my music

Held My Tongue (2009 Demos) – 1/30

June 1, 2009 by krisis

This is post 1 of 30 featuring live, single-take demos of each of the 30 songs I’m considering for my upcoming studio album. Each potential album tune is accompanied by a B-Side, to make each post a virtual 45 single (remember those?).

Song #222: Small & Lonely (live demo)
Never previously recorded

I wrote “Small & Lonely” in May and June of 2008, largely while in-transit in Philly. Elise helped me with the melody of the chorus one day on the Broad Street Line.

Song #20: Sweet Nothing (live demo)
Last recorded sometime in 1999

I wrote “Sweet Nothing” in spring of 1998, in my childhood home. It’s heavily influenced by PJ Harvey’s “Ecstasy.” Note that in my youth I didn’t care so much about what key I was in.

If you dig one (or both) of these songs, please leave a comment – your feedback will have a big effect on the songs I ultimately choose for the album.

New demos for a new album(!)

June 1, 2009 by krisis

Sometime before autumn arrives I will begin to record my first full-length, multi-tracked, studio album since 2001’s Relief.

Wow. I knew that was true, but it’s pretty monumental to see it in print.

In 2001 I had 117 songs to choose from and two weeks of studio time to record and mix in Drexel’s tiny, single-room, analog recording studio. (They’ve vastly improved their resources since then.)

In 2009 I have 241 songs to choose from and an unlimited amount of studio time to record and mix in my own tiny, single-room, digital recording studio. (I’ve also vastly improved my resources since then.)

Of my 241 songs, 30 of them are in fierce competition for 13ish spots on the album. There’s also the other 211 songs, many of which are long overdue a fresh recording even though I’m not considering them for the album (and, maybe I would consider them if I had a fresh recording to listen to).

So, I’m planning to record live, single-take demos for each of my 30 top picks for the album, accompanying each one with a B-side from the other 211 songs. I’m sure I’ll toss a few covers in as well.

If I record a demo every day this month I’ll be ready to record my album by July! And, although that sounds implausible to me (and you) at the moment, CK reminds me that on three separate occasions I recorded 24 songs in less than a single week, and once I actually recorded 30 songs in a single month.

No matter how long it takes, it’ll be a chance for me (and you) to hear 60 of my songs in crisp, multi-tracked audio – and that should be enough new stuff to hold us over through however interminably long it takes me to record an actual album in my present state of dotage.

don’t fail me now

May 27, 2009 by krisis

The last forty-eight hours of my life.

At six o’clock on Monday I am playing guitar. I have been playing for hours, drilling songs against a metronome. The bridge of “Unengaged” for twenty minutes straight. I’ve worn through a callous for the first time in ages.

Later I rehearse piano and vocals equally as hard. I fall asleep reading Outliers in bed, which just two chapters in already has caused one blowup with E because I said if I had me as a child I’d call me a failure.

I don’t want to be a failure.

Tuesday I have a fun, frantic day at work – the kind where you realize at the end of the day that you never stopped to hang your coat. I start writing the second my ass is on the bus, and emerge almost three hours later with that last post.

I rehearse. Hard. Again. Trying not to fail. Despite my voice sounding brittle and inflexible due to the lack of a warm-up, I venture out to an open mic while E stays at home and works on freelance.

At the restaurant my first song is awesome; the room is quietly transfixed. (I’m not a failure?) Afterward I promptly break a string and become shy and faltering when I’m handed another guitar. I fuck up “Like a Virgin,” of all things, and promptly lose everyone’s attention.

Today I feel slightly beaten up (thank god I don’t drink at those things), on top of beating myself up. Still manage another frantic work day that barely includes a coat-hanging. On the way home I listen to my own voice on my iPod, which a lot of days is the only thing I can manage to do.

I’m listening to “Like a Virgin” from 2006 and thinking, This is awful. Why am i singing like that? (Of course, I wouldn’t make it ten seconds into “Like a Virgin” from 2001.)

Then I listen to a Trio from 2008 and realize, God, I really did get better.

I am not a failure.

I get home and am kissed goodbye as E heads out to front her band at the Khyber. Another hour of writing.

Making Music Work: An Introduction

May 25, 2009 by krisis

After a few months of worrying about the big events in my life more than my music, I decided to spend the past week focusing on my musical life.

