MikeRobinson

I was always attracted to the keyboard – I am barely passable on stringed instruments – because "every note is equally and instantly available," and because you also instantly see the relationship between them. There are the twelve notes: some are white keys, some are black, and the spacing of the black keys is not regular. Even if you don't play keyboards on a regular basis, the design of the thing illustrates many things that western music theory often talks about – such as why the spacing of those black keys is not regular. When you play the C-major scale ("all white keys"), you see where the black-note ("whole step") intervals do and do not fall. "What is a 'half step,' and what is a 'whole step?'" It is immediately and intuitively obvious with a keyboard, unlike every other instrument. (Want an instant "pentatonic scale?" Just play all black keys. It's not the only such scale, but it sure is easy to get to.)

I write music – often for my own pleasure – both because I've done it all my life and because we've never had technology such as this. As I was growing up, I subscribed to [Contemporary ...] Keyboard Magazine, and I lusted after stories about artists who could – and, did – spend $100,000+ for a customized "Synclavier" or a "Fairlight." Never in my wildest dreams imagining that one day I would have access to far more than this ... in some cases literally for nothing. Today, we not only have "a word-processor for music," but unbelievable and unprecedented post-production capabilities. We have "more than enough computer power and storage space" to take advantage of it all. So, if you can't think of a song to write and say that you can't manage to write one – "don't blame the hardware!!" 😀 Because "you live in interesting times," and it isn't a curse.

Well, thanks. (*blush!*) I guess I wrote that piece after I'd gone through at least three "music theory" classes – in junior high, high school, and college – and, while I managed to pass them with the grade I wanted ("A", thank you very much ...), I honestly never understood a thing. So, many years later, I started using on-line resources to begin to teach myself. And sure enough, "hidden in there were a few simple-but-important ideas, waiting to get out." They were hidden behind things that I had to memorize without ever being told what they meant. Decades later, as I explored the cultural history, I learned that at one time there were even more "pig-latin phrases." I also learned where "do-re-mi" came from! Finally, I had to figure out for myself what they actually meant, and why they might be important to me. Ironically, one excellent resource is: a cartoon book! Music Theory for Musicians and Normal People. (It is a work in progress – Toby Rush keeps adding to it.) Another resource, if you don't mind reading a book by an extremely well-known songwriter whose "Middle Eight" is an unabashed and very advanced college-level textbook, is Tunesmith, by Jimmy Webb. (I've fought my way through it dozens of times now, learning something new each time, and I now have signed(!) copies in both softcover and hardback. Do not expect to read this thing "before you go to sleep at night.") Lately, I've begun exploring the theory of Indian music – as in "India" – which is altogether and completely different and therefore so-far is just completely blowing my mind. (No, I'm not a masochist – just a geek who likes to understand how things work.)

Me, too.

"Play it, Sam ..." That immortal single line, from the immortal movie Casablanca, really says it all to me. Because, as a musician, somewhere out there, "there is your audience." And, "this is what (s)he is saying to you." But – the connection between the two of you, whenever and however it miraculously happens, is a moment, not any genre. "There is no formula." Therefore, do not look for one. Clay, I look forward to your offerings "based upon rhythms from the Caribbean, South America, and Africa." Please "lift me from my personal 'oppressive times.'" And, please do so in your(!) very personal way. However – as you do so, "do not judge your fellows, because you do not need to." Do not judge "the marketplace." Simply prepare your product and trust that 'the market' will surely find it. Specifically including me.

Yes, Masterclass is a very good site – true to its namesake. These days, I've been trying to upgrade my keyboard skills in a much more old-fashioned way: trying to teach myself how to sight-read scores from the master composers of yesteryear. "However we do it, may we never stop learning."

Well, for what it's worth ... "Any 'song that you hear' was ... constructed." In other words – "it never actually ... miraculously appeared" ... like Venus from that clam-shell. Example: "Michelangelo's David" ... what is the one thing that you never see? Yeah ... "Marble chips!" 😀 Yes, we'll never know the names of the craftsmen who spent who-knows how many hours, rubbing abrasive powder against the stone using however-many yards of cloth ...

Here's a good link: https://www.sageaudio.com/blog/pre-mastering/sidechaining.php

Your final question should end with "N/A."

