One of my favorite things to do is to take a walk in the park near my house. Battleground Military Park, incidentally a National Park, rests not two miles from our front door.
The paved perimeter of the park is an easy two mile stroll. When I’m training for a race, heading out the door, up to the park, around the park, and back home is 5 miles. If things continue to go as planned, I’ll be running this path quite a bit this summer.
When I walk, I usually have Lord Smithfield with me. Black Labs love to walk. Sometimes we meet a friend or two. Sometimes, as I walk, I listen to some mixes or songs that are in progress. Other times, I walk alone in silence.
The quiet never lasts for long. There a so many things alive in that park—the trees, the birds, other people walking or running. If I stretch out my ears, I can hear as far as Lawndale Dr, about a half a mile away. I hear crickets, deer, conversations, leaves rustling, wind…everything.
The park was once a Revolutionary War battlefield (hence the name). The British over took the Continental Army in a 90 minute fight. Less than 100 casualties were reported per side.
This battle at Guilford Courthouse was a pyrrhic victory for the British. It weakened them so much that they would eventually lose to the Continentals.
In spite of the fact that a battle was fought in this place, it has a lot of positive energy. The park feels like a good place to walk. On the first days of Spring, cars carrying would-be walkers overflow both of the parking lots. People love this place.
Giant statues line the park and environs. We’ve wondered if these giants come to life after dark. If they did, I bet they wouldn’t reenact the fight. Perhaps they would just prance about in the moonlight. Most are on horses.
Yesterday, I had a chance to dig in to the album I’ve been working on since December. The project is mostly a redux of out-takes from The Return of Spring.
If you’re familiar with the history of Spring, you know that it is the third installment in a seasonal triptych that began in 1996 with The Lessons of Autumn. The second part, The Promise of Summer, was released in 2002.
This out-takes album, so far, is comprised of ten tracks that were recorded during the Return of Spring sessions, but for whatever reason were abandoned. Only one track, “Snake Eyes” (which appeared on the last podcast), had been mixed at the time Spring was released.
Three of the songs—“Water & Wine,” “The Great Divide,” and “Out of My Mind”—were tracked on the same day as “Pullman,” “Fallin’ in Love Too Fast,” and “Focus, Part One.”
“Come Alive” is a rock counterpart to “Everything Is New.” ”Sparks” was tracked during the same session as “Alphabet People” and “Snake Eyes.”
When Spring was at the pressing plant in September, I began tracking four songs that were laying around, in contention for Spring, but didn’t make it to the tracking stage. The songs are “Pillar of the Sun,” “Paper Staircase,” “Seminole Train,” and “Walking on Elm St.”
My goal is to have these songs wrapped up by January 31st. As a group, I’d say they are about 70% there. I should be able to make adjustments over the next few days.
The biggest challenge is making the disparate tracking elements mesh in a way that works for the collection. It’s easy to get a song sounding great on its own. In the context of album flow and content, mixing is sometimes like negotiating.
Once this first stage is complete, the collection will have a definitive sound. With that established, I’ll track three additional songs in February and three more in March, wrapping on March 31st.
On these new sessions, I hope to have some fun stretching my limits. The six songs will all come from the Morning Pages demos from 2008. These sessions produced the song “Lost?” that appeared on Malamander.
Over April, I’ll be mastering the project. I’ll take a month to do this because mastering is like that.
When a literary or audio-visual work is worked on after the fact, it is said to be a “redux.”
The “Special Edition” of the original Star Wars trilogy, where TIE Fighters were adjusted, scenes and backgrounds were added, and things outright changed, is a redux.
Redux is not to be confused with “remake.” Lately, there has been an epidemic of 80’s remakes, in which a film’s original premise is used to make an entirely different, usually modern interpretation.
Some remakes are done very well. Ocean’s Eleven, for example, is a clever re-imagining of a Rat Pack classic. Although, most remakes fall short if for no other reason than it’s hard to top a brilliant original idea.
A redux is interesting. Why would a film maker or recording artist want to revisit something that is considered a classic?
Pearl Jam’s Ten was remixed a few years ago. This seemed like dangerous ground for a record that so many revere as one of the best from the early 90’s. The thing about early 90’s albums is that most were mixed like 80’s albums—cavernous reverbs and all. An updated mix totally makes sense.
This week, while on some form of gym equipment, before the sun rises, I’ve been listening to this Ten Redux. While I miss some of the quirkiness of the original mix, I appreciate the clarity and intensity of the new version. Thankfully, in the reissue package, the original mix was included—along with the ever awesome Unplugged set on DVD.
In some ways, every new day is a redux of the one that came before it. We are all works in progress.
One shortcoming from learning to play the guitar in the 80’s has been a deficit in my natural vibrato. In 1988, the whammy bar was alive and well.
