I don’t consider myself a huge fan of DMB — at least not any more.  That said, two early albums, Under the Table and Dreaming and Crash, are among my all-time favorite albums.  And I have seen them in concert a couple of times.  Unfortunately they lost me after that, but Dave Matthew’s acoustic guitar antics and the unique sound of DMB left big impressions on me.

I must admit that I am not a big fan of saxophones, particularly in rock music.  I can’t tell you exactly why, but I grimace most of the time when they come on, and at best tolerate them — sax on some of Pink Floyd’s tunes are OK — with two notable exceptions: DMB and Morphine.  Of the two, I discovered DMB earlier, and Leroi totally changed my opinion on what sax can do in rock music.  Not just in improvised solos, but to me his major contributions are in the areas of riffs and textures — particularly, I loved his bari sax stuff on Crash.  I can see the low bari punch extending into heavy metal arena — one of the experiments I’d like to try in my music.

Though I am not into DMB’s more recent material, I’ve always admired them for their band chemistry and the way they conducted business — they and U2 remain role models for me in that regard.

Rest in peace Leroi — I’ll look you up on the Other Side.  I hope we can jam.

It’s Will’s own chronicle of his journey to discover the secret of songwriting, and in the course of his exploration, he uses his position as journalist to go talk to a host of British luminaries, from Keith Richards to Ray Davies. I’m only half way, but so far it’s been very readable and enjoyable.

Having started writing songs at age 18, I forget what it’s like to marvel at other people’s songs and wonder “how does anyone do that?” I say that about someone’s singing or playing, but not often with writing. I don’t mean to sound cocky, but most of the times when I hear a good song, what I say to myself is “oh yeah, I can do that.” There have been few times in my popular music journey where I went “wow — there’s no way I can write that in a million years.” The most recent was The Mars Volta. Classical music is a different story — I don’t listen to Beethoven’s Fifth and think I can write something as good. But with pop music, I very seldom felt that the heights of those considered the best were a plateau out of my reach. Whether anyone agrees with me is a different story, but that particular belief is one of the major decisions why I haven’t stopped pursuing music.

That’s not to say that I don’t write stuff that are not fit for public consumption. I write plenty of banal, generic, awful music. But so did Lennon-McCartney. We are judged by the number and consistency of our best material — they have the power to make people forget all the fillers we put out in between. The trouble with songs, though, is that the strength of writing cannot be understood unless performance and production (if recorded) do it justice. Unlike film scripts which are still gripping read even if it’s simply read in that format, a song cannot reveal its full girth until the actors and the cameramen do at least a competent enough job. That’s the area where I’m still slowly developing, though with Aries9’s first album I felt that I’ve reached a point where my own skills in those areas have finally reached a competent level.

Of course, I’m aware that if writing is my primary muse, I could have found other people to perform my songs. The thought wasn’t lost on my mind, but there are problems with that plan. The majority of my songs fall in genres where artists traditionally write their own material, instead of using songwriters to supply songs. Where that is true is primarily Nashville-based industry of country and related genres, and I am simply not a country songwriter. The other problem is that the primary reason anyone would outsource songwriting is to produce hits. While I think some of my songs are fully deserving of becoming hits on radio, my primary muse of songwriting has always been that of establishing unique style. Like Radiohead or Tori Amos, my material builds an overall impression from a collection, and picking any single song to give it to someone as an ingredient in their piece-meal effort has never appealed to me.

The bottom line is that I’ve never been all that interested in giving my songs to others. It’d be different if I’d written the song with the intention to suit someone else’s needs. I can do that but it has to be for a specific person commissioning me to write a song for him/her. Otherwise, I would rather try to figure out how to make my life work with my own quarky set of songs to satisfy my own muse than try to play the game of the industry by supplying songs that are designed to meet their demands. My art is my business, sure, but so far I’ve chosen not to sell my writing itself, but to sell what I’ve written.

I’m in this business because I enjoy creating. Last night I was up until 1am writing a song. Whether I make money or become famous is, beside the point. I’m already doing what I love to do, and nothing can take that away from me.

