2/20/13 Weight not Volume
There are musicians who transcend–their instrument, their musical genre, the way they talk about music. Flamenco maestro Paco Pena, featured performer for CU’s First International Guitar Festival this past weekend (bravo, Nicolo Spera for hosting what I hope becomes an annual celebration of the guitar) falls into that category. I think if a trombone player played for him in a masterclass he would come away with some valuable insight to a new level of musicality.
Sr. Pena’s masterclass was, well, masterful. He spoke eloquently about commitment. Because it was Valentine’s Day? Perhaps. Or maybe because a young player who ultimately grew two sizes due to his time with the Maestro played a line entirely correctly, and with absolutely no commitment. Every note was right. Just. The young student knew the roadmap but missed the journey. Sr.Pena’s message: sometimes a totally committed path is better than one without mis-steps.
Another student, playing Rodgrigo’s Junto al Generalife (quite well, I might add) got the gift of a great lesson from the Maestro in the difference between Weight and Volume–not how one buys corn flakes, but how one executes a rest-stroke with thumb. My apologies to the non-guitarists here–just nod knowingly as I talk about this rather parochial issue. Classical guitarists are taught to use their thumb rest-stroke to provide power to a melodic line, usually in the bass. Sr. Pena demonstrated that while volume is important (he delivers plenty) weight is often more important, and more challenging to execute. Because a musical line needs weight, even when it’s quiet. And when the piece calls for the player to flex some muscle, well, a Flamenco player uses the big ones, delivering that stroke with the whole arm, not just the thumb. It’s powerful. It’s weighty. Even when it’s quiet.
Weight. It’s about importance, it’s about emphasis. It’s about Value. John McPhee wrote about this in “Giving Good Weight”, relating his experiences one summer at a Brooklyn farmer’s market. Giving good weight means throwing an extra tomato onto the scales but not adding to the price. It’s a gift, a bonus; it’s asking the customer to come back again for more. When a player can play all along the volume spectrum, from the quietest whispering pianissimo to the most pronounced sforzando, all with weight, it’s a gift that resonates beyond the last encore. Maestro Pena’s visit to Boulder was such a gift. I hope those students treasure it as such.
© 2013 Falling Mountain Music
1/19/13
Because of all the publicity around the Lance-pology my segment with Oprah was bumped. Here it is, in its entirety. Warning: geeky studio humor lies ahead.
“Did you cheat?”
“Yes.”
“Auto-tune?”
“Yes”.
“Beat-align? Quantizing? Reverb?
“Yes. Yes. Yes(s)(s)(s)(s)…”
“But it’s more complicated than that, Oprah. I looked up cheating in the dictionary. The first definition mumbled something about dishonesty, but right there, in definition number 17, it stated “gaining an unfair advantage”. That resonated with me like a 2.5 second reverb tail. If everybody is looking at the engineer after a zillion bad takes and saying ‘you can fix it, right?’…I’m just leveling the playing field. In fact, I also admit to using master leveling to level the playing field…”
“At this phase of the business–and yes I used phase shifting–it’s not easy to succeed when everyone is using performance-enhancing techniques. PET’s are the norm in recording, the great equalizer–yep, that one too–how else can we get everything to sound the same so that the listener isn’t distracted by the occasional sibilance–yes, I admit to de-essing with aplomb.
“Put yourself in my slippers for a minute, Oprah. The guitarist comes in to put down his tracks. His idea of playing in tune is reading his little clip-on Snark and muttering “close enough”. He seems to not have gotten the memo that the track was supposed to be for 12-string. At that moment I’m not having a huge philosophical debate on whether to chorus or not to chorus. I do what I need to do. For art.”
“It’s not like this is all new to music, Oprah. Before there was “Cathedral” there were, well, cathedrals. And echo…I remember my first experience, back in the 70′s, with Echo-plex. A lot of great Rock-Steady tracks would have never seen the light of day without it–I mean, once you go slack you can’t go back…but those machines are huge, loosy-goosy analog tape is messy…now I insert a plug in and I’m in Dub City.”
“And the thing is, Oprah, I know I’m a fallible human being. Mis-takes were made. But in this day and age of YouTube I have to live with this. For the rest of my life.”
© 2013 Falling Mountain Music
1/3/13
Eugenia Evans was a remarkable human being. She died on Christmas Day; she was 103.
