Posts Tagged ‘art’

worldview changing

I came across this short article on HuffPost last night: Finneas Reveals Hidden Sounds In ‘Bad Guy’ And Our Worldview Is Changed and I could not resist writing a response.

The gist of the article is that Billie Eillish’s brother, Finneas, who produced her Grammy award winning album, revealed he subtly incorporated sound recordings of every day occurrences/items into the music. Examples given in the article include the sound of dental equipment and a crosswalk warning signal.

My first thought was – what has journalism come to? This is an article summarizing a TV interview that’s been given a sensationalized headline (Worldview changing?!?! Really?!?) just to entice people to click on it. (And I did!) But then the author declared Finneas’ method of using these every day recordings as genius and I thought: “Damn! I must be a genius too!”

Now, it’s true I never swept the Grammys so I guess I’m not quite on the same level as Finneas and his sister, but I have been using recordings of everyday items in my music for a long time and I’m pretty sure I’m not the first or last musician/producer to do that. In fact a quick web search will turn up many articles like this one giving details on unlikely sounds that have been used in pop songs in recent years.

I want to make it clear I’m not dissing Billie Eillish and her brother at all. I really liked “Bury a Friend” and “Bad Guy” the first 100 or so times I heard them and I also appreciate that she has achieved this level of success by bringing a whole new style to the table and not showing off her body. No, I just think the framing of the article was ridiculous and I’m using that ridiculousness as a jumping off point to make it about me – because I’m pretty sure that’s how the internet works these days.

So without further ado, here are three times I was a “genius” and used everyday recordings in my music.

“So Bad” – a copy machine

I found volunteering at my son’s school highly creative work and here’s proof: around 0:08, there’s two claps followed  by a sound like a phased drum; that’s the copy machine at my son’s elementary school recorded while making copies for the book fair.

“Body”  – a washing machine

The song begins with a drum roll and rhythm beneath the drum roll that continues throughout the song.  That rhythm is the sound of the washing machine at my friend Gina’s house.   Lucky for me, Gina does a lot of laundry even when she has house guests – had she not I probably would not have been inspired to write this song about David Bowie’s passing.

“Fan Fic” – a breast pump

 

Ah – my old Roland SP-555 sampler!  I loved that thing and I sold it thinking I was trading up to a better piece of equipment and I wasn’t.  I miss it so much!

Anyway – this song is at least ten years old and I had just come through a  year or so of occasionally pumping breast milk for my son.  The sound the pump made was unique and I started hearing voices in it – like singing voices, not like voices telling me to do things.  In this clip at the 30 second mark (after I finish pushing the “I play a sexy serial killer” button far too  many times) I hit the drums and a loop of the breast pump sound.  To me it sounds like voices singing “usha-may   usha-may  usha-may”.  Sadly this sound loop did not make it to the final recording of the song years later.

So there you have it, my favorite moments of “genius” from my songs.  If you have your own to add or know of other songs that use interesting sounds feel free to leave a reply!

 

 

sick

I have had a head cold for the past week, but have tried to continue operating like I’m totally fine. It’s a tried and true American value to show up and do your job even when you’re sick. This illustrates how things have gone for me. “I’m fine. I took a double dose of Dayquil an hour ago.”

Happy New Year!I have a New Year’s resolution.    It is somewhat daunting yet completely within my capability and will give me a sense of accomplishment and enrichment should I complete it.

 I plan to learn a poem by heart.

I decided this on the day before New Year’s eve.  My in-laws had left a day earlier and even though I had lots of work to do before the neighborhood New Year’s Eve partyI gave myself the morning off. I let the kids play video games in the family room, something they hadn’t done for over a week while their grandparents occupied the space, while I stayed in my pj’s and took to my bedroom like a moody teenager.  Lounging in bed I listened to old cassettes of a music project of mine from the late 80’s and read poems out of college text books.  It was self-indulgent time travel, yet it felt rejuvenating and necessary.  It reminded me how good poetry is for my soul.   That’s when I decided I was done with all the usual self-improvement resolutions.

Obviously the desire to eat better, exercise more, work smarter not harder, all while learning to love yourself for who you truly are, doesn’t work out for most people. If it did, the internet wouldn’t explode each January 1st with articles on how to make this year the year to keep your New Year’s Resolutions,  not to mention the crazy lists about the  7 Surprising Ways You’re Sabotaging Your Diet And Self-Esteem By Reading All These Lists About How You’re Doing Everything Wrong.   I don’t have the energy to think about all the things I’m doing wrong while trying to become a better person who accepts herself.  I think I’ll just live with my foibles, learn a poem and move on.

So then the question becomes – which poem do I learn? I do have a few poems in my repertoire – easy, short poems by W.B. Yeats and Emily Dickinson as well as the very first poem I ever committed to memory, a catchy verse from Kate Greenaway’s Under the Window .   I haven’t worked too hard at memorizing big chunks of words since my college days,  so there’s an inclination to keep it short and sweet, but I want it to be meaningful which brings me to a recent confluence of events:

Back in November, my friend, Nate, who was expecting his third son (born on December 31st 2013 – Congrats Nate and Rose!), told me he and his wife had decided to name the child Eliot after T.S. Eliot.  After learning this I felt the pull to re-read “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”, and so headed down to the family room to find my old copy of The Wasteland and other Poems.  I was barely there for 5 minutes before my kids appeared and asked what I was doing.  My husband, worried he was missing out on a party, showed up soon after.  I explained I was reading poetry and then without offering anyone a chance to escape, opened the book and began, “Let us go then, you and I . . .”

Both boys listened to the entire poem without interruption which I found amazing because while my inner voice reads the poem with the proper measured tone and inflections, the reading my real voice gave left a lot to be desired.    When I finished, my youngest son asked to hear more poetry. My eldest son seemed lost in thought.wasteland

“If you memorize passages of this poem and quote the right parts at the right time,“ I told my oldest son, “There are  people who will be very impressed and think good things about you.”

“Really,” he asked.

“Yep, especially that part about the mermaids, “my husband chimed in, “Everyone loves that part about the mermaids.” (It’s true.   Many, many years ago, back in the 1990’s, a friend sent me a handmade postcard with mermaids on the front.  On the back she had written “Actually, I do think they are singing to you.”  It was so touching that I have kept it, even though she has long since gone out of my life.)

My husband then put a record on the turntable and we sat there listening to music and, at least in my case, thinking about poetry.  It was one of those rare picture-perfect moments when your kids behave exactly like you imagined your kids would behave, before you actually had kids.  It gave me yet another reason to appreciate “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”

My younger self always appreciated the poem because by my humble interpretation, it touches on human frailty and failure, mortality and missed connections, all wrapped in the yearning for something greater that will never transpire.  It’s beautiful and timeless and I know small sections of it already, but it would be wonderful to have it all committed to memory.

And so, this year instead of resolving to take up the 7 habits of highly effective people, or eat only the 5 foods that will melt my belly fat, or try 10 tricks that will cut my workout time in half,  I resolve to learn “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.”   It doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t try other things, it simply means I am to making poetry a priority for my mind, body and soul.  After all, learning poetry by heart is the number one purest and safest way to ingest art and make it part of you.  I think it’s a pretty good resolution.

As an aside – I’ve often wondered how many people have a poem or poems committed to memory and what those poems might be.  Let me know if you do.