When I say that I do not intend to pursue a career in music, this is not something that comes lightly for me. In fact, I have come to believe that a musical career is one of the greatest things a person can have, and turning away from it is something that I do reluctantly.
Now some may applaud this decision for its maturity, but I would not be so quick to agree. Practically-minded people will think that making a career out of music is a risk, but I would actually say the opposite. Making a conscious decision not to pursue a career in music carries a unique danger all to its own, and this fact is grossly overlooked. There are many would-be geniuses walking around carrying bitter what-ifs. Cubicles across the world are full of those who wish that they had taken the plunge when they were still young and care-free. People with hidden dreams of musical greatness appear anywhere you may look, but you would not necessary know it at first, because their music has taken a back seat to the mundane pressures of a "normal" life, and all the expectations society attaches to it. In my life I have also met a number of people who have, in fact, recognized this other little-talked-about danger, and followed the dreams that so many others do not. They decided to take the road into a musical life, not only because they recognized their own excellence, but also because any other path would be unacceptable.
These people are my heroes, and I do wish I were one of them too. But I have found a different path, one that I find equally fulfilling. For the last year and a half I have worked as a court advocate for crime victims, particularly victims of domestic violence. It is truly an honor to do this work. In this field I have found a new equally-important dream, one that uses my talents to the fullest and improves my surroundings. I have decided to apply to law school to further develop the potential impact I can make. In the excitement of this new discovery, I sometimes take a step back and say "But wait, what about music?"
When I think about it, this is actually a question that I have been grappling with for as long as I can remember. And I suppose the best answer I can come up with is another question. "Do I want to rely on my creative process for my income?" When it comes to music, and so many other things in life, I am a searcher. I write "weird" music because I wonder what new and exciting places it will take me. But the commercial forces that operate today don't share that curiosity. So if you were to ask me, "can you trust yourself to create something that will support you financially?" the answer is an emphatic no.
By making this decision, I want to reiterate that I do not think things would be better if everyone followed my lead. Quite the opposite, in fact, and in any field, there is surely room at the top. We need musicians who are forward-thinking and imaginative to do what I do not have the courage to do. The status quo needs to be challenged, and new ideas need to be brought forward, even if commercial forces push back the other way.
People have asked me "why not teach music?" It would seem to be the perfect way to improve the world, provide financial security, and do what I love. This is a very good question, and my answer is somewhat cynical. I believe people usually go into teaching for the right reasons, but they do not as often go into law for the rights reasons. However, the attorneys who do take the spirit of service to heart are the ones who are really doing a world of good, and I want to take part in that tradition. My choice is unique to my set of circumstances, but of course, my story does not necessarily need to be your story. I would say to anyone, whether you are musically inclined or not, that you should follow whatever path leads you to the most good, and no one except you can say what that might be.
As for me, music will always be part of my life. I have every intention of being an old man in a basement studio turning knobs on a mixer trying to reach that unattainable perfection. The only difference is, I will only need to answer to myself, and not the commercial forces that may or may not care what I'm doing. In a way, those of us who choose not to make a career out of music have the greater responsibility. We are the music-lovers, and we are the ones charged with supporting our friends who have done the right thing and devoted themselves to music full-time. If we the consumers of this art do not prop it up, no one will. And, of course, we must continue to contribute our own talents to the mix. It is far too easy for us to give up the faith, to let our creative processes fall by the wayside while we take care of our real-world problems. But we cannot let this happen. The more we sing in choirs, play in bands, or run through string quartets on the weekends, the better we become, and the more we add our voices to humanity's library, the better we make the world.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Repost: "I Hate World Music" by David Byrne
Thanks to Laney Widener for posting this really great piece by David Byrne:
Read his full essay here.
"In my experience, the use of the term world music is a way of dismissing artists or their music as irrelevant to one's own life. It's a way of relegating this 'thing' into the realm of something exotic and therefore cute, weird but safe, because exotica is beautiful but irrelevant; they are, by definition, not like us. Maybe that's why I hate the term."
