Category Archives: criticism - Page 2

groovin’

Posted by on October 2, 2009 No comments

We abandoned The National Parks on PBS. It was wrecking the routine of the house and with a resident two year old, that’s a non-starter. It’s a brilliant film (so far) and I maintain that Ken Burns is a brilliant documentary film maker. We’ll just have to pick it up later so that we can have some sanity around bed time.

Which we promptly did not get last night. Instead of going to sleep like a good little boy, he screamed and followed me into my studio. I got the message after a few minutes that recording wasn’t going to be an option so I went with a little listening, editing, and writing. I turned the lights down and wrote in one of my journals for a while. Mostly some admirable attempts at awful poetry. Writing helps me listen.

There are nine tracks that are awfully tasty, in my opinion. I’ll try to add two more (if they fit) and then master it up. Release still looks like November, but I would really like to move it up. I’m proud of this collection. It feels good to say that.

lines

I’m reading a lot of blogs by creative people and most of them are making the same mistake. At the end of a post they’ll pull the old Slashdot routine of “how do you handle this problem?” It’s a way to prompt a discussion and I get that, but I don’t know that the forum is quite right. Blog comments are great but I think that for the most part people are writing in the style of Op-Ed journalism or something more personal that might not be the greatest start for a discussion. My only evidence for that is the number of “really great article! Keep it up!” comments I see. I guess I haven’t closed comments here for the couple of dozen readers so perhaps I should let it go?

There are also things I’m not reading any more. I love and hate Merlin Mann. That said, he has posted some things lately that are dead on. He mentioned that every minute spent reading a site about productivity or trying out a TODO application is time that could have been spent getting something done. So-called “productivity porn” is getting out of hand. I’m done with it. If I am going to waste time online it will be on the good stuff and not learning what the latest notecard hack is. Freaks.

Vacation is over and I’m back on track. Music soon.

The War of Art

Posted by on August 3, 2009 No comments

I’ve said before that I really don’t like books about creativity that are supposed to help me unleash my inner genius and demolish writer’s block and all that jazz. The last time I mentioned one here my take on it was less than favorable. That said, I came across a reference to The War of Art by Steven Pressfield on Get Rich Slowly (enough links there?) I was motivated to at least look at it. I’m really glad that I did.

My take on doing creative work has always been “shut up and do it.” That is to say, talk less and do more. For every moment spent talking about an idea a moment that could have been used executing it is lost forever. I’ve known (and been) so many who love to talk about being an artist but have no interest in buckling down to do the work. There is a passion for talking about art yet actually sitting down and producing something seems to somehow get lost in the shuffle and discussion of the creative process and all of the wonderful ideas that one has floating around in the ether.

Generally, I find these tomes on creative production counterproductive because they give the reader an excuse not to start the work right now. “I can do it after I devour the inspiration that is bound to be in these pages!” Or, as often as not, the reader can pick up another book that may hold the same promise. This doesn’t serve the truly creative person who might really have a problem or be stuck and instead panders to the wannabes. Those people who will never actually follow through.

So how is The War of Art different? Well, first of all, the book is divided into three sections. The chapters in each section are about a page long. It’s all very concise. I could pick it up and put it down quickly. I can see myself opening it in a panic for a quick slap to the face without having to lose more time to it than is absolutely necessary. A shot in the arm should be quick and painful. The War of Art provides just that.

The text itself is not flowery. Pressfield gets to the point. It’s as though he knows that he only has a few moments to get something across to the reader and push her out the door and onto the next phase of her creative existence. I greatly appreciate this. I don’t need a history of something and a dozen case studies of artists I have never heard of. I want someone to talk to me about me and what I’m experiencing to get the process moving again. My time is valuable and the author understands.

Finally, my favorite thing about this book is the simple fact that everything in there is something that I already knew but that Pressfield took the time to put down on paper for me. I know that the only way to get something done is to do it. I know that fame and fortune are the worst motivation to take on any creative endeavor. I know that resistance lurks around every corner and that it is so much easier to make an excuse than it is to do something. I know all of this! But sitting down and reading it in the chunks he has broken these simple facts down into makes it infinitely more potent and pulls all of my attention to the real problem at hand.

I’m a person who has a seasonal creative block. I would like to think that the occasional innoculation from this book will keep that away or at least minimize the damage. If you’re the kind of person who needs kid gloves and coddling, this book is not for you. If you think you’re the kind of person who needs that coddling, you’re probably not. Life’s tough, wear a helmet. And read this book.

I don’t participate in revenue generating links. Feel free to click and know in your heart that I won’t get paid.

a fascinating experiment

Posted by on July 30, 2009 1 comment

Occasionally there’s a story on one of the podcasts that I track that kicks off a train of thought that is truly enjoyable. Many times it’s something silly that I find academically amusing and it passes the time on my bike or driving home from work. Yesterday was one of those and it’s something that might have a little more meat than I initially thought.

