Having received a text from MJ letting me know that things were getting going a little later than expected, Elizabeth and I decided to grab this opportunity and try for a little sight-seeing. Knowing a holistic look at San Diego was going to be impossible, we decided to focus our efforts on La Jolla, an area we knew little about but that had been highly recommended for us to “check out”. And so began the morning ritual of coffee, brisk park walk to breathe in the fresh Pacific air, sunshine to help combat jetlag, and requisite lunch of “even-more-authentic-than-Mexico” Mexican food.

As an aside, only now do I understand why they are called refried beans. Over here, they actually fry them… again! It’s incredible. They sizzle. On the plate. I’m not kidding. Incredible. I said that already. It bears repeating. Also, the chips here have left me spoiled for life. There’s a bite and crunch to them that bears little to no resemblance to anything I’ve had out of a bag, or else as compared to even the more earnest of Mexican restaurants I’ve been to on my home coast, though with this new idea of what I am looking for, I will now search anew. But I digress. We got a text from MJ just short of 1pm, and shuffled south to the JB cave post haste. Avengers Assemble!

Things opened with drum tracking of my track, Seasons Come and Go. Not having had the benefit of MJ’s west coast experience (granted Palo Alto, but I’ve heard it still counts), I immediately adopted what I saw as a helpful posture, finely honed from my teenage years spent in British boarding school and often accepted quite comfortably in the Northeast, of running around trying to organize as many things as possible in as little time as possible. Ever the industrialist. This elicited some rather odd looks from Jesse and crew, though they persevered with the kind of patient bemusement typically reserved for anthropologists towards the tribes they study and vice versa, until finally I realized that even Copper, Jesse’s beagle, was giving me the beady once-over, stopped what I was doing, and asked:

“What can I do?”

Jesse, without batting an eyelid, replied, quite plainly: “Vibe, man. Just vibe.”

I blink, then say the first thing that came into my mind.

“But… I’m from New England.”

There was a collective chuckle, and I realized this might be the ideal time for me to go for that post-lunch walk I had promised myself, take a little scenic video footage (some of which can be seen here at MJ Kuok’s youtube channel), and maybe do some light reading or else calisthenics to keep me occupied and out of trouble.

It was an incredibly productive day of non-stop exploration and trial-and-error. We experimented with a number of different rhythms, from absolute straight 8ths to all manner of syncopations, with Noah at conn, Jesse directing, and the rest of us adding our two cents when it seemed relevant and helpful to do so without interrupting the flow. We eventually found great synergy with two-and-a-half moving parts for the rhythm section: a simple, rock-ballad feel in the verse; which switched to an off-the-backbeat clave idea in the prechorus (which I’m finding I have something of an odd proclivity towards… note to self: ok to love it but try not to overuse). The chorus came back with a similar idea as the verse, but harder and more driving.

It was about 9pm before we realized we were bushwhacked and starving, but there was still quite a to-do list to get through, not to mention the fact that our collective flow was really starting to bloom. Happy at last to be given an opportunity for the full expression of my logistical prowess, I took orders and headed out with Elizabeth to In-and-Out burger, to pick up some old-school battery recharger goodness, “protein” style, as it were, if that’s what floats your boat. However, upon returning I discovered that the best medicine for a weary creative mind, it seems, may not be food so much as Mariokart. Eight rounds of blistering high-speed, left-brain-vacating procrastination… or so you might think. That evening was the most productive night of the entire session; we not only only shot through the entire to-do list but pushed on to put ourselves permanently ahead of schedule. See? Who says video games decrease productivity? Ne’er again I, good Sir, ne’er again I…

Travel safe and talk soon.

And, coming soon, my new website: www.wenewenglandersvibelikethebestofthem.com

Doesn’t seem like we are going to get to see much of San Diego this trip, but the intensive studio vibe that we are all co-creating is sure not only to spark plenty of creative moments, but likely to provide ample opportunities for musical and personal growth as well. I am already feeling nervy about having to record lead vocal tracks while dealing with the effects of plane travel and mild jet lag. But something within has the sense that I, like all of us here, will rally despite whatever challenges there seem to be.

In truth though, I cannot and do not complain. The temperature, humidity, and general environmental conditions are all so naturally perfect it almost seems as though the human race had jumped forward a few centuries to when it might have developed weather control. I am astounded by the beauty of the moon. It seems to loom much larger over this city, though that may simply be a product of being nearer the equator, or else yet another oddity that 2012 is bringing us to keep us on our toes.