Read his full essay here.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Levin's Requiem
In honor of Mozart's birthday, I want to offer a few words about a very special recording of his Requiem in D Minor, a recording which also happens to pose some really interesting questions relating to artistic integrity. Here I paraphrase the liner notes from that recording:
Mozart's Requiem (K. 626) is a milestone of 18th Century choral music, and is one of the most celebrating pieces of all time. Adding to the intrigue surrounding the piece, is the fact that Mozart died before it was completed. His wife Constanze hired the composer Franz Xaver Süssmayr to complete the work, and make it performable. Given the enormity of this task, Süssmayr, a minor composer, exceeded expectations, and his score remains the most performed version of the piece today. There is debate within the scholarly community about authorship, with some insisting that the sections attributed to Süssmayr far exceed his compositional ability, while others point to the fact that his sections contain minor compositional errors (parallel fifths, and things of that sort) that are simply not found in Mozart's output. Whatever Süssmayr's real contributions were, he is a major figure in the Requiem's history, and his work is an essential element of the piece's performance history.
Fast forward to the late 20th Century. Some musicologists have decided to revisit the score and correct the (albeit minor) problems that are found in it. Now this is considered to be a controversial notion. Some would ask if it is really defensible to tinker with a work that has stood the test of time, and is rightly considered a masterpiece. Furthermore, is it possible for modern ears to have any say in how this work "should sound," or are we far too removed from its original context? There have been several approaches, each with its own unique features. A layer of intrigue was added when, in 1962, a fragment of music from an Amen fugue was discovered, leading historians to believe it originally belonged as part of the Requiem, but no one is completely sure.
The musicologist Richard Maunder put forward a completion which omitted anything not thought to be written by Mozart, therefore eliminating two entire movements from the piece, but adding the Amen fugue. This seems like an extreme approach, first, because it is impossible to know exactly what was sketched out by Mozart himself, and also because it results in the exclusion of some very good music.
Duncan Druce takes an equally radical approach, but instead rewrites rather than eliminates the Süssmayr sections. Like Maunder, he adds the Amen fugue. This product, in some places, sounds quite far-removed from the original score. The Lacrimosa movement in particular is difficult to recognize in its new form. This is surely problematic. The Lacrimosa movement, even if not entirely written by Mozart is an iconic section that is strongly identified with the composer (even being used in the burial scene in the movie Amadeus, for example). Turning this movement on its head is a questionable choice.
Robert D. Levin's answer lands somewhere in the middle, using the Amen fugue like the others, but still addressing the project conservatively with the great care it deserves. He writes:
I personally find Levin's approach the most convincing from a philosophical standpoint, but more importantly, the music itself sounds convincing. You might say it takes a certain amount of hubris to attempt to improve on a masterpiece. This is certainly true, so then I would say a little hubris can be healthy for artistic advancement. If we never tried new things or reinterpreted old things, we would not be where we are today. Part of what makes Mozart's Requiem so great is its mystery. If we could solve all the unanswered questions, perhaps we would not enjoy the work as much as we do today. Debate and discussion is half the fun.
Mozart's Requiem (K. 626) is a milestone of 18th Century choral music, and is one of the most celebrating pieces of all time. Adding to the intrigue surrounding the piece, is the fact that Mozart died before it was completed. His wife Constanze hired the composer Franz Xaver Süssmayr to complete the work, and make it performable. Given the enormity of this task, Süssmayr, a minor composer, exceeded expectations, and his score remains the most performed version of the piece today. There is debate within the scholarly community about authorship, with some insisting that the sections attributed to Süssmayr far exceed his compositional ability, while others point to the fact that his sections contain minor compositional errors (parallel fifths, and things of that sort) that are simply not found in Mozart's output. Whatever Süssmayr's real contributions were, he is a major figure in the Requiem's history, and his work is an essential element of the piece's performance history.
Fast forward to the late 20th Century. Some musicologists have decided to revisit the score and correct the (albeit minor) problems that are found in it. Now this is considered to be a controversial notion. Some would ask if it is really defensible to tinker with a work that has stood the test of time, and is rightly considered a masterpiece. Furthermore, is it possible for modern ears to have any say in how this work "should sound," or are we far too removed from its original context? There have been several approaches, each with its own unique features. A layer of intrigue was added when, in 1962, a fragment of music from an Amen fugue was discovered, leading historians to believe it originally belonged as part of the Requiem, but no one is completely sure.
