I’ve been thinking about almost the inverse problem lately. I've been really interested in how to make music progressively lose its ability to go anywhere at all. From where is this taking me to why am I no longer sure what “where” even means? The thought being that the listener can experience intentionality without the composer having encoded it into the piece.
I also think people who don't create music expect music to preserve journey as some sort of governing metaphor. As if it should 'make sense'. And that things should only happen to reveal themselves in service of having been part of the journey.
Reminds of a David Lynch quote actually...."I don't know why people expect art to make sense. They accept the fact that life doesn't make sense."
So kind of the intention behind the work being dislocated from the audiences/listeners perceived intention is really appealing to me. And the idea that meaning can derive from something inside us that connects with the work rather than being contained in the work itself.
Sampling is the most obvious example. It was going somewhere because it belonged to a piece with its own causal logic but you've now removed the thing it was intending towards. Then you repitch it, change the tempo, chop it up even more, rearrange it and place it beside another fragment to form a completely new logic. That's what i mean by dislocation. And the composer doesn't need to decide what that new logic means, the listener supplies the larger intentional structure. An example, and one of my favourite albums of all time - Entroducing by DJ Shadow. Try resampling one of your own finished tracks. Take something that knows where it's going and make it forget.
Once I had a dream in which I assembled a band to play Terry Riley's In C. My instrument was the claves. I just knocked one clave onto another. 50 minutes of even eighths. Being asked 'what for?' I answered 'to make all the questions disappeared'.
Now I see, this looked like a radical cure from 'going somewhere' with the music.
Haha, excellent dream. that's the sort of excitement level I'm looking for in my dreams.
You're right that the minimalists totally nailed this idea, the radical cure idea. Also, I've been thinking about how Steve Reich pieces often do "go somewhere," technically speaking, but in a slightly absurd way, e.g. the way clapping music travels in a circle back to the start.
Ian, may I invite you into a similar radical minimalist adventure? It won't take much of your time, but can bring a some refreshing creative fun, I seem.
(I accidentally hit the wrong key which inadvertently sent my previous comment. Continuing . . . )
I often wonder where the composition might have gone had I made a different decision, along the lines of Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken. Would the mood have gone in a different direction? Might the melody have been superior or the deleted counterpoint provided more tension? Maybe one of the millions of micro decisions would have led to a dead end or gone nowhere, to quote someone’s grandmother. Will I ever have the opportunity to go back and reset the stage to create a variation, sort of the equivalent to another tv episode or sequel of the same series; are we capable of going home again? The answers are largely unknowable. I can’t spend much time thinking about it now because I have to write the next smash hit and the Muse is impatient.
I do this nearly constantly. I re-write songs, I chop off the end and make a new one, I take part of a melody and amend it to a different one. In fact, I have an album coming out in December that’s largely old songs I totally ripped up and re-made — they’re so different now that most of them are entirely new. Others share a certain core element.
But I love it! I love seeing all the different places a single theme can go, and in instrumental music, it feels like the permission structure is there to do it, to be a little more playful with your ideas like that.
I just realized I also released an EP last November (“in cloudy states”) that’s four versions of the same song treated slightly differently, so it’s clearly a theme for me!
Where is your song going can imply something active or passive. In one scenario, the composer is hunched over the DAW or piano or violin carefully crafting the notes, editing an Eb to an E and then changing it back to the original Eb, making endless micro decisions about note intervals, tempo, instrument choice, volume, harmony, dissonance and all other aspects of the piece. In the other scenario, the composer is a mere vessel for notes seemingly spilling out of the ether with the composer’s role being nothing more than a dutiful scribe. I think we’ve all experienced both scenarios.
I go through the same process with writing. I used to plan what I wanted to say. Now I trust the writing to guide me in terms of what it wants to be and what it wants to say and where it wants to go.
I think sometimes we forget how seemingly still things are still moving. A tree is still growing. Your chest is moving up and down as you breathe. Synapses transport electric impulses from here to there. While stargazing the other night, we made long-exposition shots only to discover that 2 minutes is enough for the sky to MOVE. Or rather, for us to move, as we hurl through space. There's a flow to all things.
I like to think of songs as landscapes we enter as we listen. Sometimes, there are specific things happening there (a story, if you like). Sometimes, it's just birds flying over your head. Sometimes, the weather changes. Or maybe seemingly nothing changes - but after a while, you realize yourself in a different landscape. Or that you've changed.
I don't know where my songs are going, but the moment I enter the landscape, usually, a path appears in front of me - something I can follow to find what I'm looking for (even if I don't know yet what that is). And if not - maybe I need to sit for a while where I am, to find out which direction the call is coming from. Or maybe, while I sit, things will find me on their own...
I’ve been thinking about almost the inverse problem lately. I've been really interested in how to make music progressively lose its ability to go anywhere at all. From where is this taking me to why am I no longer sure what “where” even means? The thought being that the listener can experience intentionality without the composer having encoded it into the piece.