I didn’t know Ginny for the first 70-or-so years of her life. I met her when she was a piano teacher at Shenandoah Conservatory. Her one failure in life was quite possibly her inability to turn me into a competent pianist during my graduate studies. I never held it against her; more importantly, she never held it against me–we became fast friends. Maybe it wasn’t a complete failure–while I am a dreadful pianist she perhaps inadvertantly showed me how to approach the guitar pianistically.
I remember helping her with a video project on piano instruction–she was an “old-school” Leschetizky-style teacher, a tradition that had fallen out of favor with some more modern instructors. This puzzled me, since she was one of the most innately musical people I’ve ever known. I had no idea that a piano could elicit the breadth of tone she could coax out of it, as opposed to just soft-and-loud–its original name is, after all, the “piano-forte” (Italian for soft-loud), not “piano-forte-brilliante-dolce-expressivo…Eugenia-esque”. But helping her edit this video was eye–and ear–opening. She was, in a word, brilliant.
I had become used to her touching my arm while making an edit–I’d never consider such a gesture an interruption from Ginny, since it usually preceded a great story of her youth in Odessa, her pre-war escape from Prague, or her early career as a concert pianist (she was the first nationally recognized recording artist on Shenandoah’s faculty; I believe I and Oxymora might have been the third). Her stories were always multi-leveled lessons that I reference to this day.
Ginny forgot to grow old. One day during editing, she touched my arm and said out-of-the blue (literally, it would turn out) in her still heavy accent: “Michael, I have gentleman friend in North Carolina, he would like me to come visit him. He has his own plane. He wants to fly up here to take me to NC. I’ve never been on small plane. What should I do? I want to see this gentleman…” Before I could answer, she shrugged and flashed her Ginny-smile and answered her own dilemma: “Michael, I’m 87 years old, and a gentleman wants me to visit…what do I care if plane crashes?”
Thanks for the long years of friendship, music and life-lessons, Eugenia.
© 2013 Falling Mountain Music
http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/gastongazette/obituary.aspx?pid=161971985#fbLoggedOut
12/15/12
Over the last 24 hours the horrific events in Newtown have compelled people to post things here that have touched me, shocked me, engaged me, and even enraged me. while I usually have no trouble putting into words my feelings in any given moment, I just haven’t found them yet.
I heard yesterday’s news just as I was shutting down the computer before heading out the door for an afternoon show in fr…ont of 300 elementary school kids in Elizabeth CO. While I got no indication that any of them knew what had happened in CT I can say that it was one of the most profound performances for me. I guess I’m still feeling the need to meditate on it before I have anything more to offer. In the meantime, I would suggest that one of the most healing and cathartic things I can imagine is spending a FaceBook-free day with whatever children or other loved ones you might have in your life. With all the talk about the 2nd amendment, putting god back into schools, taking pharmaceuticals out of our children, violence on TV/movies/media…maybe re-engaging in a direct way with each other might be the best next thing toward healing, instead of bumpersticker-esque one-way rants on FB (I hate bumperstickers–they don’t listen).
To the 300 kids I met yesterday–I love you all, and not just because you gave it up so warmly for my free-styling on dinosaurs. Thanks for helping me through a most difficult day.
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
12/14/12
Wow. Maybe I’m collectible. Or a relic. I don’t know but it was brought to my attention that Amazon has my Holiday CD from 1995 for…wait for it….39.95. No really…wait for it…;-)…So, if you’d like this rare (ha) out-of-print (not s…o!) collectible (??), you can go to Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dpopular&field-keywords=michael+delalla+there+is+one+story+and+one+story+only and pay 39.95 (or just read it for your own amusement) or go to www.fallingmountain.com and pay considerably less, CD or digital download. May your holiday be filled with music.
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
12/11/12 Michael’s Blog: This is Why.
Lucky for me, when I have the bird’s eye view I wake up every morning loving all of the musical activities that I endeavor to do. From the day-to-day POV, just like any other job, some days are better than othe…rs. In the end we all hope to keep both perspectives in perspective, we all hope to have days that make us smile and say “This is why I do this”.
Some time ago–15 years? 20 years?–I’m teaching a guitar workshop in Greensboro NC with dear friend Kami Rowan, with whom I would log a lot of guitar workshops in VA and NC. To open the workshop we play a little performance. As usual, the players are watching our fingers perhaps more than using ears and brains to try to process what we are doing. Except one 14 year old–he gets it. He gets it on a guitaristic level, a compositional level and an innately musical level. Afterwards, as he stood there excitedly telling me what he heard and how it all worked, I smile to myself and think “This is why I perform”.