It’s a great sign when I wake up in the morning and can still sing the tunes I wrote last night.

Starting a song is a bit like catching butterflies, or any other wild bug/animal. You just don’t know when it strikes you. I start more songs doing something other than playing my guitar. It usually comes to me when I’m humming while doing dishes or cleaning the house, which was exactly what I was doing last night when the phrase “balloon boy, balloon boy” popped into my head.

I stopped what I was doing and grabbed my guitar and my Macbook. It was a melody that came to me, so I tried to figure out the chords to it — which is a bit of a dangerous step. If it’s a melody I’m humming, I should just capture that first, and then figure out chords to it. Last night I didn’t do that, and I lost part of the melody. It’s as if my memory function gets turned off when I’m in the song-receiving mode. When the antenna is up and receiving signal, it just doesn’t have enough resources to also remember it. As soon as my thought drifts off somewhere, it’s gone.

Usually what I capture is not the initial inspiration, but a “patternized” version of it. I remember bits and pieces and structure them into phrases. They never seem as good as the original improvisation I hummed, but nevertheless most of my songs were born that way and most of them turn out to be very good, so I guess I’ve learned to accept that compromise. The original usually has more variations, though, not as repetitive.

Now that I’m heavier into blogging, I can’t help but see parallels between writing songs and writing words (which I do as a part of songwriting, too). The initial inspiration plants the seed. What I started last night were drafts. My songs usually come to me in the form of verse and chorus — so later I add intros and outros and bridge, then figure out what the songs have to say lyrically. That part is harder, just as structuring and finishing a cohesive piece of writing is more “work” than fun — though it’s a necessary part of seeing the final product, finished and presentable pieces that I can finally feel proud of.

I must say, I’m very excited about my business plan, which allows me to freely express the entire range of my writing. Aries9 is my first love, but Aries9 is also the most ambitious and has very rigorous standards attached to it, in terms of originality and excellence. I would reject most common chord progressions when it comes to an Aries9 song.

But my other “projects” are more relaxed, and I let myself write more conventional songs — titles after a line in a chorus, standard verse-chorus structures, and chords you may have heard before. They are still great songs, mind you. But they don’t need to push the envelopes, at least not as hard.

I can’t wait to share more of my songs with you!

Anyway, the organizer of this blog advised to put up a little post to guide the new visitors from that event to welcome them and point them to the best stuff.

So here I am.  Welcome new visitors!

This blog is, I must admit, a bit of a mess.  Not executed very well, because I started without a clear vision.  Well, it’s an artist/musician blog.  My primary purpose of this web site is sell my music and sign people up to my email list.  But I didn’t have a slightest idea how to use this blog for that purpose.  So I put up a lot of unfocused, meandering content, with a simple aim to just let readers get to know me.

But recently, things have been changing.  I’m starting to put together a new vision.  One that combines what I have to offer to the world much better than any previous plans.  One I believe in so strongly, that I can smell, taste and see the fruition of that vision.  The only thing missing, is that it hasn’t happened in reality yet.

A portion of that vision is outlined here: I Have Grand Visions and I Am Boldly Proclaiming Them

Right now I am focused on preparing myself for the start of the pursuit.  So this blog is going to remain a bit random.  Like this last week, I wrote a music review, to see how that feels and works.  I’ve commented on the state of the music industry.  Or discussed what went behind my music.

New visitors, if you read this far, the only thing I ask of you is to check back.  Not too soon — probably not tomorrow or the next day.  But do keep in mind, that you came across this rock musician who seemed uncharacteristically verbose, talking about his ambitions.  And look me up again, to see where I am with that.

Oh, and I almost forgot — do listen to the music.  If you like it, download some songs, buy a CD or sign up to the newsletter.

Thank you.

It uses Ajax to find songs you’re looking for, load it and play it for you. You can make play lists of the songs you found.

I just did a search on Tool — I could find the entire Latelarus album, create a play list with the same song sequence as the album. Amazing album. I’ve been meaning to spend more time with Tool — I heard their earlier material but never got them. Now I do.