The musicologist Richard Maunder put forward a completion which omitted anything not thought to be written by Mozart, therefore eliminating two entire movements from the piece, but adding the Amen fugue. This seems like an extreme approach, first, because it is impossible to know exactly what was sketched out by Mozart himself, and also because it results in the exclusion of some very good music.
Duncan Druce takes an equally radical approach, but instead rewrites rather than eliminates the Süssmayr sections. Like Maunder, he adds the Amen fugue. This product, in some places, sounds quite far-removed from the original score. The Lacrimosa movement in particular is difficult to recognize in its new form. This is surely problematic. The Lacrimosa movement, even if not entirely written by Mozart is an iconic section that is strongly identified with the composer (even being used in the burial scene in the movie Amadeus, for example). Turning this movement on its head is a questionable choice.
Robert D. Levin's answer lands somewhere in the middle, using the Amen fugue like the others, but still addressing the project conservatively with the great care it deserves. He writes:
"The completion heard here seeks to respect both of the tendencies of the newer versions. On the one hand the compositional problems of the Lacrimosa and the Amen fugue, and the movements surviving only in Süssmayr's hand have not been overlooked out of blind piety before their 200-year-old origin. On the other hand, the historical and performance tradition of the Requiem demands respect. A clearly drawn line of separation, in which everything except the contents of Mozart's autograph draft was to be considered spurious per se, was explicitly rejected. Quite the contrary: the goal was to revise not as much, but as little as possible, attempting in the revisions to observe the character, texture, voice leading, continuity and structure of Mozart's music. I have retained the traditional version insofar as it agrees with idiomatic Mozartean practice."
I personally find Levin's approach the most convincing from a philosophical standpoint, but more importantly, the music itself sounds convincing. You might say it takes a certain amount of hubris to attempt to improve on a masterpiece. This is certainly true, so then I would say a little hubris can be healthy for artistic advancement. If we never tried new things or reinterpreted old things, we would not be where we are today. Part of what makes Mozart's Requiem so great is its mystery. If we could solve all the unanswered questions, perhaps we would not enjoy the work as much as we do today. Debate and discussion is half the fun.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
What Sounds Weird Now?
In music we currently subdivide the octave into 12 equal tones, a system known as Equal Temperament (or Equal Temperament 12 to be more precise). This system sounds natural to us because it resembles the perfect ratios we want to hear from music. For examples, a ratio of 3:2 represents a perfect fifth (a C note to a G note). A ratio of 4:3 represents a perfect fourth (a C note to an F note). These perfect ratios sound consonant to the ears. Equal Temperament 12 does not match these ratios exactly. If it did, we would not be able to easily play music in every key. A tradeoff is required, and Equal Temperament 12 is generally considered to be the best system for being able to play in all keys, while still coming close to the perfect ratios we enjoy.
It is possible to divide the octave in other ways too. Consider Equal Temperament 15. It is the same principle, the only thing that changes is the number.
Listen to this composition by Jonathan Rabson that I found on Youtube:
Of course, it sounds pretty weird. But think about what it would be like if we only heard Equal Temperament 15 our whole lives, and then someone played in Equal Temperament 12? How would that be? I actually don't know the answer to this question. On one hand, Equal Temperament 15 is further away from the perfect ratios that humans seem to enjoy. However, if we had no context for Equal Temperament 12, I'm not convinced we would necessary be naturally drawn to it.
It is possible to divide the octave in other ways too. Consider Equal Temperament 15. It is the same principle, the only thing that changes is the number.
Listen to this composition by Jonathan Rabson that I found on Youtube:
Of course, it sounds pretty weird. But think about what it would be like if we only heard Equal Temperament 15 our whole lives, and then someone played in Equal Temperament 12? How would that be? I actually don't know the answer to this question. On one hand, Equal Temperament 15 is further away from the perfect ratios that humans seem to enjoy. However, if we had no context for Equal Temperament 12, I'm not convinced we would necessary be naturally drawn to it.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Musical Dishonesty
Is it dishonest to concoct a musical recording that would be virtually impossible to replicate in a live performance?
