The Process: Here and Now…

There is nothing more ironic for a musician as the moment where they forget how to play their own songs.  And I have been enjoying a lot of irony of late.

If it seems like I am going to California every other week, it’s about right.  As I have mentioned before, Shai Azul is one of several projects.  As much as I enjoy making music with Oily, Tanya, Kelly, Vic, and Anthony, it doesn’t pay the bills.  That isn’t too weird.  It’s rare that ANY artist can pay the bills with their art form.  So I have been spending a lot of time with the theatre troupe in the last 2 months, helping them get ready for tour, rehearsing the players, driving, and generally trying to pass on everything I know to people half my age.

And they are presently on tour.  In California. 

Admittedly the reason I am going THIS time is because a friend asked if I would help her company out at San Diego Comic Con.  I have never been.  Should be fun. 

Still, that’s a lot of time between recording sessions.  Last week I finally had an uninterrupted stretch to get some work done on the second compilation of songs.  And it was hilarious how much I had forgotten of my own music. 

The scratch tracks for most of these songs are 4-6 months old.  While I do take notes, sometimes I forget to write down the chord patterns.  That’s not too bad for guitar, since most of what we do there is riff-driven.  But I tend to play a lot of ambiguous-sounding patterns on the keyboards (5^th chords, suspended chords, and things that generally don’t imply a major/minor).  I also tend toward a gut-level approach with keys, playing what sounds ‘right’ and then figuring out the actual chord voicing later.  If I haven’t written this all down, then it’s a game of ‘guess the chord’.   Which, on some keyboard patches with lots of extra fiddly bits, can be a challenge. I struggled with one part for 3 hours before I realized that the arpeggio pattern I had put on the scratch track required actual chord voicings as opposed to single notes.

That’s written down now.

The most humbling indication that I have been away from the console for too long came on a new song called “Wasted/Wanted”.  This particular tune is the first collaboration between Vic and myself and is quickly becoming one of my faves.  Vic’s initial vision was for a strong keyboard hook, but as the tune developed, a relentless distorted bass guitar line came more to the forefront.  The scratch track came around in less than a few hours.  Then the tune simmered on the back burner until last week.  Well, I’m a bass player, right?  How long can it possibly take to cut a mix-ready version?  I’ve played on about half a dozen studio recordings in the past year.  Not like I don’t know what I’m doing.

Or not.  Took me about 30-40 passes to get it right.

Admittedly my studio doesn’t make overdubbing easy.  I am using a console-based digital deck for recording; no Pro Tools at this stage.  So I either have to be very quick with my button pressing (a very 80s’ way of doing it all) or program in the punch points.  But on this song specifically, the bass guitar NEVER LETS UP.  There’s not really any place to insert an overdub without making a digital ‘click’ because of the note spacing and distortion.  Even if I had Pro Tools with Chris at the command chair, this would be a hard song to punch in on.  And I kept screwing up either 15 seconds in (doesn’t take long to decide the overall performance isn’t where you want it to be) or 15 seconds from the END of the song. 

In the end, it all worked out.  The guitars went surprisingly fast (I was expecting to struggle with them since I hadn’t completely finalized the guitar grooves yet) and we added a few little keyboard treats that we many not even end up using. 

It even provided enough momentum to get some more drum programming done and dissect out chord charts for some of the other songs.

It only cost a little bit of professional pride. 

Cheap price to pay, really. 

-anoN

The Process: Development

Let me let you in on a secret. 

About 75% of what I write is crap. 

Is that pretty blunt? 

It’s meant to be. 

Because it’s true. 

I really don’t know how other artists work, but most of the time, my initial ideas for lyrics, songs, and melodies aren’t good enough to present to my Other, let alone anyone who might spend money on it.  It doesn’t mean I abandon those ideas.  Most of that stuff ends up turning into something that’s pretty decent.  But my music doesn’t spring fully formed from the head of Zeus.  It takes work. 

That’s not really that surprising, is it?  Saying otherwise would be like an author saying that their first draft is *THE* version of the book.  Or a sculptor looking at a rough-hewn lump of iron and going “This is complete”.  The creative process is…well…a process.  It gets better when you spend time on it.  One of the best things that my consulting producer Anthony suggested I do at the beginning of the project was to write for an hour a day.  Don’t have a goal… just write.  Get the ideas out on paper. I have a ton of ideas and songs because of that.  But very few of them are acceptable as written; they’re incoherent and random.  A good song says something, even if that something is abstract or metaphorical.  It still needs to be tight. 