I daresay that a great many musicians have had "a terrible experience that they will not soon forget" with "music theory classes," whether they were in high school or college or both. How can we soon forget pig-Latin words like "Aeolian" or "Mixolydian," or, God help us, "Phrygian," or the stupid rhymes like "I Don't Particularly Like My Alcoholic Life" (my personal fave ...) which would help you to remember them in proper order – which you had to do, or fail the next exam. I don't remember any teacher who ever clearly explained to me why I should give a damn about anything they had been saying, once the damned class was through and I'd added another useless-to-me letter to my academic score-card. None of them told me why it mattered: it was just, "memorize this, and regurgitate it correctly on demand." Or so I thought at the time. But there really is a reason why you should pay more attention to "the purely-theoretical aspects of music," no matter what you call them. Because, as composers as early as JS Bach realized, "there is a theoretical, in fact mathematical, basis to Western music." And it can help you get out of "musical tight spots." It can offer you creative options that you wouldn't have thought of otherwise. And, it can show you why some of the songs that you love actually "work." No, this post is not a prelude to Yet Another Music Theory Course. The Internet is already stuffed with them, so it doesn't need one more. Instead, I'd just like to point out a few "neat tricks" that you can do on any keyboard instrument, as well as things about the keyboard itself that you might not have really considered before. (If you don't play one, go buy a keyboard ... the cheapest one you can find, yes, but buy one. All twelve notes of Western music, equally available, and with a few musical insights that aren't nearly so obvious with air-tubes or strings.) "All White Notes, But Not Beginning With 'C'": Take a song, such as Merrily We Roll Along, and play it using "all white notes." First, begin on C. Now, shift your hands two places to the left and play the same song ... all white notes ... beginning with A. ("As though 'A' were 'C.'") Suddenly, we're "rolling along" in a minor key! Now, play the same song beginning with another note. You have seven to choose from, and every one of them sounds different. Congratulations: you have just played Merrily We Roll Along in pig-latin: in seven different modes. White Keys and Black Keys Are Unequally Spaced: When playing on a keyboard, did you ever notice the black keys? As you played a melody using "the white keys," did you ever consider what it meant that some of the white keys have a black key in-between them, while others do not? That they are not spaced equally, but occur in a group of two and a group of three? That the "two-group" is separated from the "three group" by two white keys, but "the two white keys" that occur above the "three group" span an octave? There's method to that madness, and it's actually what produces "the seven modes." When you moved from one starting white-key to another, you rotated the sequence of "white notes that do have a black note between them" – whole steps – and "those that do not" – half steps. And, presto, Merrily sounded completely different, seven times in a row, all because of this. Why Does "The Key of F Major" Have "One Flat," and Why Is It B Flat?: Think back to what happens when you play a song using "all white notes, beginning with C." (The "C Major Scale.") Notice the position of those black keys. Notice the pattern of "whole steps" and "half steps," which by the way is WWHWWWH. If you play any song, beginning at any starting position on the scale, such that this particular sequence of whole and half steps is preserved, the song will be "in a major key." So now, start with F as your first note, and count your way up the scale, maintaining that same sequence of whole and half steps. You'll quickly find that, in order to do that, B must be B-flat. And that is why. Okay, What About "F Minor?" Aww, you guessed it already. Just as you did with "all white keys starting with A instead of C," simply move your fingers two notes to the left, and play your melody as before – with B flat. "It sounds minor," and for exactly the same reason as before: because you rotated the sequence: WHWWHWW. (Mumble mumble: "minor key" = "Aeolian mode" = as Nashville musicians would say, "Mode #6.") "The Nashville Number System": Because session musicians "don't particularly like their alcoholic life" either – at least not in this context! They have no use for pig-latin. Since there are, after all, "seven modes, beginning with major," they simply numbered them: one to seven. And of course, being the musical gods that they were (and still are), they could effortlessly play anything that you wrote, in any of them. Surprises of "Equal Temperament" and Intervals: Most folks do not realize that the notes of the scale are not equally spaced. (Only the players of non-fretted stringed instruments directly encounter this.) Instead, the sound frequencies are very slightly altered so that you can actually do what we just did: "start the scale at any point and it sounds the same." This is so-called equal temperament. But you might have noticed already that it doesn't sound quite the same. If you fool around with the keyboard, playing consecutive notes that are "so-many black-or-white keys apart" (an interval ...), you'll quickly realize that they actually sound different. Every "chord" is, minimally speaking, "two adjacent intervals," but the same (say) "1-Major" chord does not sound the same when it is constructed at different points (there are 12 to choose from ...) on the keyboard. Try it for yourself. P.S.: When the entire then-novel idea of "equal temperament" was just getting started, the legendary composer and keyboardist J. S. Bach wrote a series of pieces which he entitled"The Well-Tempered Clavier" just to promote it. Of course, all "2 * 24" (yes, he did it twice) of them are "pure genius." (And, well worth studying if you really want to see, by example, "how it all really works.") You Actually Don't Have To "Shift Your Hands." The end result is actually the same. You can "play a song in a minor key, beginning with C," simply by playing "E-flat" instead of "E." If you look carefully, you will see that "the rotated combination of WWHWWWH" turns out exactly the same. When you "started with A, then moved up to B, then played C," you now crossed a half-step in the third position, whereas when you "start with C, then play D, then E," each of these three notes are separated by a whole step, and the half-step is yet to come. (No: "three versus four" does not matter: what matters is "the WWHWWWH sequence, and where you are right now in it. In the first position, or the sixth. The sequence does not change.) Therefore ... Every "Mode" Is "A Key Signature" ... Just A Different One: This is a very important realization. Every time you "play in a different mode" – any "mode" – you are always playing in one of the "key signatures" that you will find at the left end of any musical score. It's just a different one ... relative to(!) the key in which you are now "centering." And this musical tension is the actual source of the magic: the two keys "pull towards and against" the other. Now that you are (hopefully ...) no longer in school and therefore no longer forced to memorize pig-latin, I hope that my little exposure to the topic has piqued your interest. Because there are usefully-exploitable ideas "not-so hidden" in the theoretical structure of Western music that you just might use to make your next song ... or your last song ... sound refreshing. Let your audience enjoy your "trick" as a pleasant surprise. Promise I won't tell them how the trick was done. And no, I don't have a course to sell you. (Should I?)

