The 19th of this month (this Saturday) is still good to go for the launching of my new website, ThorGunter.com. I've been really excited about this, and fortunately I've been able to tap into the experience I had from learning how to set up my Arctic Melodies site. I must say, though, that I also have Wix.com to thank (the website design company) because I've been using them so long now that I've become familiar with a lot of their features. I was able to set up an Events Calendar on one of my pages, without anyone's help, and on the calendar you'll be able to click on an event to get the information on showtimes, locations, and entry fee if there is one. I was able to customize the design of the calendar, too - pretty slick stuff! And no, I'm not bragging about the recent developments in my design skills -- but yeah, I did that on my own! (*does a very animated victory dance*).
The recording has been quite an adventure, and I'll be submitting those on Saturday as well; however, the process that's involved in signing up, submitting the work, getting the recordings digitally "cleaned up" (whatever that means) and distributing the downloadable recordings on iTunes takes at least a few days, so they won't be available on iTunes just yet. From what I understand, though, Wix.com has a feature where you can provide downloads of the recordings on your own site, so I'm going to try that and make it so that you can still buy the downloads directly from me.
I feel like a Spanish architect
Originally, any set-backs in the recording process resulted from using equipment that's sub-par. Or maybe the person doing the recording had skills that were "sub-par," I'm not sure which. Recently, though, my recording experiences were a little bit different, and they reminded me of a Spanish architect by the name of Antoni Gaudi (pictured below). Keep in mind that I'm mentioning this person for the purposes of using an analogy, because you know how much I hate using analogies. Anyway, I read somewhere that while Gaudi was designing and supervising the construction of one of his buildings, the construction workers had completed about 95% of the project when Gaudi suddenly ordered them to tear the entire thing down and start over. This was because there was some minor "flaw", like the cobble stones weren't lined up correctly, or some wooden beam was off by a half an inch, or something like that. It was some minor detail that caused Gaudi to take weeks (or maybe months) of strenuous hard labor and throw it out the window, and then ask the workers to start again from scratch. Apparently, Gaudi was notorious for doing this, because he was a perfectionist and such a picky "artist" about his designs, that he always wanted the end-result to be "just right." You can imagine how frustrating this would be for his construction crew.
 |
| Antoni Gaudi |
As of late, this "Gaudi complex" has been looming in my psyche throughout my recording experience. I recently had two experiences like this, although I'm not sure if the first one counts. In the first experience, I had spent hours (and when I say hours, I mean hours, in a span of two or three days, so maybe a total of 16 hours or more) working on a recording. The frustrating thing is that everything seemed perfect, in every way. I could barely sit still because I was so excited about how the recording was going to turn out. I then clicked on some tab that caused the recording program to suspend every track I had recorded, which caused it to be exposed to a glitch, which in turn made it impossible for me to ever access any of the tracks (in other words, the 16 or so hours of work suddenly went poof! and I had to start over). This can be very discouraging, but yes -- after I took about a day to mourn the loss of 16 hours of labor, I started again. And I recorded the whole song. Again.
In the second experience, I had been recording the opening track of the Heart of Storms album (a song I wrote called "Hailstorm at North Lagoon"), which also took hours and hours because the re-recorded version features instrumental tracks that are used for the background (strings and a little bit of percussion). I'm guessing that I put in about the same amount of time on this as the other song. The only problem was that I had immersed myself in the project for too long, which happens to be analogous to that whole "can't see the forest for the trees" thing. The notes were, indeed, played "correctly" and the instrumental tracks were lined up perfectly with the piano melody. So I saved it, made an mp3 file of it, smiled, brushed my teeth and went to bed.
When I listened to the mp3 track the next day, however, I frowned immediately upon hearing it, because there was one very simple problem: It was being played way too fast. For me to notice this, it took an entire night's sleep and a certain amount of time that would allow me to "step back" and listen to it again, because I had been so immersed in it during the recording. Hence, not being able to "see the forest for the trees." Plus I'd had like four cups of coffee before I started recording, so maybe that was part of it. So I did exactly what Gaudi would do; I highlighted every single track in that recording, deleted every single one of them, completely, and started over. Just like that architect who stepped back after hours of intense labor in the construction of some building -- he looked at the big picture and said "Nope, tear it down and do it again."
This is part of why there's a slight delay in the availability of the songs on iTunes, so I'm hoping that my sharing of these experiences helped.
Imperfection brings the tears
Recording "Hailstorm at North Lagoon" on four cups of coffee is a good transition into a topic that I knew I would eventually get into, and it's a topic which is tied to a common phrase that almost everybody hears, especially those who take any kind of music lessons or any musician who performs under the direction of a conductor or some kind of musical director. That cliche phrase, of course, is the "Play it with feeling" phrase. Some musicians might know what this requires, even if they know intuitively. But to some, being told to play a song "with feeling" doesn't help much, because it doesn't tell you anything. I've always assumed that the phrase means to make the piece sound more "emotional," and to accomplish this I have learned to create this effect by implementing several techniques. For example, don't play "Hailstorm at North Lagoon" at a thousand miles an hour when you've had four cups of coffee.
