The Disquiet Junto project this week is to "Record a piece of drone music using sounds from your home."
It reminded me that I'd recorded my washing machine, because I liked the rhythm it was making.
I took the video and stretched, then pitched it down and used Live's MIDI function to create the notes being played by a couple of VST synths.
Then I tried a few instances of Lossy and other effects to make the parts all sound like they fitted together.
This week’s Junto project is a communal remix using either the original or the “denoised” version of this 1922 recording of the classic 'St. Louis Blues.'
The "denoising" was remarkable when I went back to the original!
Marc's instructions state:
Break the track into segments. While you may be inclined toward tiny granular slivers, consider emphasizing bars or phrases. Experiment with segments of equal length and of varying lengths.
I found a number of bars that interested me and, given it was a remix, immediately set about adding percussion to drive my engagement with the piece.
Before long I'd started to apply my usual remix methodology, particularly gating sections and using Live's Beatrepeat function.
Some sections were reversed as well.
Finally, I applied Goodhertz' Lossy effect to add dynamics and give the drums a grittier sound that sat better with the source material.
The result gives me an early Kid Koala vibe and that's a good thing.
I still remember the early days of Youtube, when a simple video could reach thousands of people and it wasn't showing me smacking my partner's arse.
The video-sharing website has tweaked and changed its algorithms any number of times and you can no longer easily find my affectionate slap on her backside.
A couple of simple videos are still among my most-viewed content, despite the efforts that have gone into more thought-provoking material.
I guess it's possible that my mother wrote the URL on strips of paper and handed them out in the bus interchange again.
This week’s project is to interpret the markings on the back of a cello as a graphic score.
After a couple of weeks without a Junto, I jumped on the drumkit and put down a rhythm on Friday afternoon after finishing my uni assignments.
I thought the score looked busy and decided on something upbeat.
Then today I recorded the chords and bass between sessions of Haiku Down Under.
To finish I spent my evening mixing it and am now waiting for the video to render.
I liked the idea loneliness is a feeling that comes and goes, so I added a reversed part along with reverb and delay for more whelm.
The Disquiet Junto project this week asks for "a piece of music that consists of nothing but held tones of varying lengths that start and end suddenly and that overlap as the piece unfolds."
I reached for my bowls, as I knew I couldn't spend too much time working on this piece now that I've returned to full-time study.
This was my third take as the sunlight was starting to fade and I like how the birdsong came through.
I misunderstood the assignment sometime between reading the Junto instructions and recording a track today.
The instructions said to "Make music for babies’ parents" and I read them on my way to Canberra on Thursday, then this morning spoke with my partner about a song idea that I'd been meaning to develop.
It was on an earlier trip to Canberra that I was driving past Lake George and had a lyric and melody pop into my head, so I recorded a short video using my phone.
This musical snippet suited a message I have for new parents.
When you become a parent there are various ways that your life changes and it's important to remain focused on your relationship with the person with whom you had a child.
There are stresses like sleep and bodily changes and also the shift to becoming a parent can trigger things, so you have to make a conscious effort to support each other.
It was this idea of presenting a united front to the world that I wanted to put into the song.
The lyrics go:
This beautiful life that we’ve embroidered
you be a needle to carry my thread
so tightly the patterns intertwined
it is tempting to see it as divine
Weaving together our new family
tentative plans clothe our bed
on life’s loom a fabric known
we work with what our hearts have grown
And I know our family grows
a new world, a new world
and I know our love will show
to the world, to the world
Inside our home we commit our time
choosing to bring each other a shine
take change in circumstance in our stride
I follow your moonlight like the tide
Each day is a season in our lives
we plant words with care so they may thrive
in consultation we share our pride
to present a prime they can’t divide
Then they know our family grows
a new world, a new world
Then they know a love we show
to the world, to the world
The Disquiet Junto project this week asks for music for babies.
I'd begun thinking through different ideas and then spoke with my oldest son, who's home from uni for the holidays.
As I explained the Junto project I remembered my attempts to soothe him as an infant.
First-time fathers learn a number of lessons, from how hospitals view them as a liability to feeling inadequate when a baby wants to be fed.
I can't remember how I arrived at this technique but it sometimes worked.
I would hold my baby close and sing while turning on the spot.
The key lesson I would impart to first-time fathers is the importance of skin-to-skin contact at every opportunity.
With my first child I was too worried to hold him, but subsequent kids got stuck to my chest at the first opportunity and it seemed as though they knew who I was much earlier.
It's not easy being a father and working through the changing dynamic from being a couple to becoming a family.
The best thing is to be ready to provide comfort, ensure your partner has a glass of water during breastfeeding and let go of expectations.
That last point is one that becomes obvious as soon as you enter the hospital and the birth plan is forgotten as the staff do what they think needs to be done to cure the pregnancy.
As you become accustomed to being the least important person in the room, you begin a journey that's different for everyone but entirely your own opportunity to revisit your own upbringing with a new perspective.
It's no wonder that many relationships don't survive this shift, so be ready to play a new role and marvel at the little joys as they arrive.