The challenge with Tool is that they don’t distribute their music with any digital services, at least the last time I checked. I used to be a Napster and Rhapsody user, but they were nowhere to be found there. They’re not on iTunes, either. The same thing with King Crimson.

The challenge with these bands (that make challenging music ) is that a 30-second excerpt really doesn’t give me enough of a glimpse of their extended and complex music so that I can gauge whether I like their music.

I don’t know where MixTurtle finds music. I don’t know whether the sources are legal or not. But somewhere on the web, somebody is posting playable full-song file of these music. And now it can be found and played.

Think about it. This web site, a mobile broadband internet, and a mobile internet device like iPhone — and you now have access to any music out there, for free.

It’s been said before, but here’s another sign that those of us in the music industry have to think of a new business model. If you make and release recorded music, it will find a way to get distributed. To fight this tide of time is to miss out on new opportunities that are coming up.

Change is neither good nor bad by itself. You can make it either. If you’re used to the old way of doing things, then this change is uncomfortable, to say the least. If you are refusing to change, then that may mean your activity becomes unsustainable.

But there are opportunities, too.

One thing is for sure. Consumers always want to win. So having access to music freely is a win for consumers. I am a listener and appreciator of fine music myself. I like having the free access.

But if the consumer wins so completely that it makes producing of fine music unsustainable, then consumer loses, too. And consumers know this. They are not dumb.

As always, you start with making unique music. And you go find your audience — they are out there, the world is big enough for any well-executed music. And the artist and fans together find the way to make the producing of that music that they love sustainable.

On the other hand — I really long to discover an act that personifies the same brutal anger that SOAD does, without being cartoony.  This is also a problem with most other metal bands, including In Flames, who, along with SOAD, are so brilliant I can’t begin to describe their genius.

Metal bands with their chainsaw voices and cookie-monster gravel, can sound so caricaturized.  It’s one thing if they mix it with clean vocals and reserve the hoarse stuff for the key points — but most of bands, that’s all they do.  It may have an impact at first, but soon you get numb to their anger.  And to me, this compromises the weight of their emotion.  It can sound juvenile, shallow, though SOAD and In Flames are the ones that escape that trap most of the time.  Most other metal bands don’t.

The flip side of this is that I want to be just as articulate and brutal as SOAD in my angriest of songs.  Except I can’t do death metal screams.

Screaming isn’t the only way to express anger.  Sometimes, a whisper can give you more chills than blood-curdling scream.   Just like the best of horror movies are the ones that don’t show the fearsome monster or gory violence.  There must be a way to use restraint and minimalism, so that I can unleash one fierce note and cut through like a over-sharpened knife.  A way to express the desperate anger without walking up to within an inch of someone’s face and yelling into oblivion. This is a territory I want to explore more — try to see if I can incorporate into my own music.

Anybody know an act that can do this?  Be bone-chillingly angry without screaming?  Please let me know.

Since graduation, we had spoken once over the phone during college.  Considering that, we enjoyed a great conversation — it was amazing how we still related to each other after all these years.  It appeared that although we don’t live close to one another and have had totally different life experiences for the last 16 years, the core of our personalities, the part where we connected, remained.

He and I were discussing how we have changed, and he was commenting on how it appeared as though I hadn’t changed much.  (I had sent him a photo of my family via e-mail earlier.)  I agreed with him that I probably don’t look all that different — if it weren’t for my increasing grey hair, I can still pass for a college student. I went on to explain to him that I really haven’t changed that much.  I’m still a teeanger who loves rock guitar.  If you see me driving, I’m singing along to some CD loudly.  If you leave me alone in a room, I’d turn up music loud and start mimicing Steve Taylor-esque mic stand antics.  (I’m not into air guitar, since I’m a real guitar player.  It feels silly to me to air guitar when I can really play it)

Really, my love of music has totally unchanged.  Before, I thought that with maturity I would “slow down” and stop listening to hard, heavy, aggressive music.  No such change — if anything, I can apprecite even heavier music now.  The range of my music appreciation has widened and deepened — I can like some music I didn’t like before, while some juvenile-sounding music no longer works for me — but really, I still love music.  All I need to do is to pick up my guitar and start belting out some songs, and I’m in seventh heaven.  Nothing else gives me the energy I get from music.