"Hailstorm" is supposed to be fast-paced, complex, and with a lot of energy, but I think that playing it too fast will take away part of the emotion that is put into the song. On the other hand, playing it too slowly will also take that away, because then it will just sound like it's dragging. If people want to learn how to play a piano piece with "feeling", they need to realize that a song will usually show no emotion if it's played "perfectly" according to the sheet music. Even though there are subtle variations that can be added to the sheet music (i.e., dynamic symbols to indicate the loudness/softness), a performer must still add his or her own variations to the piece if it is to sound emotional. And, of course, since I never use analogies, here's an analogy to clarify this concept:
Think of a movie actor. As a matter of fact, this could be any actor, whether it's a Hollywood film actor or a stage actor. At some point, that actor had to read a script in order to play a part in a movie, right? That script shows exactly which words are to be uttered, when they're to be uttered, and at which point in the dialogue of a scene they are to be uttered. And sometimes there are even cues as to how to utter some of the words (i.e., sadly, gleefully, worriedly, etc.).
 |
| A good actor doesn't just read from the script; he shows emotion. |
The sheet music of a song is like the "script" of a movie. If you just play the notes that are on the page, and you don't dramatize it or show any kind of emotion, the song will be boring. The performer of the song is like that actor. As movie-goers we obviously expect actors to be dramatic, lively, animated, and revealing of human emotions (pain, grief, joy, etc.). I think by now this analogy must be clear. What I've found many people curious about, however, is how exactly do you "act" out an emotion when you're playing an instrument? What exactly does it mean to play "with feeling"? I'm so glad you asked! Here's how:
1) Speed up in some parts, and slow down in others, even if the sheet music doesn't tell you to.
2) Slow down and make dramatic pauses in certain parts of the song, even if the sheet music doesn't tell you to.
2) Play loudly in some parts, and softly in other parts, even when the sheet music doesn't tell you to.
3) When the sheet music tells you to play two notes simultaneously (e.g. a bass note and a 3rd interval in the mid-range for the melody), play the two notes slightly separately, with one note occurring a split-second before the other. This adds a tremendous amount of emotion, especially when the bass note is played just before the note in the melody.
4) If you're a composer, avoid the overuse of conventional chords. Major triads, for example, are generally boring. Augmented chords, sevenths, ninths, suspendeds, etc., are good because they add a "spice" and they add flavor to the piece. They also evoke different emotions depending on which chords you use and which order you play them in (see my previous blog, How To Make Your Music More Emotional). Now, and I know this is shocking, but here's an analogy:
Writing a song that is full of conventional, bland chords (like a row of major triads) is like watching a movie that has no conflict, no plot, or no "problem" in the story. Why would you want to watch a movie like that? When we watch a movie, we expect there to be a conflict, right? That's what drives the story and makes the movie exciting. Adding dissonance to a piece, such as a suspended chord or a major seventh in the dominant chord before progressing to the tonic, adds "conflict" to the song; people hear it, and even if they don't know what it is or what to call it, they still hear it and they'll like it.
5) I don't know what the solution is for most other instruments, but a piano has a sustain pedal. Use it! In sheet music, there are symbols to indicate when the sustain pedal should be pressed, but even this (in my opinion) can be used with some variation. You can press the pedal sooner than what it says, or even delay it a tad, or press it only part way in some spots, depending on what effect you want to create.
 |
| Bugs Bunny playing "with feeling" |
6) Keeping all of these technical details in mind, you can usually learn to accomplish all of these techniques by literally re-experiencing the emotions you want to evoke out of your audience. In other words, close your eyes and dwell on the memory of a deceased pet or relative, the heart-wrenching breakup, the grief you felt when your friend moved away, or even from a sad movie that touched you. When you re-experience those emotions, use that to influence the five techniques I listed above.
7) Close your eyes before you perform the piece, and paint a vivid picture in your head of what the song is about (e.g. a sunset, a snowstorm, etc.) While you keep that image in your mind, re-experience whichever emotion you think should be associated with that image (e.g. A sunset = a feeling of contentment, peace, romance, etc. A snowstorm = a feeling of anxiety, fear, awe, struggle, etc.), and as you re-experience those emotions, and as you keep those images in your mind, use that to control the first five techniques I wrote about in this list.
Yes, this works. And, no I don't take bugs bunny seriously. He's just hilarious.
These performance techniques (and there are plenty more, by the way) encompass what musicians call "interpretation". I tell every student of mine that interpretation is just as important as playing the right notes -- if not more. Beethoven said that playing a piece without passion was "inexcusable", and he was right. The correctness of the notes and a good interpretation (just like good acting in a movie) are equally important. In fact, a wrong note will often go unnoticed, actually. But a robotic performance, with no "feeling", will not only be noticed, but it's likely to bore the audience.
So, naturally, I had to delete the recording of "Hailstorm" because the pace wasn't right. If it doesn't convey the right emotion (or any emotion at all) I'm not publishing it. Luckily, it just took a few clicks to fix it, and it will require me to sit on the piano bench for another seven hours or so. But it won't require me to move cinder blocks, or pour concrete in the baking sun. I'm kind of glad I'm not a Spanish architect. Thanks, Antoni Gaudi. You crazy, perfectionist weirdo.
No comments:
Post a Comment