Where did that come from? I thought about it for a few seconds and figured it must have been some kind of a synthesizing double elision between “slammed” and “stomped”. I thought about John Lennon’s advice to George Harrison about finding the right word for a lyric – “you just keep saying the line over and over and saying whatever comes to mind in the empty place.”
Something in the way she moves
Attracts me like a rutabega
I thought of Pete Maravich’s game when no one, least of all Pistol Pete, knew what physical genius was about to instantiate.
Stevie Wonder’s melisma. Charlie Parker’s phrasing.
And then I thought, “hey, I bet my elision was actually between ‘slammed’ and ‘swamped’.” I hadn’t even had immediate access to my own thought processes in retrospect.
Take a flyer.
Trust the universes to provide for the completion of the gesture.
Embark upon the worthy gesture at a moments notice.
In the course of reading various books on theatrical directing, I found my way to Harold Clurman’s On Directing. Now, I am interested in the theater, but I always find myself, perhaps inevitably, considering any thoughts I have concerning the theater as potentially applicable to my various musical endeavors. So it is with Clurman’s book. At the beginning of Chapter 7 – The Director’s Work Script – the author has this to say:
Having read the script six or more times and decided what the play’s main action or spine is, the director would then do well to study the play in still another way. He should read all the parts separately as if he himself were going to act each of them. This will help him find the spines of the chief motivating action for each character. The character’s spine must be conceived as emerging from the play’s main action. Where such a relation is not evident or non-existent, the character performs no function in the play. There is no basis for a true characterization unless the character’s prime motivation or spine is found.
Hmmm…this seems to be a particularly fertile metaphor for choices one makes in arranging and orchestrating music.
And again, with slightly cleaner sound, in Germany:
What a song. (By the way, read this Wikipedia article about songwriter Bert Berns.) What a singer. What a singer for this song. Piece of My Heart was always my favorite of Janis Joplin’s recordings. She just takes this thing – of course I’m talking about the chorus – through the roof. And what is it about this chorus, anyway? Well, there’s a build up the the chorus that eventually grows on a dominant chord for a full three bars before breaking into “Come on – take another little piece of my heart”. (Oh yeah – about Bert Berns – he also wrote Twist and Shout, another pop song that sits on the V chord for a week before breaking into a I IV V chorus with great backing vocals…) The horn stabs on the back beats. The ascending backing vocals that lead up to Janis’ “Take another little piece…” Eventually it stops on the IV chord – “You know you’ve got it…” and then actually quiets down for the verses.
It’s always interesting for me to speculate on whether a song embodies some Platonic ideal – whether a perfectly realized arrangement and performance is implicit in a song. Something about the Janis Joplin/Big Brother and the Holding Company arrangement – just the vibe of the thing – is transcendent. The singer meets the song and magic happens.
It isn’t even about how it sounds – the above recordings leave a lot to be desired. It’s just that Janis Joplin hops on this thing and takes a ride.
God bless you, Janis.
By the way, here’s audio of the original release of Piece of My Heart, recorded by Erma Franklin in 1967. I’d like to see/hear Erma Franklin doing this one live.
(Again on Bert Berns – the Isley Brothers cut Twist and Shout first (oops, second – The Top Notes were first in 1961) – and yet it’s the Beatles version and John Lennon’s vocal that will forever be the recording.)
The Internet is great. Basically, what we have here is a graphical (not notated) score of the Allegro from Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony scrolling by while you listen to a recording of the music. There are a bunch of these. Best to watch/listen in full screen.
From The Daily Dish. This one is worth sharing, and very much cleverer than the average art school project…
By the way, the music, which I like even though techno pop is generally not my cup of tea, is by Royksopp. Here’s a link to the video page at their site.
So…I went and looked and listened around. Truly the video is more interesting than the music. In the Deadline piece, they at least had a harmonic change thrown in at one point. A lot of the music just repeats the same thing over and over and over…
There is a problem implicit in using too many primitive 21st century thinking machines while writing music. The music gets locked in as code in an embryonic 21st century computer, and never has a chance to self-organize in the mature technological environment of the human bio-computer – which, after all, has been evolving for thousands, nay – millions of generations (if you count apes and early mammals and reptiles and whatever else we’ve evolved from all the way back to the most primitive self-organized nervous systems…)
I couldn’t think of anything worthwhile to write about at theWheel tonight, so I sat back down at the piano to dink around with my current top musical project.
I was working on – playing with – a setting of one of Arnold Lobel’s FABLES, The Baboon’s Umbrella, when Karen got out of bed and walked out to the piano in the living room to tell me how nice it sounded. This does not happen every day. She told me how she hears me playing so much that I become musical wallpaper, but she noticed this one tonight.
This compliment made my day – and it was a very good day – not so easy to put a topper on it. This afternoon was my daughter’s birthday party with lots of family. Then, earlier this evening, down to campus and Top of the Park to hear George Bedard and the Kingpins, a trio I used to play bass with back in the day, absolutely at the top of their game. Great blues based roots rock and roll music. Beautiful night – mid seventies – all of Ann Arbor out to celebrate summer.
Of course, I did not record whatever it was that I played that Karen thought was so nice, and somehow the effortless flow has not returned to me since. There is some kind of magic that happens sometimes, when I forget I’m playing music and just play – essentially idly goofing around in the space of some worthy musical attractor.
Is it more natural to play music brilliantly when said brilliance is not seen by the player to be that big of a deal?
Music composition is many things. I’ve looked at the process holistically here at theWheel on a couple of occasions.
Here’s a linear take.
Music composition is like a stream of water flowing from a hose down a dry driveway. Watch the little stream fall into a crack – flow north – oops, that’s all full – there’s a pool forming – will it break through? oh – there’s another pool at the same time… One of these pools is eventually going to overflow in a way that enables the water to find its way to that clear channel there that will certainly reach all the way to the curb.
The other morning I attended a 4th Grade Recorder concert (you know, the hooty little flutelike wind instruments) at my daughter’s elementary school. It was much as you might imagine. Several tunes were played by the whole 4th grade, but there were also several solos, which lead me to tonight’s topic…
Let me pass along an acting tip from Ian McKellen via Patrick Stewart:
Here’s the passage from Macbeth:
“She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.” — Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-28)
This little clip struck me as very interesting. It has something to say about acting craft and “the illusion of the first time”, but also implies we might use this craft to help us to live mindfully in the moment.
If we attend mindfully to the small things, to the conjunctions in our lives, might we not live more richly and truthfully?
Perhaps we might become more convincing actors in our own stories?