Later in the week, the same kid brings me some of his compositions–some guitar solo pieces, a duet and a fully realized string quartet. He plays through one of the solo pieces; I marvel at the maturity of both his tone/technique as a player and his voice as a composer. He starts telling me how the quartet works, composer to composer. It’s good. Young, but well put together. Like this guitarist. I smile to myself and think “This is why I teach”.
Years later this same young guitarist/composer moves to Boulder CO for graduate studies after high school at The North Carolina School of the Arts and undergrad work at Guilford College, studying guitar with Kami.
I lose track of him except occasional updates from Kami. A few years ago I find myself moving to Boulder; I get to have exactly one cup of coffee with him because he is in the process of moving back east. But it was good to catch up. He had written much more music; in fact, that next summer I would conduct one of his ensemble pieces in a summer workshop. I love it when the circle happens that way, another “This is why…” moment.
Now, Mark Charles Smith has an opportunity to realize his rich body of guitar works, solo and ensemble, in a way they should be–as the program of a CD. As a guitarist, composer, teacher and producer I know it is important for projects like this to happen. We live in a time when we need occasional reminders of why it’s important to support and sustain the creative process. Mark will be recording his solo and ensemble guitar works, joined by guitarists Kami Rowan, Carey Harwood, and Laura Boswell on the chamber works; all important players and teachers in his musical growth. After the tracks are recorded in NC I will help in the production process, mixing and mastering them. I’m honored–it completes the circle. Projects like this make me think “This is why I produce”.
For this project to succeed it needs your help through Kickstarter. Even a small contribution helps get him there. Visit the site, watch the video of Mark explaining the project. If you need to ask why this recording is important, it will give you the answer. This is Why.
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/16667467/mark-charles-smith-debut-cd
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
12/10/12
Nobody catches the essence of brilliance like Wim Wenders, one of my favorite documentarians. His film on the late German choreographer Pina Bausch “Pina–Dance Dance Otherwise We Are Lost” is simply beautiful. Her Rite of Spring is my new second-favorite (nod to Nijinsky’s original choreography), performed on a stage covered in soil…powerful.
The saying goes “Talking about music is like dancing about architecture”. But I could easily talk about music in reference to Pina’s choreography. She sings like I want to dance.
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
12/6/12
All great musicians have their own voice. Sometimes that voice changes, as an adolescent’s voice takes on timbres borne of maturity. I would have thought I would recognize saxophonist Paul Winter’s voice anywhere, any context. Then I got to…hear the 50th anniversary release of him with his sextet from 1962-63, sent to EC, who will be interviewing him next week. What a wonderful collection, drawn from his work right out of Northwestern University, when he was recommended by Dizzie Gillespie and John Hammond to become a “jazz ambassador”; the State Department subsequently sent him on tour throughout Latin America. Strands of cool, bossa, even a bit of bop played with such joy as to be infectious. I’d love to be in on that interview–he was a pretty big influence on the voice I would develop. I’d love to tell him the story about hearing him with the Paul Winter Consort in Washington DC in the ’80′s, at Carter-Barron Amphitheatre, elephant-trumpeting distance from the zoo–this I know because of the elephant who joined in during what was intended to be an unaccompanied soprano sax solo. Thanks for 50 years of great music, Paul; here’s hoping for much, much more. Listen for yourself: www.paulwinter.com/sextet
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
12/5/12
Three more shows added yesterday, in far-flung places–nice. Playing Friday evening right down the street at the Niwot Inn for First Friday Art Walk–even nicer. The halls will be decked, the fireplace will be lit. And I’ll have a table full of CD titles for you to peruse for stuffing that stray Christmas stocking. Music, wine and cheese starts at 6:00.
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
12/3/12
Your tuition dollars are at work in very good ways. At FRCC, the students and faculty were treated to a “stress free zone” for exam week: a table full of veggie trays, juices, cheese, crackers, laid out in the main hallway. Inside the community room: a table for coloring (!), a ping-pong table (the sound of the knip-knop was therapeutic by itself)–and a massage therapist. The only stressed student I saw is the one I schooled in a best of 3 ping-pong match. Great job, Front Range. Good luck, students. Taking all ping-pong challengers on Wednesday, 11:30 AM.