First, a bit about my podcast habit. I go in cycles with them and if I get interrupted by an audio book it can be months before I get around to the backlog. With that in mind, the podcast in question was a Studio 360 podcast from April 17, 2009 that pulled me in. The story is pretty simple and you’ll get much more by listening to it in its entirety, but here are the important bits as I see it: Sufjan Stevens had a contest. The winner got an unreleased song. Not just a recording of it, but the distribution rights. The whole enchilada. The winner was a guy about my age in Brooklyn and he decided that rather than tossing an mp3 out onto the Internet, he would invite people over for tea to listen to it in person. A little listening party in an intimate setting for this lonely song.

Full disclosure: I’m not a Sufjan Stevens fan. I wouldn’t be able to name one of his songs and probably wouldn’t recognize one if I heard it. But I have tried applying this scenario to artists whom I appreciate deeply and I’m pretty sure I get it.

In the story it is mentioned that many fans are upset by this and much is made of the digital divide and the age of said fans. The implication is that people in their 20s feel entitled to all things that can be copied digitally and people in their 30s don’t. I don’t find much to pick through in that argument. Overgeneralizing about generations is best left to those pathetic baby boomers still listening to Springsteen in their midlife crisis sports cars. What was I saying? Generations. Right!

Where I find something of value is in the push and pull between can and should and must. The implication of the fans who haven’t heard the song (because let’s just say they don’t live in New York) is that because something is so easily duplicated and distributed that it should be made available. But why? When U2 or Sufjan Stevens put a song on the iTunes store, it’s to get paid. They could give away their music a la Nine Inch Nails and so many others, but instead people are happy to click and drop a dollar in the cup for their song. What would the argument be if the winner of the contest sold copies of the song? Would that be seen as a slap in the face to the artist? Would people scream out about it? Owning a recording is such a tricky thing and this scenario is not so simple as to be about turning a buck.

And what of that ownership? Do we chafe at it because it’s an item that requires almost no effort to reproduce and distribute? Is there something inherent in a recording that suggests that can leads to should and on to must? I shrug off the notion that this is a beautiful and unique snowflake of a recording that everyone must hear. Wonderful performances happen every day that are lost to the air. Plenty of brilliant work is lost at the bottom of a library of mp3s never to be heard again by the person who purchased them. I also have to reject the idea that because this format is easier to copy than a painting that it should be copied. These are all fun ideas to chase.

Yet, none of those threads have brought me nearly the entertainment of trying to puzzle out what Mr. Stevens intended. He wrote and recorded a song as he has done many times (I presume). Then he gave it away. But not to the world. He gave the power of distribution to one person. I wonder if he is amused by the outcome. If it causes any small amount of angst on his part, the gnashing of teeth in his forums. It strikes me that the real art here is the performance of the fans as they struggle to get their hands on a artificially scarce piece of art and the acts of those who posess it and dole it out with such intimate delicacy. I can’t imagine that Mr. Stevens would have predicted this particular outcome. Perhaps that is the beauty of it. He didn’t know what was going to happen and something that I would call truly surprising did. It’s out of the best case scenario section of the John Cage handbook.

If I were a real blogger, I would ask my non-existent audience to discuss what they think about the rights of fans in the digital age or some other straw man to improve the ad revenue that I don’t have. Instead, I will offer that Mr. Stevens has started quite a game. He has produced an act of art the point of which will be missed by most of those who play a part in it. There are no implications about ownership here. There’s no new territory about “P2P” or “DRM” or “BuzzAcronymOfTheWeek.” I think it’s more subtle. And perhaps I’m missing it myself, but it’s fun to think about at the very least. I would have to call this creative act a success.

a little navel gazing

Posted by on January 26, 2009 No comments

i listen to a lot of podcasts. why? because i live in houston which means that i have to drive 45 minutes to get to work and another 45 minutes to get home. this is because the city is a complete cluster to navigate. you could live 10 miles from work and it would still take 45 minutes because the surface streets don’t allow for easy passage. for me it’s 45 minutes of zipping down the freeway/tollway. with that much time in the car, my music collection gets stale so the best solution is to make a playlist of podcasts. it’s like making my own little radio station. this pleases me greatly.

one of the podcasts that i listen to is the interview features podcast from echoes.org. these are the artist interviews with various producers of heavy gauge new age stuff. to be honest, part of the reason i enjoy it so much is because it makes me laugh.

now anyone who has spent any time with me knows that i am a seriously pretentious dude. i went to a conservatory. i used to wear all black and have long hair. for years i sat in a tiny room writing art music that the unwashed masses just wouldn’t understand. when it comes to pretension, i am a master of the craft. but i understand it. i’m aware of it. i’m amused by it and i do my best to amuse those around me with it.

that said, what i find so compelling about this podcast is partly in the voice of kimberly haas. her voice is the voice of your college girlfriend’s roommate. you know the one, the art major who is just one tenth of one percent too hip for you. this may sound mean, but it’s not. every time i hear her voice i flash back to college and i’m falling over myself to get a cappuccino and my free jazz collection. it brings a smile to my face.