Something else to think about ... Every newspaper, and every criminal investigative unit, keeps a so-called "morgue file." This is, quite literally, "where everything that we have ever produced 'goes to die,' precisely so that it doesn't." On your hard-drive, create a "Not-Trash" folder. Instead of actually "sending it to the digital nether-regions," shove it there instead. (Then "fuhgeddaboudit," as you had planned.) One day you will open that folder again . . . and therein you will find what you are looking for.

"In my head." And, every time another song wanders through it, I reach for my phone, punch "Voice Memos," and start humming. If lyrics are wandering around at the same time, I say them. Some folks have begun putting (broken-down ...) pianos in public places. Sometimes I just sit down and play. ... After putting my phone on top of the thing and turning on "Voice Memos." Plenty of artists have learned this lesson. One thing that clearly stood out to me, as I re-watched the documentary It Might Get Loud, was that – instinctively – when any of the artists "improvised," they switched on a tape recorder. Now of course, "that's merely the beginning." Songwriting, proper, is really very much a very-deliberate act of development that might actually lead to several outcomes.

Oddly enough, Arty, when you "watch a movie," or these days even when you "watch the news," you are reacting in-part to the very deliberate actions of a [fiction ...] writer. Also: I firmly believe that you can write about anything – even the death of a sibling, child abuse. Even: "selling your child into prostitution in order to save her." ("Fancy" – as "knocked out of the park" by Reba McEntire.) There are literally no limits to what "a simple song" can do or say.

"And, Arty ... look at the very precious thing that you are able to do ... for them!" They're all human beings, all of them locked (without their consent) in the prison known as "intellectual disability." Don't you suppose that they know that ... even though they can't express it? Here, you bring them "the universal." MUSIC! God bless you. "Music is ... God's own gift." Don't anyone out there ever forget that. ... hmmm ... might that previous sentence become a song?

Arty, reading your earlier post about "the Intellectual Disability center that you work at," the thought really struck me that the creative possibilities that might come from being and working at such a place might prove to be pure gold. Why? Well, because: "is 'what we do' really about us, or about the listener?" And, if it truly is about "the listener," do we really know who "the listener" is? It's terribly easy to confuse the two. But, in your profession, you are very-regularly confronted by people who are not at all like yourself, as you (in your own way) seek to minister to them. You can hone your songs against an "edge" that most of us will never encounter.

There have been threads before which "argued" this point, but I really do believe that a good songwriter needs to be a good fiction writer. You can start with "yourself," or with a real situation that really happened to you, or ... something that is "absolutely made-up." But you want to write in such a way that it connects with your audience. Whatever you intend "your audience" to be. To me, a good fiction writer is, foremost, a good storyteller. In a song, you don't have hundreds of pages to make your point. The lyrics of the world's great songs usually fit easily on one page. And yet, you won't "get it just-right the first time." Good writing is a lot harder than it looks.

I recently re-watched the great guitar documentary, "It Might Get Loud." One thing that I noticed was that ... they all turned on a tape recorder. "Grabbing an idea," and "turning it into a product," though, really are two separate things. "Intermingled, of course." Sometimes the pure-gold is in "take #45."

As I use the term, "deterministic" either means "pre-determined," or, "there's only one 'right' way and so that's what you should be trying to find." Geeks sometimes refer to "Tim Toady": TMTOWTDI = There's More Than One Way To Do It. Generally sage advice. But also in the case of music: They'll Never Know How You Did It. (Nor do they really want to know – they just don't know it yet.) So, when they ask, smile and make something up. And: Whatever you do, never throw away whatever you do. Because you never know when you'll "run out of ideas" only to discover "the perfect idea" in something you did weeks before, even if absolutely nothing came from it at the time. And last but not least: "FISI = 🤡 it! Ship it!" Put shrink-wrap on that sucker and call FedEx.