A tremolo, bigsby, or whammy bar is a rod that is attached to the bridge of an electric guitar. The bridge is where the strings enter the body of the guitar. They travel across the body, to the neck and frets and finally end up wound to posts on the head stock.
A whammy bar allows the tone of the guitar to fluctuate in pitch. It’s not unlike natural vibrato in that respect. A tasteful player can harness sustain and feeling from bends and movement of the strings with the fret fingers.
The whammy can also be used for extreme tone modulation. The more aggressive one gets with a trem bar, the more likely the guitar is to go out of tune. In the 80’s, it was common to have a locking nut on the head stock. This would secure the guitar’s tuning in place. The tremolo system would then have fine tuning knobs for each of the strings.
A whammy bar produced some interesting tones. The dive bomb, the squeal, and the talker are common extreme iterations. Steve Vai can speak complete sentences with his guitar, whammy bar and wah-wah pedal.
My first real guitar was a Charvel Jazz Fusion Deluxe guitar. The closest thing to it that’s around now is the Charvel Desolation model.
Everyday after school, I’d practice guitar in our garage, usually for hours on end. I drilled Queensryche, Metallica, Tesla, Dokken, and White Lion solos over and over and over again. Metal solos are like architectural plans. They are precise and mathematical.
These guitar parts became a part of me, dwelling in my subconscious. To this day, I have a recurring dream that I’m trying out for Metallica as a fifth member. We perform “Eye of the Beholder” and “Battery.” It’s awesome.
Last night, I had the privilege of playing guitar at the Emmaus Way community in Durham, NC. As I set up my reissue ‘62 strat, I peeked in the case flap. I found its whammy bar sitting there, wanting to be used. I couldn’t resist.
Now, using the trem bar on a ‘62 strat is a delicate matter. A dive bomb on an older instrument like that can cause serious injury, both to the instrument and myself.
Restraint is key. As Uncle Ben told Peter Parker, “with great power comes great responsibility.”
In the 90’s, my playing greatly improved by not using a whammy bar. My natural vibrato has improved over time. It was nice to visit an old friend, though.
On some evenings, just after sunset, I look at the stars. The brightest star in the sky isn’t a star, though. It’s Venus, our sister planet.
With temperatures nearing 900 degrees Fahrenheit, it wouldn’t be a fun place to visit. Venus is nice to look at, though.
Near the late spring, Venus disappears for a while. When she returns a few months later, she appears in the morning.
Around June 5 & 6 of this year (depending on which side of the time line you’re on), we will get to see what is called the “Transit of Venus,” the rare instance in which this bright, tiny planet appears to pass across the sun. It won’t occur again for a little over a hundred years.
These phenomena appear factual. They are rooted in observation, science, data, and reason. Their truth, however, depends upon a human, earth-bound perception.
If, for example, we all lived on the Jupiter moon of Europa, Venus wouldn’t be so bright. Much of our astronomy would be focused on the “big moon” with the “spot.” Our sky would resemble Pandora’s from the 2009 epic film Avatar.
If, when on that planet, we were a sulfur based life form that liked to vacation in 900 degree summers, Venus would seem like a nice place. By comparison, Earth may seem cold and toxic with its average temperature in the 70’s and its watery seas.
Venus would seem to disappear more frequently as it dipped behind Jupiter’s many satellites. Its transit times across the sun would also vary.
Obi-Wan Kenobi once told Luke Skywalker, “Many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.”
Whirring around the nucleus of its atom, an electron is said to have certain properties. Sometimes it behaves like a particle. Sometimes it acts like a wave. Sometimes, it behaves like we do.
The gym has been slightly busier lately. When I get to the cardio room in the morning, I take note that the five or six people, on various machines, are evenly spread out. My natural inclination is to use a machine that best spaces me relative to the other gym goers. It would be uncomfortable, at least for me, to use a machine right next to another person when there are five or six down the row that are unused.
When electrons jump from atom to atom, they fill their orbital paths in a similar manner. Known as the Aufbau Principle, electrons fill lower, stable states before filling higher, unstable conditions.
Is there a significance to this? Probably not. It was just something I thought of while on the elliptical machine.
As I walked to the cool-down mat, I noticed the same phenomenon. I saw two people gathered on one end of the five-part tumble-mat cushion. On the other end, a gym member was finishing her stretching. The crowded mat seemed more comfortable when I occupied the fourth segment, rather than the middle one.
As I left the gym, I was excited about these observations. Walking to my car, I was eager to see if the fifty or so parked vehicles also followed the Aufbau Principle.
No, there is no Aufbau Principle when it comes to parking. The cars were clustered heavily near the gym entrance, somewhat chaotically, if not randomly. I guess that’s a good thing, what with it being so cold in the morning nowadays.
…a film by Cameron Crowe about the band Pearl Jam.
…a common denomination of US currency.
…a type of Rolls Royce.