I’m in my mid 30s, but I really am not the person I thought I would be at my age.  I still feel very young, and that I have a lot more growing up to do.

If you think about it, rock musicians are expected to mature young — in their 20s.  I can’t think of an artist that became wildly successful even though they didn’t debut until mid 30s.  Maybe Doug Pinnick of King’s X — though I won’t consider them to be “wildly successful” commercially.  Of course, commercial success isn’t the only definition of real success — and that’s not the point of this post.  Rock musicians are expected to get their acts together at young age, although the music itself can suggest decadence and chaos, and similar traits in their life style.  It’s a bit of contradiction.

But in other genres of music, musicians are not expected to mature until much later.  For example, human voice actually doesn’t fully mature until mid 30s.  Opera singers in 20s have to wait for their voices to mature before they begin the serious part of their career.  Classical composers in their 20s or even 30s are considered “just getting started.”  They are not expected to write their masterpieces until 50s or 60s.

Of course, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what the world thinks is the appropriate age to be doing certain kinds of music.  My youthful passion in rock music has unchanged since age 16, and has no signs to do so.

I really believe that our “real” age — not the physical age of how long we’ve been living but the true age of our being — is more based on how we feel inside.  That’s why Rolling Stones and B. B. King and John Williams (the film composer) can keep going in their old age.  Sure, their physical bodies are starting to show its limits, but they’ve been able to sustain their activity much longer than most people at their age.  Rock n roll keep people young longer.  They should market it as an anti-aging treatment.

I’m not saying I haven’t changed at all since graduating high school.  I grew up a lot.  I, for one, would never go back to any previuos eras in my life.  I like me of today better — I’ve kept the good parts and got rid of the bad.  And my love of music has stayed with me the whole time.  I’ve tried to live ignoring it.  But every time I pick up my guitar, or every time I open my mouth to sing, I have a melt down.  It simply feels too good, too energizing not to do it.

I don’t expect to be playing “Diamond Sleeps Tonight” at age 80.  But who knows, I may surprise myself, as I have so far.  I may not be getting younger, but my youth remains.  I’m still the same kid who is in love with rock n roll.

Fading out a song at the end.

There are millions of ways to begin a song. The most common way is to play a riff or the main chord progression — sometimes with just a guitar, sometimes full band. The Beatles turned listeners’ heads when they wrote a song that started with a chorus, right off the bat. Now it doesn’t seem so surprising.

Similarly, there are millions of creative ways to end a song. Repeating the chorus and fading out is pure laziness. The only time where fading out is called for is when that effect actually has a significance. It creates a sense of the continuity, the song doesn’t end, it just trails off…. And yes, I can see that in some places. I would probably do that with some of my songs.

But probably very few.

The other problem of fading out is playing the song live. A lot of times, musicians have help fro producers in stage to arrange the songs — but not for playing live. So a lot of the faded-out songs have really dumb endings live. It just destroys the feeling of the song. You just can’t repeat the chorus 3 times and hit the root chord at the end. You have to properly write endings to make them work.

Like my previous rant on song titles, I just think it’s a missed opportunity. A song creates only a finite space for creativity. You owe it to the song to work it to its maximum capacity (without overdoing it).

We can write brilliant melodies and riffs in a flash. But songwriting is a hard work. Laziness is our enemy.

What did I listen to?  King’s X’s “Tape Head,” Midnight Oil’s “Capricornia,” Patty Griffin’s “1000 Kisses,” Will Harrison’s “A Place Called Home.”

In that order.

Why?

Because I went progressively from urban to rural.  My sound track had to reflect that. I went from rock to folk.  Upbeat to mellow.

Call me lunatic. 

Anyway, it got me thinking about how music can serve very specific purposes in life.  The omnipresent “Happy Birthday” song is a good example.  There are music for weddings, graduations, and funerals.  Church music, disco, drinking songs.  Make music with occasions in mind, and if you do it well, your music will be used for that purpose.