I also think people who don't create music expect music to preserve journey as some sort of governing metaphor. As if it should 'make sense'. And that things should only happen to reveal themselves in service of having been part of the journey.
Reminds of a David Lynch quote actually...."I don't know why people expect art to make sense. They accept the fact that life doesn't make sense."
So kind of the intention behind the work being dislocated from the audiences/listeners perceived intention is really appealing to me. And the idea that meaning can derive from something inside us that connects with the work rather than being contained in the work itself.
Ha! I love that. What a great prompt. Any music in that vein you can share? Would love to hear what the dislocation means to you.
Sampling is the most obvious example. It was going somewhere because it belonged to a piece with its own causal logic but you've now removed the thing it was intending towards. Then you repitch it, change the tempo, chop it up even more, rearrange it and place it beside another fragment to form a completely new logic. That's what i mean by dislocation. And the composer doesn't need to decide what that new logic means, the listener supplies the larger intentional structure. An example, and one of my favourite albums of all time - Entroducing by DJ Shadow. Try resampling one of your own finished tracks. Take something that knows where it's going and make it forget.
yeah, great call.
Once I had a dream in which I assembled a band to play Terry Riley's In C. My instrument was the claves. I just knocked one clave onto another. 50 minutes of even eighths. Being asked 'what for?' I answered 'to make all the questions disappeared'.
Now I see, this looked like a radical cure from 'going somewhere' with the music.
Haha, excellent dream. that's the sort of excitement level I'm looking for in my dreams.
You're right that the minimalists totally nailed this idea, the radical cure idea. Also, I've been thinking about how Steve Reich pieces often do "go somewhere," technically speaking, but in a slightly absurd way, e.g. the way clapping music travels in a circle back to the start.
Ian, may I invite you into a similar radical minimalist adventure? It won't take much of your time, but can bring a some refreshing creative fun, I seem.
what did you have in mind?
I’ll send you dm a bit later
(I accidentally hit the wrong key which inadvertently sent my previous comment. Continuing . . . )
I often wonder where the composition might have gone had I made a different decision, along the lines of Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken. Would the mood have gone in a different direction? Might the melody have been superior or the deleted counterpoint provided more tension? Maybe one of the millions of micro decisions would have led to a dead end or gone nowhere, to quote someone’s grandmother. Will I ever have the opportunity to go back and reset the stage to create a variation, sort of the equivalent to another tv episode or sequel of the same series; are we capable of going home again? The answers are largely unknowable. I can’t spend much time thinking about it now because I have to write the next smash hit and the Muse is impatient.
Thanks for sharing and raising the topic.
I do this nearly constantly. I re-write songs, I chop off the end and make a new one, I take part of a melody and amend it to a different one. In fact, I have an album coming out in December that’s largely old songs I totally ripped up and re-made — they’re so different now that most of them are entirely new. Others share a certain core element.
But I love it! I love seeing all the different places a single theme can go, and in instrumental music, it feels like the permission structure is there to do it, to be a little more playful with your ideas like that.
I just realized I also released an EP last November (“in cloudy states”) that’s four versions of the same song treated slightly differently, so it’s clearly a theme for me!
Where is your song going can imply something active or passive. In one scenario, the composer is hunched over the DAW or piano or violin carefully crafting the notes, editing an Eb to an E and then changing it back to the original Eb, making endless micro decisions about note intervals, tempo, instrument choice, volume, harmony, dissonance and all other aspects of the piece. In the other scenario, the composer is a mere vessel for notes seemingly spilling out of the ether with the composer’s role being nothing more than a dutiful scribe. I think we’ve all experienced both scenarios.
Loved this, Ian.
I go through the same process with writing. I used to plan what I wanted to say. Now I trust the writing to guide me in terms of what it wants to be and what it wants to say and where it wants to go.
Your friend Kiefer is a wise dude!
I think sometimes we forget how seemingly still things are still moving. A tree is still growing. Your chest is moving up and down as you breathe. Synapses transport electric impulses from here to there. While stargazing the other night, we made long-exposition shots only to discover that 2 minutes is enough for the sky to MOVE. Or rather, for us to move, as we hurl through space. There's a flow to all things.
I like to think of songs as landscapes we enter as we listen. Sometimes, there are specific things happening there (a story, if you like). Sometimes, it's just birds flying over your head. Sometimes, the weather changes. Or maybe seemingly nothing changes - but after a while, you realize yourself in a different landscape. Or that you've changed.
I don't know where my songs are going, but the moment I enter the landscape, usually, a path appears in front of me - something I can follow to find what I'm looking for (even if I don't know yet what that is). And if not - maybe I need to sit for a while where I am, to find out which direction the call is coming from. Or maybe, while I sit, things will find me on their own...
Good luck with your track :)