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
10/7/12
“Don’t let me interrupt your gymnastics. I just wanted to see if your Green Room was greener than mine.”
“It’s a sun salutation–yoga”. Come on in. Nice to meet you. Have a banana from the fruit plate”.
“Thanks, they gave me a fruit plate t…oo…nice folks here…you’re in the other theater, right?”
So began one of my more memorable pre-concert conversations last nigth at Swallow Hill, a 20 minute riffing ramble with a straw-brimmed hat, sunglasses, moustache, and a voice of velvet gravel, touching on a million subjects and possibilities, ending with his saying:
“OK, showtime…when you’re done I have a new job for you: president. It’s time for some anarchy”.
I don’t know about the Anarchy. But it was a pleasure meeting you, Leon Redbone. Safe travels.
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
7/21/12 Tour Blog: The Meaning of Main Street?
Westward on Interstate 64 from the Kentucky/Indiana border into southern Illinois is a stretch of highway with a dearth of exits and the hotels that accompany them. After consulting my new best friend, bookings.com, my best shot at landing a hotel for the night was a place called Mt. Vernon IL.
If you place a mirror under the nose of Mt. Vernon, a little condensation will appear, but its pulse is faint. The town’s not dead but it may be in a deep coma. Other vital signs were telling: judging from the number of boarded up buildings your stock in Home Depot is probably safe.The businesses that weren’t boarded up tended to be pawn shops and those places that trumpet “Instant Loan for Your Car Title!” One even had a drive-up window. I didn’t notice if it also had a walk-away lane.
These aren’t healthy signs for a town, when the only businesses that are thriving are those designed to take what little you have left so you can meet the ever-increasing bill load. I thought about the last time I came through, how in my blog that year I wrote with some vehemence about how Illinois had cut state funding for Arts Councils to zero. It’s been enlightening, even humbling, to see more of the equation. Plain and simple: there are parts of this country that are hurting badly, but the gaps between social strata have grown to such a degree that many of us miss that hurt until we get off the interstate and walk around a bit. In a culture where some have two, three and even four-door garages, It’s hard to notice someone giving up title to their car.
Back on the road, heading ever westward. I approach gleaming St. Louis, with its casinos and new buildings along the waterfront. Once again, the ever dependable Catherine showed me a valuable view. (Sidebar: she’s my GPS, and it’s pronounced Cat-er-EEN, as she speaks her directions in French to me.) As she has done with eerie regularity when I need a reality check, Catherine took me on a detour that was frought with insight–I swear there is a wise woman-spirit in that little screen, my very own Cosmic Messenger. Behind the tinsel of the waterfront were shells of buildings–they literally looked bombed out, windows looking like the empty eye sockets of a skull. Amidst all this decimation were graffiti tags, all by an ambitious Banksy-wannabe named RatFag. I don’t know RatFag’s rodent status or his sexual preferences; what I do know is that he possesses Spiderman-like agility. Like Banksy, RatFag saves his tags for the most precarious locations–he seems to live for the “how did he do that?” reaction. At least, I hope he lives–some of those locations are accompanied by a long way down. While some see such tagging as vandalism with a touch of despair, I see it as something approaching art, with a dash of defiance. A spirit as strong as RatFag’s actually gives me hope. Tag on, RF.
Finally, Nebraska. I’ve avoided tolls this entire tour (merci, Catherine); today, I cheerfully shelled out all of 1.25 where US 34 crosses the Mo into Nebraska via a two-lane 15 mph bridge. At the other side, an old-fashioned toll booth with an elderly woman taking cash–no cards, no transponders. Then I had another Main Street moment: just beyond the tollbooth, a sign that bespoke at least one opinion of the 6559 residents of Plattsmouth as to its status as a Main St. Community (see accompanying picture). 
If you’re looking for some blog-gem from me that ties all this up with some neat conclusion, I’m afraid I’ve wasted your time. I don’t know what to make of all this, but I do feel all things are connected. We (well, some) still call ourselves the greatest country on earth, yet the social disparities are there, staring back at us through empty window eyesockets and spraypainted eyeshadow. I don’t know if the equation reduces to the 99% vs. 1% soundbite so prevalent of late, but there is a serious hurt-quotient going on–I’ve seen it. Can we translate pride into action? What action?
Thoughts? The nice thing about a blog is that you the reader can help write its conclusion. Or at least we have a discussion that acknowledges the problem.