The smell of the newborn; the moment you feel they see you; that first smile; and then the months of teething,
And shit -- so much shit.
Literal, metaphorical and it's a fertiliser that makes life grow.
The Disquiet Junto project this week asks participants "Stop doing something you always do."
As a longtime contributor to the Junto, I have shared so much of my life in various recordings.
If you were to go through previous projects you'd find everything from making my favourite dish (kimchi) through to having a bath and also making love.
There really isn't much that I haven't already tried and shared with the Disquiet community!
I arrived at the idea of not contributing to the Junto this week, however it seemed as though that would go without notice if I didn't record something for the prompt.
So I've arrived at the idea of sharing an update on a recent activity that's taken me in a different direction and have decided that I won't publish it on the forum where contributors are encouraged to share.
The Disquiet Junto project this week is to "Set a favorite story to music."
My partner suggested that I should use my Totem Story, which I wrote last year and like a lot but it got a mixed reaction from the judges of a competition.
(They thought it was inappropriate for me to write from a First Nations' perspective, which I can understand is not my experience to represent even if it is historical fiction.)
Anyway, recently I've been playing with the M-Tron Pro VST and used it for all the instrumentation except the drums.
I was aiming for a sense of uncertainty, as well as incorporating a human voice and obviously the organ is there for the religious moments.
The video came from Archive.org and was something I had on hand that seemed to suit the music, although it has nothing to do with the story.
It features a man addressing a different sort of storm and offered a good challenge to remix the material into a song.
It was my response to this week’s prompt:
Lewis asks, “Why do we want our computers to improvise?”
This week’s project: record a piece of music that responds in some way to Lewis’ question.
I often use the Random effect, as it adds little variations to the loops I make.
Today I ramped the effect up to 100% and found that Ableton Live's onboard instruments started to crap themselves.
So I sent the information out to my Roland Boutique rack and recorded the results.
Dunno, weirdly it doesn't seem so unpredictable.
Maybe I should've shifted a few more parameters?
The Junto prompt led me to read a little about concerto and I got the impression that it's been one of those types of events where people have shown flair in ways.
So I started pondering what I'd want to see given the solo performer treatment and pulled out my Omnichord thinking that I could finally write a song that showcased electric toothbrushes.
Then I began to ponder my lead instrument and looked around a bit more, before arriving at the video of cowbells. These are near my office and sometimes I hear visitors using them.
So I added a beat, as one does, then thought what sounds would support a cowbell solo?
You can see I've used Behringer's 606 and 303 with Chase Bliss' Condor and Generation Loss pedals, as well as a Korg FM Volca and a Shure SM7.
The Junto project this week is to "Make some daylight drones for Drone Day."
This took me about five minutes.
My son dismissed the results as "New Age-y" but that seemed appropriate to me.
The video shows a pair of Rainbow Lorikeets that were at the Museum the other week, which is a bit unusual but not the first time I've seen this species in the Riverina.
The Disquiet Junto prompt this week is to interpret the literal translation of “karaoke.”
This idea of an an 'empty orchestra' led me to share a track that I sequenced using MIDI in Ableton Live.
It has some orchestral instruments, particularly viola and cello, as well as being empty through not featuring human musicians.
I've used a short video from a rockpool at Valla Beach to add interest.
If I had a sandwich named after me, I think that would be the height of my career. Who wouldn’t want a sandwich named after them? I do like a straight butter and banana sandwich. It’s incredible. That was one of the culinary highlights of my childhood, with a tin of tomato soup. My father swore the greatest sandwich that he had in his life was whipped cream, banana and sliced ham. I don’t eat meat so I would say whipped cream and banana on a pillowy white bread.
The Junto prompt this week is:
Record something, slow it down, and then record over it.
I took an unused take of the drums from last week, then added tenor guitar and upright electric.
The tenor was recorded through Chase Bliss Audio Condor Mk.I and Warped Vinyl Mk.II pedals, then I added a tape-style delay while mixing.
"People think you’re a weirdo if your happiness doesn’t depend on the size of your bank account. So you must have balls of steel to do arts. It’s not that bad if you have a few like-minded people around, though.”
Music has always had the tantalising effect of being simultaneously within reach and yet unachievable.
Before Thomas Edison developed and marketed the technology to record sound, music was captured in notation and sheet music and it was a big business.
The concept of musical copyright had its beginnings in the reign of King Henry VIII of England (1491-1547) who licensed the printing of music.
This means that for centuries, if you had a favourite song, you either had to play it yourself or be fortunate enough to pay someone else.
Otherwise you might only hear the song maybe a few times in your whole life.
Then Edison's inventions led from wax cylinders to the discs that were an actual record of the session where the musicians played together.
After the Second World War a new market category developed, where teenagers with disposable incomes became a focus of the recording industry and a genre now known as Rock n' Roll developed.
I have a theory that the introduction of tape as a recording medium played a role, particularly the saturation on transients like the drum hits and expressive singing.
Then guitarists wanted that energy and it went from The Kinks cutting their speakers with razor blades to the development of distortion effects for Black Sabbath.