Listening is not the only way to appreciate music, apparently.

To me, this function of music is kind of lost for art rockers.  We’re supposed to make “art.”  Create an expression of our artistic vision — which usually serves no specific purpose or occasion. Doing so is probably a bit of sell-out.  Art isn’t really art, if it’s made primarily to have specific functions.

Wait a minute.  That can’t be true, can it?

There are all kinds of art serving life’s funtions and occasions.  Go to an artisan architecture or pottery.  Are quilts made to be put on a wall, or put over a bed, with someone sleeping on it?

If you put together a song with specific purposes, and do it well, that song will have a life beyond just being listened to.  If you put together an album that centers around a particular set of situations, like a road trip, you’ll have a whole collection of songs that can accompany that function.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.  One of the original functions of music was to be dance accompaniment for tribal rituals.  Music serving function is actually truer to its roots than these music “for listening pleasure.”

I, myself, enjoy writing with a purpose in mind.  Songs of Love projects worked that way for me, as did my film music.  I’m going to try extending that to other genres — though maybe outside of Aries9’s range.

I have my eyes set on that birthday song, in particular.  Can I topple it from its throne?  No, not a chance.  But the Beatles were the only guys who came close to offering an alternative.  Maybe the 3rd-place slot is still open.

Definitely something to aspire to, don’t you think?  If you’re gonna dream, you gotta dream big.

And in the conversation, I realized that there’s a huge common ground between job hunting and promoting a band.

It’s all about identity.

When you’re promoting a band, it’s crucial to define who you are and what your music is.  You need to have a concise, clear way of describing your identity as a band.  You want all the promotional material to reflect that identity — from band photos to bios to web sites.  If you’re a glorified garage rock band, then you’d naturally want a sense of trashiness in your presentation.  A hushed, quiet folk music, a sense of earth and tranquility.

This is also true about job hunting.

When you’re looking for a job, you’re not just trying to find a job that you qualify for and then show the interviewers how your qualifications match the job listings.

You can get a job doing just that, but that’s a crap shoot.  You’re just waiting to be lucky.

What you have to do is to clearly define who you are, and look for a company that looks like they can use someone like you.  And this is more about culture than specific qualifications.  Different kinds of people work in different industries.  Advertising agencies are filled with Type-A go-getters, they are casual and slick and trendy.  IT tends to be very analytical, confident yet competitive.  I’m overgeneralizing here, but in general this is true.

I myself have had multiple stints in publishing industry and non-profit arts organizations.  Why?  Those industries tend to attract people like me.  I would think I’d fit well in higher-education institutions, too, though somehow I never had a chance to verify that, so I might have been wrong.

My friend is an IT professional, but he told me about how he doesn’t like a lot of IT guys he meets.  It’s very macho and competitive, and while very smart, they can come across condescending and arrogant — even to their customers!  He felt that he was different.  He loves helping people solve their computer problems.  He’s great at explaining technical concepts to people who are not savvy.  I could tell that the helping was the part that drove him to do his job — not the technical knowledge.

When I looked at his resume, though, what he had on there didn’t tell me what he just told me.  So I told him to put that in at the top, nice and bold.

“I’m an IT tech who’s not an asshole.”

While people like my friend may be minority among IT guys, there are companies who would love to hire him.  He himself identified that he felt more comfortable in non-profit, healthcare or higher-education institutes.  (see why he and I are friends?)  He’d be a well-appreciated IT guy in a non-IT industry, where people care about helping other people.

I’m convinced that with this new realization about who he is and where he fits in, he can go and find a great job, sooner rather than later.

You see how the process went:

1. Figure out who you are.
2. Articulate it in presentation.
3. Send that to places where like-minded people congregate.

This is exactly the same, between job hunting and promoting a band.  I imagine, it’s the same, too, if you’re looking for a romantic relationship, or any friends.

We have to first know ourselves, then figure out how to tell others about who we are, before finding like-minded people.  Once you realize this, then you can get better at doing this.

Everything starts with your identity.  Be sure to start close to home.