Next stop: home.
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
7/13/12 Tour Blog: Connections
I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting the tour blog for the last week. I’ve been making Connections.
Not the kind that you make with “a clever tie and a firm handshake” (thank you, Pink Floyd), where there is a business objective to be met, though I have managed to secure a couple of dates in July 2013–I guess my handshake is firm enough. Those kinds of connections aim to run wide. This week, my connections ran deep.
My connection with the VA Governor’s School PAVAN workshop runs deep–24 years deep. This is a fabulous crop of young guitarists, thirsty for
every drop of knowledge (and, I admit, the occasional humorous shovelful of manure to keep them growing honestly). We’ve got a week to go, but the harvest is looking promising.
I’m staying with teaching partner and guitar brother Keith Filppu at his home in Virginia, where the harvest is already coming in: Keith is a first rate gardener. Every evening we go grocery shopping in his backyard: peppers in Aisle 4. Tomatoes in Aisle 3. And sow on.
Sometimes the connections are literal: when a dear friend with deep roots and reaching branches of her own works her massage magic on a troublesome shoulder after Wednesday’s show. Thank you, Ginny–connecting with you, and disconnecting with my shoulder pain is a double blessing.
Sometimes the connections are multiple: two other dear friends came out for the same show; they met while connecting with me in a previous workshop. Now they are forging their own deep connection with each other.
Musical connections are often deep and wide, encompassing many root networks. At last night’s show in Clear Spring MD, guitarist Candice Mowbray joined me for a couple of pieces. Candice is one of the most beautiful players I know–her exquisite tone makes me reach higher. If I could play with Candice every night my branches would touch the stars.
Finally, the best connections are spiritual ones, because they touch, or should, every other thing. During the workshop yesterday, Keith and I had a special guest who guided the guitarists through a Yoga session. AJ Ikner is brilliant, with roots in many soils–she shared not only how to wrangle this beast of an instrument that we play without winding up in braces, slings and splints, but how to connect with inner roots and branches to deal with performance anxiety issues. Amazing is in Aisle 6: when a roomful of self-conscious teenagers chattering away through the beginning of her session like the worst case of Monkey Mind (Yogis know what I mean by this) gave way to AJ’s guidance with a quiet that was deafening.
More connections await tomorrow: I have a concert with two people with whom I share three decades of music making (and centuries of connections, if we are to believe a certain mystic who told us as much some years ago). My Celtic trio The Unfortunate Rakes re-connect Sunday in Romney WV. Come join us, connect with us.
Connections between the soil and my fork, my fork and my music, my music and my soul. Us. Hope to see you soon.
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
6/28/12 Tour Blog: Main Street
Several venues on this tour have a Main Steet address. Since I tend to focus on small towns and muncipalities, no big surprise there. But I think it’s notable.
I think a lot about what Main Street means, since I travel so many of them. I travel the ones in Nebraska and Missouri, where local arts councils keep the arts alive in places like Beatrice and Hannibal, and I travel the ones in… Kansas and Illinois, where state funding for arts councils has been eliminated.
I am also pleased to note that many of the shows on this tour are free admission. A few others are up to you: pay what you think the music is worth. When making that decision, I hope you think about what music, dance, and art is worth in your life, what your life would be without them. Don’t think about what Michael DeLalla’s music is worth; it’s bigger than me. Though I did hear a good one recently, from a musician quoting yet another musician who was asked by a fan if she could get a CD “at cost”: “I’d love to sell you a CD at cost. When I add it all up they cost about 65.00 per CD…”
I’m also thinking about Main Streets in Boulder, Ft. Collins, and Colorado Springs as the denizens of those places, my friends and neighbors, hope Main Street doesn’t go up in flames. I think about Main Streets in Syria, Egypt, Paraguay. All heartache is local heartache. So I dedicate this tour to Main Streets worldwide
Today’s selection from “This Is How I Disappear is “Variations on Sakura”. My take on this venerable Japanese folk song attempts to paint a scenario that has been a fantasy of mine for some time: I travel to Japan, meet up with some wizened koto and shamisen players; the three of us have a moment of sharing that transcends musical hemispheres. With some extended technique I try to evoke each of our three instruments throughout the piece. Enjoy. http://www.reverbnation.com/
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
6/27/12: 13 Strings and a Million Possibilities
Today’s sample from “This Is How I Disappear” celebrates the berimbau of Brazil with a piece written with friend and stellar percussionist N. Scott Robinson, playing the berimbau, an instrument with roots in Africa. When the Portuguese brought over slaves from Angola they were not allowed to bring instruments; however, they fashioned the berimbau after instruments remembered, and left behind, in t…he homeland. It has one string and a million possibilities. I have altered the tuning of the 12-string, as I imagined what an Angolan slave might have done with a coursed-string left behind by a Portuguese slave owner after the slave revolt that resulted in freedom. Enjoy “13 Strings”. http://www.reverbnation.com/
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
6/24/12 Tour Blog: Giants Among Us
Bryan Bowers is a giant. Both literally and musically. He’s a big man who requires looking up to, on a lot of levels. If I were choosing up sides for pickup hoops for, say, the Falling Mountain Roundball Classic, I’d pick him first, to fill the paint and deny the baseline. Given the Boston Celtics jacket that he had hanging in the room we shared for the autoharp gathering, he knows what I would expect of him. Next picks might be pre-ACL Andrew McKnight at shooting guard, with whom I’m looking forward to spending some quality stage time this fall in Colorado; or perhaps fiddler Bruce Wilkin at forward, as I’ll be doing a show with him later this tour. But I have digressed–I want to talk about giants.