Ever since tape was invented, people have been using it to create new sonic textures, and many times these recordings represent sounds that cannot be heard in real life. The ability to record musical performances is, of course, one of the greatest breakthroughs in all of history. A similarly important but often overlooked breakthrough, however, is the ability to "record" sounds that never existed in the first place. Take this early example of tape music, a piece called "Etude aux chemins de fer" composed in 1948 by Pierre Schaeffer. I have linked to Youtube:
Pieces like this are forgotten milestones. How would one describe these sounds? The fact of the matter is that I can't describe, but this recording is unquestionably musical all the same.
Of course, experimentation of this sort is not without its detractors. Miles Davis made innovative use of studio technology on his 1970 album "Bitches Brew." The album contains multiple edits and uses sound effects such as tape loops and delay, previously unheard of in the jazz world. Some critics found these effects to run contrary to the spirit of jazz because they did not represent the spontaneity of the group, but rather resembled something constructed in a laboratory. Which side do you fall on?
Now with digital technology, there is no limit to the number of distinct sounds that can be created. We are no longer confined to the standard instruments we have become so accustomed to. Technology is a way for music to be advanced, and it is not something that needs to be resisted.
So all of this makes one wonder if our understanding of the word "recording" is starting to blow up in our faces. Certainly making a CD of a live performance is a recording in the conventional sense. But what if the recording itself is the performance, like "Etude aux chemins de fer"? Better yet, what if you meet somewhere in the middle, like "Bitches Brew" does? Indeed one of the biggest issues artists have to grapple with in the 21st century is the blurring of these lines. With innovations such as auto-tune we can no longer be sure if what we're hearing is the "real thing," and this is frustrating for many people. While I certainly don't advocate for the use of auto-tune to correct one's poor singing, generally speaking it does not offend me if we mix the "real" sounds with the "fake" ones. What is music except the sounds the we order? Does is matter how we choose to order them?
This leads to my initial question. Is it dishonest to concoct a musical recording that would be virtually impossible to replicate in a live performance? This is, of course, a contradiction. Any recording can be replicated in a live performance. All you have to do is press play, and listen.
Ever since tape was invented, people have been using it to create new sonic textures, and many times these recordings represent sounds that cannot be heard in real life. The ability to record musical performances is, of course, one of the greatest breakthroughs in all of history. A similarly important but often overlooked breakthrough, however, is the ability to "record" sounds that never existed in the first place. Take this early example of tape music, a piece called "Etude aux chemins de fer" composed in 1948 by Pierre Schaeffer. I have linked to Youtube:
Pieces like this are forgotten milestones. How would one describe these sounds? The fact of the matter is that I can't describe, but this recording is unquestionably musical all the same.
Of course, experimentation of this sort is not without its detractors. Miles Davis made innovative use of studio technology on his 1970 album "Bitches Brew." The album contains multiple edits and uses sound effects such as tape loops and delay, previously unheard of in the jazz world. Some critics found these effects to run contrary to the spirit of jazz because they did not represent the spontaneity of the group, but rather resembled something constructed in a laboratory. Which side do you fall on?
Now with digital technology, there is no limit to the number of distinct sounds that can be created. We are no longer confined to the standard instruments we have become so accustomed to. Technology is a way for music to be advanced, and it is not something that needs to be resisted.
So all of this makes one wonder if our understanding of the word "recording" is starting to blow up in our faces. Certainly making a CD of a live performance is a recording in the conventional sense. But what if the recording itself is the performance, like "Etude aux chemins de fer"? Better yet, what if you meet somewhere in the middle, like "Bitches Brew" does? Indeed one of the biggest issues artists have to grapple with in the 21st century is the blurring of these lines. With innovations such as auto-tune we can no longer be sure if what we're hearing is the "real thing," and this is frustrating for many people. While I certainly don't advocate for the use of auto-tune to correct one's poor singing, generally speaking it does not offend me if we mix the "real" sounds with the "fake" ones. What is music except the sounds the we order? Does is matter how we choose to order them?