Certain fears have surfaced during the course of this work, all coming up for air so that I can face them and work through them. I’ve mentioned the anxiety around lead vocal recording, but also the more general sense that this path that I have chosen—to charge (and stumble!) forward independently, at least for now, rather than immediately push for a record or publishing deal—is somehow empirically the “wrong” one, chosen merely out of stubbornness and gut-intuition, rather than any actual smart-sensed guarantee of success. After all, there is no market proof of a DIY musician really penetrating the world market the way a label affiliate can. And yet, this seems to be the path that is calling me. Again, I suppose, just an opportunity to re-look at choices to see if they are still salient. And for now, this one, as fear-ridden and anxiety provoking as it is, still holds true. Ah well. And so I surrender.

As an aside, I believe some would question my decision to convey the fears I am facing within the context of my blog. My choice to do so really stems from a commitment I made recently to move towards a spirit of transparency with regards to my artistic process. My sense is that it is tempting for the artist, creator, or entertainer to use their image as a creative professional as a way to hide who they really are and what they are really feeling. They can exist in a plane of messianic perfection, where they are the providers of either wisdom or happiness to others, never seen as having problems or even flaws of their own, until of course empire falls, and the resultant period of backlash and innuendo set in.

I have never particularly been a fan of this cycle and have, rather, always wondered: can strength, can inspiration, can value at large, be derived from not only the artist’s cheerful or confident stage veneer, but their inner-workings, their “imperfections”, all the crap and the wounds and the afflictions that make them, well, real human beings, as well? Not as a platform for pity or complaining, but simply as a window into that which makes them, which makes us ALL, human, together on this journey, all scaling the mountain, one step at a time… *whew*

But, once again, I digress. A very productive day. Preproduction on all three tracks: “It’s Not Over/For You/Don’t Give Up” (working title(s)), a driving anthem by MJ, as well as his intimate campfire number “My Dear” (an early version of which you can see us jamming on at my facebook page), and my own rock ballad “Seasons Come and Go”. Some decidedly virtuoso drum work by Danny Morledge. At bat, Noah Bartfield builds the foundation with his eloquent bass work. And just the right combo of brimstone and pop-rocks that is, uniquely, Jesse Barrera, producer extraordinaire. #Stoked for Day Two.

Travel safe and talk soon.

Connectivity:

Full lists of links for personnel in this blog (COMING SOON)

Good morrow friends. Am rather excited about this new song. As those who have been following the fb and twitter feeds will know, I’m heading out west this Spring to work on a new track with producer Jesse Barrera. His packed schedule can only fit one song a piece for me and MJ Kuok (a very talented young songwriter–who just happens to be my cousin–with whom I’m sharing the session), and this track is one of the contenders for my slot.

No, there’s no “reality show”-style competition going on… just a slight bout of March indecision

Would love to hear your feedback, any impressions you have on the material, if it stirs you, in what way… feel free to reach out! You can do so right here, or else via facebook, or even directly to soundcloud if you have an account with them (it’s free and very easy to sign up… a fun, interactive way to participate with music). I’ll be posting demos of the other short-listed songs soon. In addition I’ll be writing up a reflection on this song in a later blog post. For now, enjoy the demo track, and if you like what you hear, spread the word!

Check out lyrics to the song here.

Travel safe and talk soon.

The piece touched me as not only does it speak to my past experience and ongoing journey forward as a musician, but I feel it contains in it, via metaphor, a seed of wisdom on how I, and possibly we all, might approach our lives, as times they change so quickly these days, and the things that once might have given us structure and validation no longer seem quite as relevant. Please enjoy this eloquent (yes, eloquent; it is not a dirty word ) piece that speaks from the heart:

Reversing the Dwindling Spiral of Musical Enjoyment

People take up a musical instrument because they want to experience the joy, pleasure, fun, aesthetic thrill – call it what you like – that can come from making music. Often they do experience it with relative purity at first and even for quite a while afterwards. But for many of us, sooner or later, this positive feeling becomes tainted or diminished – or even disappears entirely. One of the main culprits in this could be called “the tyranny of competence.”

Tell someone that Joe Blow plays guitar or piano, or whatever, and often the first response is “Is he any good?” This is the tyranny of competence at work. Could “Is he having fun with it?” be a more appropriate response?

Playing music can become too much about how good we are (or more accurately, how good we aren’t), not how enjoyable it is. Of course, becoming a better musician is an extremely legitimate and laudable goal to work towards. But in the end, is it not the increased aesthetic pleasure for the player and listener that makes becoming a better musician worthwhile?