Bryan’s voice booms, like a country preacher in an old wooden church; when I return to the producing desk next month I will name a reverb setting after his voice. Even his whisper resonates; he tried to talk quietly while attempting an early morning departure to catch a plane out of Harrisburg. It’s a stage whisper worthy of Robert Prosky in his theatrical prime.
When he talks to you he calls you “my brother” or “my sister”, but don’t take it personally. He talks to everybody like that, as he feels deeply and truly the inherent connections among all of us.
Bryan is also a musical giant. He may well be responsible for all the virtuosity I’ve seen on display this weekend as he is recognized as the instrument’s standard-bearer, that individual found in every pursuit, professional or recreational, who endeavors to bring a new generation into the fold. He embodies my single qualification of virtuosity: he transcends the instrument. He shows the next generation of players that dazzling chops, the technical facility and command of an instrument’s possibilities, is a means, not an end. When a player transcends the instrument he or she gets my attention, whether it’s a white-maned giant who scrapes the ceiling like Bryan, or a quiet 5’4″ woman who lets her music do her talking like Heidi Cerrigione, this year’s champion in the autoharp competition. She’s a worthy winner–she transcends the instrument.
As for my pick-up team, I guess I’m good at this–I picked the five finalists of the competition, then picked how they would place in the correct order. Maybe I should be spending off-days at the off-track…
Wonderful concert last night with Bonnie, another who transcends, another giant, perhaps 5’6″. Our last show together for a while as this tour continues for me solo for the next couple of weeks. We’ll meet up again in Colorado later this summer. Now it’s off to Virginia.
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
6/24/12 Part 2
One of the seminal events in my process of “disappearing” and “reappearing” was landing in Colorado among such a vibrant community of musicians. I share this next piece with Dexter Payne on clarinet, Anthony Salvo on violin and Raoul Rossiter on drums and percussion, along with old east-coast friend and brother bassist Jim Baird.
“Camera Obscura” celebrates two vital streams that inform my music:… my classical background and my love of jazz. In terms of form, this piece celebrates my classical background, with themes introduced, combined, and developed; the players take it to a whole other place with their improvisations–jazz may well be America’s most significant contribution to the worlds of music this CD celebrates. Enjoy. http://www.reverbnation.com/
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
6/23/12 Tour Blog: From the Laurel Highlands Autoharp Gathering
Mrs. Davis had blue hair. Not really blue, but a bluish cast that many women had of that era who were “of a certain age”, due to bad coloring jobs. And it was big hair, as if it had been piled onto her head with a frosting knife. She spoke in the same falsetto–wobbly is the word that comes to mind–with which she sang for her classes at Fort Foote Elementary School. Except when she was pissed–then she could offer up a growled baritone “GET QUIET” that would wake up road kill. She was also my first exposure to the autoharp.
You know the autoharp: It’s shaped like the state of Georgia, lots of strings and bars. The way Mrs. Davis played it: strummed, three chords not quite in tune. It’s amazing I had any love for music after Mrs. Davis.