Lots of "famous fiction writers" (who should have remembered better ...) wrote plenty of books that basically told aspiring writers that the way to success was basically: "pantsing = by the seat of your pants." (Well, I guess they did know what they were doing, because they sold plenty of copies of those books – and lots of "writing workshops," besides.) Yes – absolutely – when the creative juices are flowing you must capture them. But, at the same time, "don't think that you're done." Also: "don't expect the angels to start singing." Fact is, you might manage to produce many "commercially-viable musical products" from your brainstorm, if you're lucky. Anyhow: The audiences who listen to your creations will actually be none the wiser. Please don't even suggest to them there is "a process." Don't tell them how the trick is done: just do the trick. I still like this lyric, which to me really does spell-out everything: "We are here now – en-ter-tain us." "If you're looking for 'affirmation,' stop looking." There is no "right" answer.

Walk up to Michelangelo's David and run your fingers over it. Here are three things that I promise you that you will never see: The slightest imperfection of texture, no matter where your fingers may roam. "Chisel marks." The slightest fleck of marble, upon the floor below. But now, "here's to the crafts(men)(women) who worked for Michelangelo! To the people who spent countless unsung hours patiently rubbing the stone with the finest of abrasives. And, yes, maybe to the ones who counseled the artist as to what to do, when the block of stone they'd bought from the quarry "presented them with a 'surprise!'" When we look upon this statue, or when we read a novel, or when we listen to a song ... as artists we must remember the process. We of all people must never delude ourselves into thinking ... the very thing that we're happy to tell "our legions of adoring fans!" That somehow it really was "magic," and not an endless series of decisions. That there was no such thing as "committee meetings!" "Editors." "Producers." "Publishers." That we really did know what "the platinum-record record" was going to be, when we first heard the notes being discovered on our instruments. Let's therefore remember that "creativity really is a craft." And that "the stuff that we produce" is the consequence of ... utterly-boring decisions that are of no interest whatsoever to our "countless fans." Yes, we should tell them what they want to hear. But – don't believe it. "Get to work!" And ... do not delete the original recording/MIDI of anything that you ever make.

I just want to write something that I'd like to listen to.

The best advice my organ teacher ever gave me was valuable only because I finally learned to ignore it: "Don't play by ear." It took me too-many years to un-learn that bit of advice – to regard the printed music as a guideline even when your purpose is to follow it exactly. Because, every time you play, "you are performing, if only for yourself."

This is very nice. When the instruments all came in at the very beginning of the song, they kinda clashed, but around 0:30 they seemed to have found their relative places. I think that this song would benefit from some additional mixing, to set (say ...) the piano as the lead instrument, the first violin behind it, the concertina in a steady fill/supporting role, second violin next, and synthesized everything-else filling in the remaining gaps. If you wanted another instrument (say, the concertina) to "take the lead" for a phrase, you could actually do this in the mix. Also consider the artful use of EQ. Many of these instruments occupy the same general area of the sonic spectrum, although they specialize in a few frequencies. You can use EQ to create "slots" so that other instruments don't step-on the one that you've designated to fill that slot. Even though two instruments are perhaps playing at similar volume, within the slot one instrument is attenuated so the others can be more clearly heard.

I guess I write songs because I just can't stop doing it. I'm still enticed by the pure magic of it ... especially with the basically-unlimited capability of the technology that we have at our fingertips today. (I subscribed to [Contemporary] Keyboard magazine, back when all of this computer-stuff was happening before our eyes, and I lusted after $100,000+ keyboards that don't do a fraction of what my Macintosh and 88-key controller does. And you never could have convinced me that I would own such a computer in my lifetime.) But – it's not just the toys. It truly is "music, itself." You can make magic. And there's always going to be something more to learn. But – maybe it is the toys. Because today you can move beyond your music lessons. You have a word processor for music. You aren't limited to your physical/mental abilities of "live performance." You're free. We live in interesting times.

When I watched musicians on documentaries like the excellent It Might Get Loud, I noticed that the musicians reflexively turned on a tape-recorder. Sometimes it was reel-to-reel(!), sometimes a phone, but when they sat down to "just noodle around," they always turned on the tape and left it running. I think that there are definitely two parts to songwriting: "inspiration, and perspiration." 😀 But, I'm actually serious. First you have to get the idea, and somehow stick a pin through that pretty little butterfly and attach it to a board. Then, you have to develop it into a song, or part of one. And that process might go through any number of "drafts," all of which you should keep, even if at the moment you're persuaded that they're just garbage (and even if they actually are). You're exploring your way to a final musical treatment of the material, and you might well come up with more than one. No matter what it is that I'm creating, one thing that is always beside me is a loose-leaf notebook and a set of number-two pencils. I keep a diary of sorts. I was going to say "I don't trust my memory," but I've forgotten where I intended to go with that. 😉