This leads to my initial question. Is it dishonest to concoct a musical recording that would be virtually impossible to replicate in a live performance? This is, of course, a contradiction. Any recording can be replicated in a live performance. All you have to do is press play, and listen.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Why the Red Hot Chili Peppers Need a New Mastering Engineer
This has been written about many times before, but I have decided I want to add my own sarcastic remarks (if only because this issue is so damn irritating!).
Mastering is the final stage in the production process. The mastering engineer is charged with several things, including adjusting the overal equalization of the mix, determining fades and spaces between tracks, and adjusting the sound levels of the mixes so that playback over the entire disc is relatively consistent. Since the 1990s, it has become the trend in the music industry to master albums in such a way that they play back as loudly as possible. This is often paired with compression, which is the process of making quiet parts relatively louder, so that there is less of a dynamic range. These are technically separate issues, but both are starting to have a deleterious effect on the quality of recorded popular music (classical and jazz do not yet seeme to have this problem, thankfully). Have you ever turned up a speaker so loud that it starts to crackle from being maxed out? Some rather treacherous mastering engineers have been applying this same principle to a significant number of commercial recordings. The difference is that instead of the playback equipment being maxed out (as in the cranked speaker example), the audio files themselves are maxed out. So no amount of turning the volume down can restore the sound to its proper fidelity.
The poster child for this phenomenom is the Red Hot Chili Peppers album "Californication." The album's high volume no doubt helped it stand out when it was heard over the radio, where sound quality was poor to begin with. Indeed, this is the only reason I can think of to make an album this loud.
Look at the waveform for "Parallel Univserse" from "Californication." It's generally not a good sign when your waveform looks like a solid blue bar. This recording lacks what is called "headroom," which is the space that exists between the top of the waves, and the threshold for maximum loudness.
If you zoom in, you can see that the sound waves are clipped at the top. Important sound information is lost because of this. The waves are not able to form in the natural way, and playback distorted.
Compare that with "Time" from the 30th Anniversary Edition of Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" where there is plenty of headroom, and there are no problems with sound waves being cut off at the top.
Clearly Pink Floyd wins the battle for taste (well honestly, what else do you expect?). The Chili Peppers are clearly off the charts, and not in a good way. Ironically enough, I've seem some reviews of the the remastered "Dark Side of the Moon" complain that it is too compressed when compared to the original. I guess back then they actually cared how things sounded. What a novel idea...
There seems to be a perception from many producers and fans that louder recordings are more professional or crisp. Really, the opposite is true. Many recordings sound professional in spite of their excessive loudness, not because of it. Independent musicians may not have access to the same sorts of resources as a band like the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but at least we don't go around saying that our music is awesome because it plays back louder than yours (which, by the way, it usually doesn't).
Maybe this year we can convince Warner Bros. Records to release a new unmastered Thirteenth Anniversary Edition and get the current piece of crap off the market. I was at a party with some of my sister's friends, and one of them talked about how he got "Californication" on vinyl, fulling acknowledging that it was a rather self-defeating exercise. "It's really not a very high-quality recording," is what I remember him saying. I enjoy his sense of humor. Of course, the recording itself is fine as far as I can tell. It's what they did after the fact that's the problem. "Californication" is not the only album that suffers from the Loudness War, but it is one of the earliest and most egregious casualties. Others examples that come to mind include Metallica's "Death Magnetic," Oasis's "What's the Story Morning Glory?," the Mars Volta's "De-Loused in the Comatorium" and pretty much every album by System of a Down. The "Death Magnetic" situation is rather funny, in an unfortunate sort of way. From Wikipedia:
Given that it is Metallica, after all, this reaction doesn't surprise me. But I would have liked the issue to have been addressed at least on some level. In any case, you know you have a problem when the Wikipedia entry about your album has a separate section for "Sound Quality Issues."