The problem is that becoming good enough can become THE reason one is playing music. Then if you don’t think you are progressing fast enough, practicing becomes just another one of life’s unsatisfying chores or even another reason to beat yourself up. This is unfortunate and not at all necessary.

Jazz saxophonist great Ornette Coleman used to like to sit in and play with elementary school bands. He understood that beginners can have a fresh, innocent joy and excitement in music making that more than makes up for their low technical level.

I would encourage you to enjoy the music you are playing now at whatever level you play at. If you took up the instrument yesterday (or just feel like you did!), even that level can be enjoyed. Continue to work to improve, certainly, but be sure to take pleasure from where you are now. Remember that when you do attain the higher level you dream of now, that will then be your present level. From there I guarantee you will see a higher level up the line that you will desire very much to be at.

There is no final “there”, just a series of “here’s” and musical enjoyment is possible at every one of them.

- John Payne, November 2010

John Payne is the founder of the John Payne Music Center in Brookline, Massachusetts. For more information click here. Article reproduced with permission. 

And then there are those projects you really take your time with…

I guiltfully sat down to do a proper mix on this song, remembering full well that I had intended to post it to the blogstream sometime in late 2011… no, wait, 2011? Something about that doesn’t seem right…

Oh, because I had meant to post this song sometime in LATE 2010! Erk!

And this rediscovery only when I opened the ProTools file, and saw that it read “Be Right Here DEMO 2010-10-23”. Very embarrassing, though props from me to me for having an organized labeling system

In any case, here it is. I opted for a more raw approach than I was going for originally, which I feel allows Val’s natural expressivity to shine through more clearly (So, you see, it was good that I waited so long *snigger*)… more on this below.

About the song 

Be Right Here, aka Be Right Here (Mikey and Lacey) (lyrics can be found here) is a song from Open Mic, a musical story that I am in the process of developing. Currently the song appears towards the end of the story, and is sung by the character Michelle Grant, one of five singer-songwriters vying for top-dog spot at an open mic competition, the events surrounding which form the basis of the story’s plot.

The song is an act of contrition by Michelle, who has come to the realization that she has spent much of the story, and, as we find out, her life, treating others poorly; attaching to people only so as to use them, manipulating them emotionally to get what she wants and then throwing them away when she has no further need of them.

She has done this time and again to her hapless friend Bob, who is referred to in the song as “Lacey”, where she herself is “Mikey”—incidentally, the intentional gender fake-out speaks to the way the two view one another within the context of their relationship. The song begins as a diegetic performance, but transitions into direct address, sung to Bob, with whom she shares this epiphany, acknowledging the sadness of her state while knowing that, in the long run, it is unlikely that she can ever change. So, not an upper per se.

No doubt things will be tweaked as development continues. The part of the song most in question for me is the instrumental bridge between V1 and V2. I originally envisioned a longer transition, perhaps involving dialogue, in order to somehow take us from the performance venue into some sort of private space between Michelle and Bob. No idea how to do it yet, or whether it will even work narratively! In the meantime, we apologize for the inconvenience, and thank you for your understanding – The Management

About the track

Singing the part of Michelle on this track is the very talented Valerie Larsen, to whose work I was introduced at a reading of Chris Guin’s original musical Tell Me a Beautiful Lie. After watching her performance I knew I wanted to work with her in some fashion, though at the time this song wasn’t even written. We met to discuss developing some soprano-range material that I was working on, and at first settled on the song Still Walking (see earlier blog post: Ten Years and Still Walking), but after a session it was clear to me that the song itself wasn’t ready for a second demo (the bridge needs a major rewrite).

But, as luck or else sheer dogged persistence would have it, I somehow started and finished Be Right Here in between two of our sessions, and when we put together song and singer the pairing really worked. What I appreciate most about Val’s intepretation of this song is her ability to convey the conflict between Michelle’s new desire to be open and vulnerable and her older, programmed m.o., predicated on a stubborn refusal to ever show any vulnerability. I feel this comes through most clearly in the third verse where Val so deftly toes this line, giving us the clarity we need (yes, she’s scared) but leaving us enough wiggle room to wonder if the character is still somehow posturing, somehow manipulating us. An emotionally satisfying performance that doesn’t explode into emoting. Sweet stuff.

To that end, Val, thank you for your patience (she recorded this in October 2010). I am most grateful for this beautiful rendition by a rising young artist. Hopefully my meager mixing abilities do her performance justice!

Enjoy the song, and feel free to post any feedback or thoughts on either soundcloud or facebook!

Travel safe and talk soon.

For more on Valerie Larsen, click here.

For more on Open Mic, click here.