Well, that and American Idol. (Hey, at least it’s thematically connected!)

Here’s a list of what I did:

Installed backend software on my band’s webpage
Worked on a new layout in Photoshop
Ordered new recording hardware
Uploaded videos
Talked to Gina about band strategy for the upcoming months
Listened to some new recordings for changes to EQ
Scheduled a rehearsal with a drummer
Changed my guitar strings
Networked with other musicians
Practiced piano with a metronome
Played through 20 or 30 cover songs looking for a new one

Do you notice anything missing from that list?

If you said, “playing your original music,” you’d be right.

Now, imagine if I was on a record label … or on American Idol. I certainly wouldn’t be doing any design, or working with software or hardware. Someone else would probably help me steer my strategy and mixing. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even have to change my own guitar strings, and I could hire someone to play piano for me!

If I was a major label musician the only thing on the list I would have definitely done for myself is the last thing – choosing cover songs. And, you know, maybe I would have fit in some practice time on my own songs.

Clearly, being an independent musician isn’t easy. Not only do you have to learn how to make compelling music, you have to take care of all of the other facets of being a musician on your own or with your bandmates. You don’t have anyone to do those things for you. You either do it yourself or make do without it.

This post is the start of a new CK feature aimed at sharing knowledge with other indie musicians to make all of those non-musical tasks easier to understand and achieve. I’m not an expert in the field, but I’m a rare Type-A musician that loves the process of making music as much as the music itself, and I’m happy to talk about what I’ve learned so far.

Whether you’re a musician gigging around town or just someone thinking about writing a song, you can help me get this series started. Is there something you can’t figure out how to do? What do you wish you had some help with? And, how often would you be interested in reading about this stuff?

Not mean enough?

April 30, 2009 by krisis

I’ve been the rotating host of the LP Wednesday night open mic since October, and it’s just recently reached self-sustaining status where we don’t have to plead and beg to get people to attend.

A regular weekly crowd means a slew of musicians who I’m getting know a little better, week by week. One is Trent AKA Stupa Thought. You wouldn’t peg him as someone I’d dig. He plays flat out modern rock with a tinge of hip hop rhythms – stuff that would be easily radio-ready with a fierce band behind him.

I like Trent because he takes music seriously. He’s quick to make light of a blown chord or when I forget to give him an extra round of applause, but when it comes to playing he’s as professional as anyone at the open mic. His arrangements are tight. His vocals are solid. His songs have distinct structure, and he wields a pedal board with looping to add texture.

I try to find a moment to get to know everyone in the room (be on the lookout for my open mic how-to post, coming soon), and I always wind up deep in conversation with Trent. Last week he said an interesting thing to me: “I don’t think any of your songs ever get angry enough. You go right up to the brink, but you always pull back.”

It’s a perceptive comment. I used to be the master of the kiss-off song, but I’ve long since abandoned it as my primary genre. You could argue that I’m mellower now that I’m married. I think it’s more that I comment on myself more now – even in songs about other people – a trend that started with “So Hard.” I think it’s important to root your song’s accusation in something common, and when you are writing something scathing that’s partially about yourself it’s hard not to add a slightly redemptive angle … even if it’s just a vocal that resolves major.

Trent challenged me to come back this week with as nasty a set as I could summon. After some consulting with Elise, I came up with: Splinter (legendarily nasty break-up tune), Bridge (unapologetically fierce alt-tuning rocker from high school), Real You (utter dissection of a false friend), and my “single” Shake It Off – a takedown of passive aggressiveness that was already deemed not mean enough due to the hopeful bent of the chorus.

The set felt awesome. I’m sure my hour of vocal warmups helped, but it was more that I’m not used to seething for four songs anymore. Now that I’m not in that awful place 24/7 I can appreciate a little focused rage. It makes me happy that I wrote the songs – now they’re like pressure valves I can use to blast out a little antipathy at a moment’s notice.

Trent’s assessment? That I certainly picked my nastiest guitar work, but he still feels like I let my vocals redeem the subjects of my wrath.

Can you think of a popular song that’s mean not necessarily because of it’s music, or even its lyrics, but because of a fierce vocal performance that doesn’t scream, growl, or otherwise contort itself? “You’re So Vain” comes to mind.

Comment if you can think of one.