As I mentioned in the last entry, a song will have most of the critical elements in place only if I am lucky.  Most of the time, I instead have a handful of riffs, some lyrics, and some vague idea of a melody.  At that point, it’s laying down a simple drum loop to kick things off (working without a metronome is asking for trouble) and literally sitting down with a guitar or a keyboard, throwing things up against the wall, and seeing what sticks.  If the melody is more defined, it’s usually easier to make the music around the melody than the other way around. But either way, it’s all about finding what ‘serves the tune’.

‘Serving the tune’ is a philosophy I learned early on in my career.  It’s the notion that every song you write has a natural tempo, groove, vibe, dynamic, and flow… you just need to find out what it is.  It’s a goal-oriented method that starts immediately with your beginning building blocks.  A sad, brooding tune will tend to have certain qualities; a fast, intense song others.  The tune will take its’ natural channel because of that. 

This is the place where verses, choruses, and bridges are crafted (intros and outros come later).  Most of the time, I will want distinction between all these parts so listeners know what’s coming up.  But that’s not always the case.  Again, every song is different.  Some songs don’t ‘ask’ for that.  “Only As”, from the early scratch tracks, only ‘asked’ for 2 parts, with the keyboard solo evolving out of a variation of the verse groove.  And yes, this kind of thing has been done before.  Want to know what inspired the music?  Check out ‘Controversy’ from Prince’s album of the same name.  I dare you. 

This really doesn’t take as long as it sounds.  Once things get rolling, like attracts like.  Guitar ideas suggest keyboard lines and vice versa.  Melodies suggest harmonies.  Bass grooves imply drum grooves.  And if I am with one of my collaborators, it’s usually a matter of having to stop adding layers to the idea.  After all, the goal is to get an idea of what the song COULD sound like, not total completion of the song. 

Once I have the outline, I will fill it out with a few instruments (usually keys, guitar, and bass so it’s a good representation of what I think the final song can be) and send it out to Vic, Kelly, Tanya, and Oily.  I will ask for their opinion.  A response of “Wow, this sucks” means I have missed the mark.  A response of “I don’t know what to do with this” usually means the same.  And that’s okay.  I have a hard drive full of ideas that haven’t quite found their voice yet.  If it clicks, then it’s up to the singers to work with basic melody lines, or if I haven’t come up with one, to make one up.  Tanya likes working without a net.  Kelly prefers melodies more defined.  Oily is somewhere in the middle. 

While the singers work on their part, I am usually writing more songs.  Of late, Vic and I are working a lot together.  I like his vibe.  I am more cerebral and metaphorical; he’s more gritty and sensual.  He also has a cool sense of groove that keeps me from going totally black metal on everyone. 

Once a song finally passes muster, then the real fun begins: Commitment. 

-anoN

The Process: Genesis

I get asked a lot about songwriting.  Where it comes from, what inspires, and how it all comes together. 

Easy question to ask on the surface.  Until you start unpacking it.  What’s a ‘song’?  If it’s just words and chords, then you’d think the component parts would be compelling on their own.  But there’s something about the combination that can make it quite a bit more than just poetry and a G-C-D strumming pattern.  People spend careers trying to understand this recipe, and opinions on the topic run all over the map.

I think we’re all trying to do the same thing, though… communicate the intangible.  Songwriters don’t want to tell you about a sunset. We want you to see the colors of the sky and feel the evening breeze on your face.  We don’t want to simply talk about our anger… we want your indignation to rise and your pulse pound with ours.

And that’s the thing that I find so cool about songwriting.  It’s open ended.  Now, if your goal is to write a pop country hit, there’s things you can, and should do, to hedge that bet (no longer than 3:30, get to business quickly, into the chorus by 45 seconds, write about things people can relate to, have a catchy, anthematic chorus, etc).  But really, it boils down to what you want to say and what you want to leave your listeners with. 

The down side of that is that inspiration often strikes when least expected, and from unusual places.  A visual image.  Something you hear on the bus.  A smell.  A sudden burst of emotion.  A memory.  An idea or a challenge.  Many’s the time I have awakened from sleep with a melody or a lyrical line teetering on the edge of perception.  I have learned to try to capture these fleeting moments.  Vic and I have both had the experience of stopping on the bike path and scribbling down ideas before they flit away like spooked mayflies.  (By the way, I have just given you the specific sources of inspiration for 4 of the songs on the upcoming compilation. True story…) 

No matter the initial inspiration, a ‘song’ will usually end up having three foundations.  A melody, a chord structure, and lyrics.  These foundations help make a song more memorable.  You might also use the term ‘hooky’.  Certainly you don’t *NEED* all these.  Black metal songs don’t follow this rule, with constantly changing chord progressions, dissonant melodies, and unintelligible lyrics.  Black metal will also never be as popular as pop music because of it.  …Okay, there’s also that whole misanthropic Satan thing that black metal embraces.  But you get the idea. 