In many ways Rock n' Roll became the model for subsequent genres, particularly the structures used for popular music but also the marketing.
There was your basic 12-bar blues, if you weren't afraid of "black" music, as well as the Skiffle phenomenon that might've given musicians like Jimmy Page an introduction to playing an instrument before he took inspiration from those earlier Blues songs.
In my lifetime I've heard rap music starting to use choruses through the influence of LL Cool J and producer Rick Rubin, through to rave music similarly adopting these song structures as it moves from illegal gatherings to nightclubs and then TV advertising.
I suspect it was these structures that gave new sounds a recogniseable shape for the ears of consumers.
This will be the challenge for musicians, balancing the strangeness of new sounds with serving it up in a shape that can fit the model of a song.
So I sympathise with those musicians who find their investment in producing a cultural product is offering diminishing returns.
However, I wonder whether we aren't seeing a return to earlier forms of music consumption.
Back to a time when music was almost incidental to most lives in the sense that peak live experiences of a favourite song were limited.
As well as recorded music offering little return, but maybe there'll be new models of patronage.
This means the opportunities for many professional musicians are likely peripheral to their own aspirations, such as the local identity who runs the musical instrument shop.
Or someone like me who is making sense of the Edison-branded wax cylinders in a community museum.
We can take our love of music and find the ways it opens opportunities to learn.
Playing music is a wonderful social experience and maybe it's misleading to think we should be monetising all of our passions?
The Junto project is to record music for a party and it happened to coincide with my family leaving me at home alone.
That would’ve been my cue to have a party, but I had responsibilities such as packing an exhibition and pitching a TED talk.
I’d been looking for an opportunity to record the drum kit, which will be moved in the next month so we can use the fire when the cold weather starts.
When the Junto instructions arrived I had the chorus riff, so set about adding a couple of chords for the verses and wrote lyrics on Friday.
Then I quickly MIDI’d a sketch to play along with and recorded the drums and guitar on Saturday morning.
I gave myself three takes for each and edited these to record the bass and vocals today.
There’s a bit of editing to smooth out my performances, as well as adding a second guitar part and double-tracked chorus from earlier takes.
My plan was to record a blues track, as I’ve been thinking about Ethan Hein’s song lesson in recent weeks and bending notes.
The Disquiet Junto this week takes inspiration from Yoko Ono, who wrote “Take the sound of the stone aging.”
I've used the gear that I brought on holiday to the coast and thought about the stones along the beach.
These will give a crunchy sound and glisten in the most beautiful colours, which become muted by the time I bring them back to the house.
The guitar swells like the surf and I gated the 303-style bass to bring the rhythm back to a slower pace, like a geological scale.
Then I took the MIDI part and ran it through a Live preset with gold in the title.
I found myself thinking about the pummelling of the surf, while jamming on the gear that I brought along to my holiday at the coast.
I've been on holiday at the beach and had recorded the chords using a Jamstik guitar, sending the MIDI to Ableton Live's electric keyboard instrument.
It's been a rainy day today, so I arranged those parts and then recorded my upright bass.
This is about the sixth take and I think I was getting a bit carried away as the bass part is probably too busy.
Anyway, it's been fun to make music and it helps justify all the equipment I packed!
The Disquiet Junto project this week invites participants to make a techno track using kick drums made from the sound of something carbonated.
It stumped me for a few hours, as I'm on holiday at the coast and wasn't sure I could record a good pop even if I had a bottle of sparkling wine.
Then I remembered Archive.org and downloaded:
These were edited in Ableton Live and used only the effects within that software.
I found the sparkling pops worked for the snare sound and also the bass part, but there was a sample of Clive putting down some bit of equipment that gave an okay kick sound.
With that in mind it's interesting that two of the three videos compared the pop of the cork to a farting noise.
After shaping up the loops and getting a rhythm going, I gave the track structure in Live's Arrangement view and added the vocal part since I liked Clive's commentary.
Recently I heard a talk from Andrew Skeoch about his field recordings.
It was a thoughtful presentation that opened with audio he’d captured of the dawn chorus of birds in Victorian bushland.
Andrew shared a spectrogram with the birdcalls that showed their frequencies and then identified specific bird species to discuss their evolution and how this shaped their communications.
A cuckoo, for example, had a deeper call to reach other cuckoos as they were more geographically isolated species.
Other species engaged in a call and response that saw their birdsongs adapt to new melodies, which reflected my own recent experiences whistling with Pied Butcherbirds.
He spoke on the way some sounds will evade detection, while others include transients that help identify the location of the bird.
As the presentation neared the conclusion, Andrew reflected on the subjective experience of time to consider how different species in the landscape operate in different speeds.
He speculated that dragonflies, for example, live at a pace over a hundred times faster than humans.
To illustrate his point he slowed down the birdcall (but maintained pitch) of a small bird to demonstrate how more emotive their sequence sounded when we could identify the micro-phrases that constituted it.
I really enjoyed hearing his perspective and am grateful for the Murrumbidgee Field Naturalists for inviting Andrew to visit Leeton.
