I've Moved!

Thank you for following my blog here at Between The Music. Ever since starting this blog, I started thinking about incorporating it into my website, and I've finally taken that step. The writing that I have been doing here will now take place directly at the new and improved:

http://www.cameronmizell.com

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Thanks again for your continuous support and comments thus far. See you at the new website!

Seth Godin - Eternal September

I don't normally repost other people's blogs in their entirety, but I like this recent Seth Godin post too much to not share it:

Eternal September

Our story so far...

Back in the 1960s, TV shows took great pains to catch you up on what had happened so far. Batman spent a minute or so recapping last week's story. So did The Fugitive. The thought was that while most people had seen the show just seven days ago, what about the people who missed it?

Fifteen years ago, someone coined the term, Eternal September. Because each September sees an entire crop of freshman showing up at college, you need to assume that you have to start teaching protocols all over again. Once a year, it's a whole new audience, and they need to learn the ropes.

The Internet has been stuck in September ever since. Every day, new people show up at your blog, on Facebook, everywhere. Every day it's a whole new crop that need to figure out what RSS is and how to subscribe. Every day there are people who spam their address book because it feels like a fine thing to do, then learn their lesson and never do it again. There are new people who need to learn the proper etiquette for interacting on your site. Can you imagine if the real world worked this way? If people walking into your store had never been to a store before? If drivers on the highway had never driven on a highway before?

It's going to be a long time before the medium stabilizes enough for the newbies to catch up, so the only alternative is to accept that it's always September.

Last week I listened to George Harrison's All Things Must Pass for the first time. I've been exploring more of the individual Beatles' solo albums recently, along with a couple friends that I work with about once a week. It just goes to show that, even for the Beatles, there are people out there that will hear your music for the first time more than 30 years after you made it. There's an endless supply of fans out there.

Brainstorm

Where do ideas come from? Is there an endless supply?

When I listen to prolific improvisers like Keith Jarrett or John Coltrane is seems like the ideas never run out. Sure, there is repetition in solos, and if you really study the playing of any great improviser you will find some archetypal motifs or licks for that particular musician. Nobody plays a great idea only once. But what makes these artists original? Why has there never been anybody else like them before?

While studying jazz in college, some students really looked at improvising as math. There are only so many notes and so many chords, surely you can figure out X number of ways to get from points A to B. These guys pointed to books like the Charlie Parker Omnibook or Patterns for Jazz as proof that there are a limited (though vast) number of options. They had a point. The creation of sound and the way it's organized as music can all be explained through science. However, there have been a number of experiments with music, such as atonal composition, that demonstrate that it takes more than math to create art.

The truth is, it's a lot of both. Originality comes from a deep understanding of the fundamentals. That's how you build a vocabulary to communicate in creative ways. It's the way those fundamentals are translated and applied that makes all the difference. That's why two musicians can play the same tune and it sounds completely different. That's why no matter how much writing I do, the fact that I use the same language as him will never make me Shakespeare.

I'm constantly looking for new ideas. Ideas for a song, ideas for guitar, ideas for marketing my music, ideas for writing articles. I often feel like I'm beating a tired idea into the ground because I don't know what to do next. At times like these I go back to the fundamentals. I listen to music by artists that defined a style, practice some old patterns over a new set of chords, or read.

Right now I feel stuck in a lot of places, but I know the ideas are out there. I just need to keep digging.

(Photo via seretuaccidente)

Collaboration

Over the past year, I've been working with more people on different projects. In all cases, there is no boss. No deadlines other than what we set for ourselves. No standards other than what everyone involved agrees is best. Nothing is done until everyone says it's done.

Writing music is generally a very private activity. The ideas that form in your head usually marinate in there for a while, and you play with different possibilities each time you pick up your instrument or whenever you find yourself alone to think. By the time anyone else hears your new tune, you've probably spent 100+ hours on it. At least, that's how it usually works with me.

When collaborating, new ideas are immediately judged by whoever you're working with. You have to trust those people enough to be seen artistically naked. Either somebody likes your idea and starts to work with it, or your idea simply gets ignored. There's little room for ego, and a lot of room to take risks. The worst that can happen is your craziest idea just gets ignored.

Everyone I've worked with has a different style. Some people are meticulous with every note--it might work, but is it the best choice? Others work from their gut--if it feels right, it's right (and if it needs to change later, that's OK). Others come to the table knowing what they want and it's my job to first give them that, then start throwing curve balls until they realize what they really want is something else. Each approach is excellent as long as it's not closed off to new ideas.