If I am lucky, all of these parts will come together at once.  Supercollide was such a song; from the get-go I knew what chords to play and where the lyrics and melody would fit. That doesn’t usually happen, though.  More often than not it comes in bits and pieces.  I’ll have a cool riff, or lyric sets at varying levels of completion, or sometimes just a new keyboard patch that sounds like it could go somewhere.  Rockethead came from experiments with bass guitar tone.   More on THAT later. 

So.   When inspiration is often fickle or incomplete, what do you do?  Hard and fast rule: you don’t take it personally.  It’s par for the course; good songs rarely fall out of the metaphorical sky on golden tablets.  You take a breath, pour a drink, and roll up your sleeves, and Develop the song.  It’s a very rewarding (if often frustrating) process.

We’ll get into that next entry.

-anoN

“You Guys Sound Like Two Bands…”

This is a comment I have heard a lot about Shai Azul.  To which I enthusiastically reply.

“Yes.  Yes we do.”

Truth of the matter is that we probably sound like about 3-4 bands, depending on which song you listen to.  And it’s intentional.  In spite of the opinion I know that the local and national music industry holds on the topic.

I have no problem with a band having their ‘sound’.  It’s what makes you distinct amongst all the other bands out there.  It’s a good thing to have something that defines you as you, whether it’s your lead singer, or your beats, or your guitar riffs, or your attitude, or what have you.

The hazard there, though, is that your ‘sound’ turns into your rut. 

And I have been there.  I have been there when I find myself starting off a song and having to really focus on which tune it is, because it sounds suspiciously similar to about half a dozen other tunes the band has written.  I have found myself going “How many songs do we have at 100bpm??”  I have found myself struggling to make a song sound fresh when, ultimately, the band has used the same ingredients 20 times before.    

And all too often, in this season, I even find myself listening to a band I like.  And turning off the CD halfway through.   Because I have heard it all by the 6^th song.  I know what’s coming. That’s kind of disappointing. 

With Shai Azul, I want to have a ‘sound’ that’s defined our personalities and our passions.  And you know… that’s a really big category.  But it wasn’t so long ago that having a varied sonic experience on a record (remember those big waxy things?) was par for the course; even a good thing.  It was okay for the band to try different genres and styles, because it was still ‘the band’ doing it.  I want to be soft and loud and intense and retrospective and in your face and happy and angry and everything in between.  I’m not just one emotion; neither are you.  We are legion. 

I would rather take a chance and risk having you not like the tune as opposed to having your response be one of boredom and apathy.  I would rather that you screw up your face and go “Bleah” than have you listen to a whole CD and go “Enh.  Been there.  Done that.” 

The core of Shai Azul is heavy, melodic music.  We will stay close to that, because it’s what we like.  We won’t do a tune that sounds like a country and western song. 

…or maybe we will.  Hard to see it, but you never know.  But hey.  I honestly don’t expect you to like every little thing that we do.  I mean, my OWN opinion about the songs I write fluctuates on a daily basis.  I can’t expect any less of you.        

-anoN

On Being Creative…

My Other will occasionally look at me from across the table or in a quiet moment and ask me, “What’s it like to be creative?”

I don’t think I have ever answered the question to her satisfaction.

I mean, how do you quantify that?  My Other is a measurable genius. I suppose it would be kind of like asking her “What’s it like to be smart?”  It’s not like she has a point of reference; she just is.  She can’t separate herself from her synapses and mental processes anymore than she can separate her vena cava from the rest of her circulatory system.  

But while not all of us can be intellectual powerhouses… I believe ALL of us can be creative.  And are creative. 

I think we in the artistic community are often a little too protective of our turf.  We can make strange statements like “Everything the artist spits out is art”.  We can be purposefully oblique and toss our heads in disgust when people don’t ‘get it’.  We can be offensive, yet surprised when people take offense.    We have a bad tendency as a community to define creativity along our own lines, often to the exclusion of others who may not see the universe as we do. 

But every time we see patterns and want to recreate them… we are being creative. 

Every time we appreciate a piece of music... we are being creative. 

Every time we appreciate a sunset, because somehow this one is DIFFERENT from the one hundred sunsets preceding it…we are being creative. 

Every time a sports fan makes connections between hard statistics for their favorite pitcher… we are being creative. 

Every time we cook a meal, with all the many possibilities and ingredients… we are being creative.  

Every time we resolve a conflict… we are being creative. 

Creativity is not limited to the physical and sonic arts.  Creativity is an expression of who we ARE.  Creativity sees the bits and pieces, picks them up, and strings them together into a necklace.  It sees things as more than the sum of the parts.  Not because it HAS to… but because it WANTS to.  Whether it’s music, or sports, or food, or painting, or writing, or geophysics, or computers, or middle management.

Embrace your own creativity.  It’s already there. 

-anoN