the other thing that draws me to it is what started me writing tonight. i just finished up messing around with something that is completely arrhythmic, atonal, and really a timbre experiment. it is unrepentantly static but constantly shifting. nothing stands still, but it doesn’t go anywhere either. imagine watching the oily rainbow in a puddle on the sidewalk with its colors moving like some kind of laconic amoeba. it’s like that only with sound. and no bad similes. it sounds almost like something you’d hear on echoes. almost. what’s the difference? well, this is where it gets a little harsh.

the difference is that it isn’t boring. most of the music that i pick up as a result of these interviews that i hear (and thank goodness for emusic so i don’t have to drop iTunes money on the albums) are actively boring. what i mean by that is the music is trying so hard to make me not listen that it’s distracting. i catch myself locked in a war with the music: i’m trying to focus on any development of themes or shifting of rhythms and it is bound and determined to make my eyes glaze over and drive my mind to thinking about composting or when the last time i changed the oil in my car was.

i should blame myself, but i don’t.

maybe this is music that isn’t meant to be heard. maybe it’s part of a deeper experience that i just don’t get. but i have a pretty decent musical education and all of the comparisons to arvo pärt make me think that they do intend for people to listen to it and believe in it. but pärt they ain’t. or they don’t get pärt and that i can forgive.

why all this ink? because i’m sitting here, listening to this piece that goes nowhere, fascinated with it and wondering. and i’m thinking about those interviews.

the composers and musicians that are featured go into such deep detail about their creative process and their history with the music. each one tries to be ever so much more unique than all of the other composers of similar tunage that i find myself breaking into a smile. i would love to sit down and simply ask, “really? you found some old recordings of a factory fan and decided that it would be the basis for 5 concept albums?” because that’s how it comes across. this guy is trying to sell me on the idea that a 30 year old accident of a tape was worthy of spinning off into 5 albums worth of loops that sound more like the last than the next. the snippets that are played behind the interviews make me giggle. again, not being mean here, simply wondering if people think about the things that they say when put in front of a microphone.

i will own up to being that bad. i was interviewed when i was in school about a piece that i wrote which was performed by a rather prestigious ensemble. the title of the work was “the mirror for string orchestra.” a critic grilled me over the title and its significance. i tried to spin it and in the end he simply told me, “i don’t hear that at all.” and he was right. i was busted. two things happened that day. first, i gave up laying down overly creative and deep explanations of my work and secondly, i stopped titling my pieces. the titles i give to songs now are often the first couple of words i think of when i’m done mixing. that helps me avoid some of the more painful explanations.

this might be my longest post here in the history of othertime. it’s funny how a 7 minute interview piece can really set me off.

now i need to get back to mixing up my art music. it’s an exploration of the greater oversoul of the world wide web and an ode to my sister-in-law’s long dead hamster. not that i expect you to understand.

reading: the creative habit

Posted by on January 16, 2009 1 comment

i just finished twyla tharp’s the creative habit and sady i’m just not feeling it. i should be fair and say that, for the record, i don’t much care for books about creativity and how to improve one’s process. most of the books by big names don’t actually give solid tips and pointers but instead focus on how the author works. from time to time there is a nugget of wisdom tucked away in there that makes for a useful addition to one’s creative tool chest but more often than not it’s a collection of personal quirks that seem to work for the person talking about it. something like…

did you know that when i sit down to compose i make sure that my coffee mug is to my left so that i have maximum movement available to my right hand with which i hold my pen? did you care? will that help you?

another fine point is that talking about the creative process generally sucks. it’s all about telling other people about how you work. creative processes are very personal and no creative person really cares about any one else’s more than talking about his own. what i’m trying to say is that when someone brings up the topic of the creative process it’s to allow that person to go on and on about their personal method. and that is pretty sucky conversation material. it’s more like dueling monologues.

i know that the intent of these books and the reason that people buy them is to find that one little trick that can be transferred as if a way of doing creative work could really be stolen. i liken this to the GTD method of organizing tasks. at the end of the day you can use all of the note cards and folder tricks in the world but it all boils down to “do the work.” don’t make excuses. don’t copy someone else’s rituals. simply start where you need to start and end when you’re done.

the master luthier wayne henderson says that he builds a guitar by taking some wood and carving away the parts that aren’t a guitar. that? that’s a great discussion of a creative process. he does the work. does it get simpler than that?

the creative habit isn’t a bad example of creativity books. it feels to me like all of the others. maybe i’m put off by the discussion of famous people. or that the examples in the book are recycled so frequently. yes, we all know that mozart and bach were geniuses. great. leonardo was cool too. the half-hearted attempts to make the book relevant to the business types who read this kind of book to gain an edge and get out of their well worn section of barnes & noble were sad. again, i’ve seen that done elsewhere but here it really stood out. painfully so.

i wanted to like this book. people i generally trust to filter this kind of thing for me really enjoyed it and seemed to take a lot away from it. it isn’t out of the realm of possibility that i’m thick and didn’t get it. but i didn’t. get it, that is.