So suffice it to say that it was years before I had any appreciation for the autoharp. This weekend I have nothing but appreciation for it–I’m playing a concert tonight at an autoharp gathering in Pennsylvania with past Winfield champion Bonnie Phipps, who makes the thing sing in counterpoint and doesn’t have blue hair. I arived last night in time for the competition–it reminded me that virtuosity happens on every instrument. Virtuosity deserves its own blog; more later. But I will say that it’s been a joy to be around so much joy centered around a single instrument, with some truly world class players. I’m looking forward to tonight’s concert. If you’re within striking distance of Newport PA (see the falling mountain website) come visit.
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
6/22/12 Tour Blog: What’s On My iPod?
I don’t listen to much music when I’m in the final throes of production. I can’t listen without critically evaluating; it’s like doing a chromatic analysis of a Monet instead of just enjoying the moment of beauty.That means I don’t have a lot of good music with me when I travel, especially since, despite possessing a few musical skills, programming isn’t one of them. Luckily I have some…one who excels at putting together a good music program. Props to my sweetie Elaine for loading me up with so much great music on the stick that plugs in so handily in the new car. The random function gives me such a mix that I think I’m listening to one of her shows. Thanks! And speaking of the listening here’s another piece from “This Is How I Disappear”, a nod to all the great Irish music sessions I’ve been to nationwide: The Seisiun Set. Enjoy. http://www.reverbnation.com/
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
6/21/12 Tour Blog: It Begins
It begins. Touring has changed so much in recent years. Woke up in Iowa underneath a canopy of wind turbines. Nice–there’s hope. I stayed up late because a film-maker wants to use some of my music (documentary on Argentine/Peruvian sheep-herders in CO); I was able to accommodate because I had sound files ready for him on the laptop I travel with. Nice–there’s hope.
© 2012 Falling Mountain Music
Recording Beyond Time Zones
Throughout history, technology has helped advance music. At the Neolithic moment when an Ur-man or woman first struck a rock with a stick, music left the realm of the uttered and became something produced by an external agent—an instrument. Hollow tubes were first given holes, then eventually gained complex keys and valves. In the 1700’s luthiery reached heights of artistry as Stradivarius and Amati experimented with new finishes and woods, producing violins that expanded the tonal range, spurring composers to score works in new ways with an expanded palette of tonal colors.
In the late 1800’s, a performance could be fixed in permanence—almost. Wax cylinders weren’t impervious to the stress of time, but we have enough that survived to understand a bit about performance practices of the likes of Mahler, Caruso, Native American pow-wow music, even Mark Twain. Vinyl records also promised durability and delivered—almost. Multi-track recording technology provided unprecedented control over the interaction of instruments, leading to a new kind of creativity—that found in the studio. CDs promised a pristine digital medium that was not only impervious to degradation—almost—but allowed for exact duplication, which also led to piracy, and changed an industry forever.
Today, those of us who produce music have a whole new array of tools that have expanded our creative potential even further. As I write this, I am currently involved in five recording projects that couldn’t have happened not so long ago: new CDs by Oxymora, Planina, Bosnian songstress Azra Selak, new material by The Unfortunate Rakes, and a soon-to-be completed solo guitar project with some far-flung guest artists. Let’s look at the Oxymora project for some insights to the process.
Oxymora, the improvisational chamber ensemble I co-founded with oboist Craig Matovich almost thirty years ago, is currently working on a recording where all the participants are recording their tracks in the comfort and convenience of their own studios, scattered around the country. First, we’ve all taken care to make sure our equipment is compatable and production standards are in agreement. Next, we’ve established a creative process not unlike that which we would use in the studio if we were all in the same place, where we begin by trading preliminary “scratch” tracks which we load into our respective recording programs. We then each take the time needed to develop our individual contributions to the piece, trading tracks back to the others at every step. If needed, any of us can revisit how our contribution fits, try new things, find new connections within the music. An end to live performance and recording? Hardly. The process has kept a group of musicians artistically engaged with each other who might otherwise have to settle for the occasional reunion concert.
For an example of the process, check out the Christmas video spearheaded by Craig, from an arrangement of “Angels We Have Heard On High” by another Oxymora alumnus, Wayne Dooley. The piece features Craig (CO) on piano and oboe, Jim Baird (NC) on bass, with Wayne (FL) providing the original keyboard tracks. No frequent flier miles were used in the making of this video!
Look for more stories from the virtual road in future blogs. Till then, thanks for reading, and thanks for listening.
