Produce, produce, produce.

Release.

(Involve others.)

Keep the circling mind in check. Do not obsess over an idea: you will kill its magic, temporarily, and maybe forever…

The work is about taming obsessive and destructive tendencies and distilling a certain wholeness of spirit and steadiness of gesture. At times you will feel this so utterly and explicitly that you will think the work is done and that you are ready for a victory lap. Resist. Take a deep breath and consider the well-documented evidence that suggests that victory lap will turn into a stale loop.

Enjoy the good times, but…
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Guitar tone has played an exceedingly important role in my musical development. When I was a kid, my six-string fixation fostered an appreciation for the harmonic series before I knew there was a harmonic series, improved my Deep Listening skills before I ever read about Pauline Oliveros, and instilled a love of drone and trance before I ever encountered Morton Feldman, La Monte Young, or Detroit techno. In some ways, the knowledge I’ve gained since then (in college and otherwise) has expanded my vocabulary for talking about the sounds I love, but sometimes I think maybe it has only served to amplify what I already knew innately. And amplify it does. Reverberant steel strings rattle, echo, and chime like a mantra in my mind, an Om of plucked, strummed, and fingerpicked tones.

Now that I have a stable source of income, I’m finally looking to get a guitar (or two) to match my lofty ideals. I’m thinking VINTAGE. I recently discovered that one of the finest used guitar stores I’ve ever visited is right around the corner from my office and I’ve already decided I’m going to get my next axe (or two) there. Leaning toward an old Martin 0-15 (prewar or early ’50s):

In the studio doing the final mixes on Penelope all week. Stay tuned for more…

Not sure that this really warrants an entire post, but I’ve been meaning to share this for a while.

The other day, my brother and I were enjoying a fine taco dinner at one of the many taco establishments on our block (my neighborhood has a very large latino population and there are about half a dozen incredible mexican restaurants just down the street from my apartment). While eating, we noticed that the radio in the restaurant was caught in the netherworld between two stations, one blasting a jazz trio and the other, mariachi music:

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No one in the restaurant seemed to notice at all, but the racket went on, quite loudly for several minutes. It reminded me of the infamous “radio happening” conversations between Morton Feldman and John Cage. One of my favorite parts of the conversation is when the two composers discuss the auditory “intrusions” of noise into our world and how they each came to accept and appreciate sounds most people consider mundane at best and unpleasant or grating at worst. In their conversation, the sound of the radio becomes a metaphor for all such noises.

Cage suggests that part of his conversion to the side of “noise” might have come about while composing a piece for 12 radios. Cage says that since he wrote the piece, whenever he hears one or more radios playing, he thinks to himself, “Oh, they’re just playing my piece.”

Feldman, on the other hand, proposes that these things we consider “intrusions” in our sonic world are not intrusions at all, but rather that we are the intrusion on a natural auditory environment.

Mostly, I just find it intriguing that some of the things Cage and Feldman undoubtedly considered “intrusions” in their time go almost completely unnoticed by people today. This could be for a number of reasons, but I suspect it’s partly due to the fact that noise is no longer the provenance of just the avant-garde and is, in fact, ubiquitous in pop culture in music, movies, commercials, etc., something that was predicted by none other than Cage and Feldman and which probably seemed a very silly idea for many years. Let’s take a moment to appreciate that. Close your eyes and listen to the sounds around you. Maybe enjoy a taco while you’re at it.

I had never heard of Alex Chilton when I read about his death last week. I still don’t know the man’s music very well, but I am learning. What I do know is that he wrote that song “The Letter,” which is burned into my memory from the hundreds of times I heard it on classic rock radio on the way to and from school. I also know that Alex Chilton grew up just an hour down the road from where I was riding around listening to his music.

If someone had told me back then that the Box Tops were from Memphis, I would have been surprised. At the time, I listened to a lot of the music of that era (late Beatles, Kinks, early Pink Floyd), but it never seemed connected to my immediate surroundings. Of course, that was part of the appeal. I probably had a mild case of Anglophilia as a kid, wherein I imagined Britain with a music and art-obsessed culture and none of the problems of the American Bible-belt.

However, had I listened harder to my radio, I would have noticed a quality of the Box Tops’ music that wasn’t just another Beatles rip-off, something strikingly original and undeniably “Memphis.” Patterson Hood of the Drive-By Truckers, writing in the wake of Chilton’s death, describes it thusly:

“It combined that pop sensibility that came over with the British Invasion with that southern soul and grittiness…It’s like the Beatles with booty.”

For me, it’s the sound of looking outward for something only to realize you’re already home.

Thinking about this, I realized most of my favorite music has an intuitive, easy soulfulness about it, however obfuscated. Considering I listen to a lot of weird noise music, think of it this way: Soul can act as a structural frame for building an accessible piece of pop music, while the facade can grow and move wildly around the essentially human interior. Tom Waits is THE obvious example. But also, think of the dissonant groove of krautrock bands like Can, or the atmospheric blues of a Talk Talk song. Even Radiohead is pretty damn soulful sometimes (after all, Thom Yorke is a heavy proponent of trip-hoppers Portishead and – guess who – Talk Talk). These are bands that simultaneously challenge the listener with new sounds and comfort them with an age-old sentiment.

Coming up: In my next post, I will share some audio examples of how these thoughts have made their way into my own music.

Hi. I’m Michael. This is a blog. Here you will find little bits of noise and song for your perusal. Please participate as you see fit. If you’re a musician (or not) and you do something fun with a clip or idea you found here, I’d love to hear (about) it.

As you examine the contents of this site, you will notice that posts are divided into three categories. Here are some examples of what you can expect to find, and not find, in each:

Sounds – What you will find: Clips of ambient music and experimental noise collages; Links to music technology that excites me; Music software ideas; Adventures in sound design self-discovery.

– What you will not find: Links to Steve Jobs’s Live Journal.

Songs– What you will find: Fragments of new songs; diagrams of finished songs; lyrics

– What you will not find: Actual, finished songs (Gotta save something for the album!)

Scribbles– What you will find: General thoughts about composing, art, pop, life, etc. Hopefully the main focus will be on the Sounds and Songs. I don’t want this to devolve into a twitter-feed or an outlet for personal drama, lest it become like all those other, non-audio blogs.

— What you will not find: my Live Journal (I hope).

And there you have it. An audio blog! Please check back often as I hope to update fairly regularly.

Thanks, All.

Michael