…the number of faces on an icosahedron.
…the atomic number of Calcium.
…an index for visual health (20/20).
…the number of ounces in a Venti coffee.
…short for one’s location, i.e. “What’s your twenty?”
…the number of sections on a dart board.
…the number of blog entries I’ve completed so far.
It’s been a productive year. I’m 20% of the way through this 100 day journey—a three part challenge of blogging, wellness, and recording.
20 blog entries is substantial. Last year, I posted about every other week = 26 (or so) posts in 2011. Everyday, when 1 pm comes around, I ask myself, “What am I going to write about tomorrow?” I find myself in a higher state of awareness, keeping note of what’s going on around me. Being in the here-and-now is a good way to live.
Making an attempt at wellness has been fun. The cardio workouts last 20 minutes. The hardest part has been getting out of bed so early. Yesterday, for dinner, we had tofu with udon noodles in a green tea broth. Very tasty and very healthful. Although, pressing the water out of tofu is a bit time consuming.
When I go to master the new album, I’ll be choosing from around 20 songs. Most of these are remixed b-sides from the never ending Return of Spring sessions. For every song that appeared on the album, there were two that didn’t. I may be asking for your help in selecting the tracks.
Onward.
This post was published at 9:20 am on January 20, 2012.
I had no intention of walking as much as I did yesterday. I guess sometimes, we walk.
The morning started out just great. 4:30 am wake up, no snooze. Coffee. Navel gazing. Cold drive to the gym. Squats. Hot drive home. Shower. Baton trade-off with Holly for morning Ivy duty. Oats and egg whites for breakfast. Kissed Holly goodbye as she left for work at 6:00 am. Ivy awoke at 6:15 am. Milk for Ivy. Meds. Fresh diaper and clothes for Ivy. Listened to Amnesiac. Drove to daycare. Wished Ivy well on her second day back. Then, it happened.
As I cranked the car, it made the strangest of noises. The “service engine soon” light had been on for a few days. This noise, in conjunction with the warning light, gave me that sinking sensation. You know, that “this is going to be expensive” feeling.
Our Camaro (long story) was drivable, but it sure sounded bad. I wondered if a muskrat had crawled into the motor. Nah. That would have been too easy.
I made it to the service station a few miles away. ”We’ll get it in as soon as we can,” the front desk clerk explained. ”Thank you,” I replied. I turned the keys over, pulled my collar up, and began walking.
A mile-and-a-half is a manageable walk. It’s just long enough for me to consider asking someone for a ride. It’s just short enough to where I don’t mind taking a 25 minute stroll. I opted for the latter.
I enjoyed the sound of cars swishing by. The short section of road without a side walk is a bit tricky. One of Greensboro’s many greenways offered a short cut home.
For the next few hours, I worked on a mix. I wondered to myself, “Is there an easier way to do this?” At that moment, to my surprise, the recording software company had just announced an update that makes everything a lot easier. What are the odds? That’s really weird.
But, not as weird as the call I got next. ”Mike, we ran the codes. Other than a faulty evap sensor, the car appears to be running fine,” the mechanic said. The technician went on to recommend that we warm up the car in the winter, as the sound could have also been related to the new power steering pump we had installed a few months ago. It was a fairly inexpensive day at the shop.
And so, I walked to pick up the car. A slightly less brisk mile-and-a-half. I listened to the three “a-list” mixes for the new album. Things are coming together well.
Right around four o’clock, after the last of the software updates downloaded, Lord Smithfield gave me a look. Our 80-pound black lab has a unique way of telling me that he’d like to go for a walk. I obliged. What’s another mile?
I imagine that herding cats is a difficult profession.
Chaos. Claws. Unorganized fur.
Last week I commented on Edison’s numerous failed attempts at improving the filament in a light bulb. I wonder if, in between fresh ideas, he ever tried a faulty filament in a different bulb.
Perhaps.
With the new record, I’ve been trying a discrete mixing method, which is, essentially, a way to give individual tracks (within a bundled, virtual group) more freedom in mix down. On the first group of songs, it was an abysmal mess.
Although, on yesterday’s mix session, discrete mixing sounded fantastic.
Why? I have no idea. There are subtle differences with the types of microphones used and in how things were recorded. But, empirically, the sources are the same.
The aim of a good mix is to have a balanced, evocative sound. Interestingly, the more scientific and exacting one gets with a mix, the more boring it becomes. Not only is mixing a technical creation, it’s also an artistic one. Perfect mixes sound really, really weird. There needs to be a little rough in the play.
Mix adjustments are quirky. If one element is changed in an intricate balance, ten others are affected. Pulling a low frequency on a drum can make everything sound harsh. Dumping a harsh frequency on a guitar can make everything sound dull. Compressing a mix makes it sound smaller and bigger at the same time. Strange, isn’t it?