I've learned a lot while collaborating with my friends. My ear has gotten better (ideas are usually spoken on the instrument, not by yelling out a chord). I've gotten a glimpse of how everyone else writes, and it helps get me out of jams while writing alone.

If you need to expand your creative palette, work with a friend.

Emulating Genius

While studying jazz in college, I realized that I learned the most from transcription. When I think about it, the goal of the curriculum was to teach me how to do what the guys on the record were doing. While it helps to have an instructor or mentor review your progress, correct your mistakes, and help you through difficult passages, it really all comes down to using your ears to sound like soloist in the recording.

Transcribing is such an effective way to learn because you're learning more than just the notes on a piece of paper, you're also learning how to imitate tone, feel, and inflections. Nuance. These are things that can't be notated and can't really be taught in private lessons.

This exercise shouldn't be reserved only for jazz musicians. As my tastes have branched out, I keep finding beauty and genius in other styles of music, by artists that probably had much less formal training than me, if any at all. I want to learn from all of them.

It seems to me a lot of musicians now get so preoccupied with establishing their own sound or their own style that they forget to really explore the music of the artists that inspire them the most. Take a moment to think about how your favorite artists got to be as good as they are now. How did they develop their style? What makes their sound so recognizable?

Chances are, it took years of focused development, one way or another. Do you really think there's a shortcut?

Practicing

This past week I've been practicing at least twice as much as my usual average. This is for a number of reasons: 1) I'm trying to learn more music. 2) Recordings of a couple recent gigs really kicked my butt. 3) And I'm just trying to force a dedicated practice schedule into my routine.

The last few days I've been working on some new concepts. Ideas that keep popping in my head while performing, but I'm never able to execute them (see #2 above). The first three days of working on these concepts was like pulling teeth. My own teeth. The patterns were somewhat awkward to play on guitar, there are countless variations that confuse my brain and my fingers, and it has to be played really fast to sound right. It's just supposed to be a flurry of notes--something I hardly do when I improvise but want to have in my bag for the right moments. I stopped and asked myself everyday, "Is this worth it? Will it even sound good?"

This morning it all just clicked, at least after priming the pump a little. I could throw it into the right spots during a solo and it sounds great, exactly how I've been hearing it in my head.

The lesson here is an old one. Don't give up. I talked about it with my buddy Dave today, and he described practicing music as a set of stairs, not a ramp. It's a series of walls and plateaus. You bang your head against a wall for a while and then one morning, if you've stuck to it long enough, you'll get up to the next plateau.

If you're a beginner, you face the same obstacles as somebody that's played for 20 years. We're just in different places along an endless staircase. Whether your victory is finally getting that bar chord to sound right or you've finally mastered your melodic minor modes, we can all relate to each other. Keep putting in the hours.

Head Down, Plowing Through

I've started another recording project, this time with vocalist Erika Lloyd, who fronts an indie rock band called Little Grey Girlfriend. We're doing a set of cover songs. While we haven't scheduled a formal release date, I think we're on pace to finish recording by the end of May, so it may be available by early July.

Erika and I met in Bloomington, Indiana. We were in the same music theory class at IU. She also lived down the street from me, just off campus. We got to be pretty good friends, and then she moved to NYC shortly and me. Her boyfriend also happens to be Brad Whiteley, who plays in my trio and appears on a couple of my albums. It sometimes makes me feel old to think about having "couple friends," but Brad and Erika are definitely one of Jill and my best couple friends. It's nice to have such talented friends, and even nicer to be able to work with them.

So far we've tracked for six songs:

"Creep" by Radiohead
"Heart of Glass" by Blondie
"Hey" by The Pixies
"Nobody Home" by Pink Floyd
"One Caress" by Depeche Mode
"The Fool On The Hill" by The Beatles

On deck we have:

"Everything Means Nothing To Me" by Elliot Smith
"Faith" by George Michael
"Soul Love" by David Bowie
"Alabama Song" by The Doors
"Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing" by Stevie Wonder
"All I Want" by Joni Mitchell
"Cherry Coloured Funk" by Cocteau Twins

Once we get into the mixing phase I'll start posting the works in progress for preview. But so far things are sounding pretty good and we're having a great time in the process.