Of course, by singling out the aforementioned albums for their poor mastering jobs, I do not mean to imply in any way that they are musically deficient. Quite the opposite, in fact, and that is the real tragedy.
Mastering is the final stage in the production process. The mastering engineer is charged with several things, including adjusting the overal equalization of the mix, determining fades and spaces between tracks, and adjusting the sound levels of the mixes so that playback over the entire disc is relatively consistent. Since the 1990s, it has become the trend in the music industry to master albums in such a way that they play back as loudly as possible. This is often paired with compression, which is the process of making quiet parts relatively louder, so that there is less of a dynamic range. These are technically separate issues, but both are starting to have a deleterious effect on the quality of recorded popular music (classical and jazz do not yet seeme to have this problem, thankfully). Have you ever turned up a speaker so loud that it starts to crackle from being maxed out? Some rather treacherous mastering engineers have been applying this same principle to a significant number of commercial recordings. The difference is that instead of the playback equipment being maxed out (as in the cranked speaker example), the audio files themselves are maxed out. So no amount of turning the volume down can restore the sound to its proper fidelity.
The poster child for this phenomenom is the Red Hot Chili Peppers album "Californication." The album's high volume no doubt helped it stand out when it was heard over the radio, where sound quality was poor to begin with. Indeed, this is the only reason I can think of to make an album this loud.
Look at the waveform for "Parallel Univserse" from "Californication." It's generally not a good sign when your waveform looks like a solid blue bar. This recording lacks what is called "headroom," which is the space that exists between the top of the waves, and the threshold for maximum loudness.
If you zoom in, you can see that the sound waves are clipped at the top. Important sound information is lost because of this. The waves are not able to form in the natural way, and playback distorted.
Compare that with "Time" from the 30th Anniversary Edition of Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" where there is plenty of headroom, and there are no problems with sound waves being cut off at the top.
Clearly Pink Floyd wins the battle for taste (well honestly, what else do you expect?). The Chili Peppers are clearly off the charts, and not in a good way. Ironically enough, I've seem some reviews of the the remastered "Dark Side of the Moon" complain that it is too compressed when compared to the original. I guess back then they actually cared how things sounded. What a novel idea...
There seems to be a perception from many producers and fans that louder recordings are more professional or crisp. Really, the opposite is true. Many recordings sound professional in spite of their excessive loudness, not because of it. Independent musicians may not have access to the same sorts of resources as a band like the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but at least we don't go around saying that our music is awesome because it plays back louder than yours (which, by the way, it usually doesn't).
Maybe this year we can convince Warner Bros. Records to release a new unmastered Thirteenth Anniversary Edition and get the current piece of crap off the market. I was at a party with some of my sister's friends, and one of them talked about how he got "Californication" on vinyl, fulling acknowledging that it was a rather self-defeating exercise. "It's really not a very high-quality recording," is what I remember him saying. I enjoy his sense of humor. Of course, the recording itself is fine as far as I can tell. It's what they did after the fact that's the problem. "Californication" is not the only album that suffers from the Loudness War, but it is one of the earliest and most egregious casualties. Others examples that come to mind include Metallica's "Death Magnetic," Oasis's "What's the Story Morning Glory?," the Mars Volta's "De-Loused in the Comatorium" and pretty much every album by System of a Down. The "Death Magnetic" situation is rather funny, in an unfortunate sort of way. From Wikipedia:
Fans have noted that these sonic problems are not present in the Guitar Hero version of the album, where the tracks are present separately because of the game mechanics and the tracks were sent to the game publishers before the process was made...
...On September 15, 2008, after a reviewer for Swedish daily Sydsvenskan admitted that he preferred the Guitar Hero mixes of Death Magnetic to the official release, a scheduled interview was duly cancelled by Universal Music Sweden. Its president, Per Sundin said:
"The reviewer is referring to a BitTorrent where someone has altered the original songs. The reviewer explains exactly where one should go in order to download the file that totally infringes on a copyright. It's not only an illegal file, but an altered file. The reviewer also writes that this is how the album should have sounded. File-sharing of music is illegal. Period. There's nothing to discuss. That fact – that Sydsvenskan has a writer that has downloaded this music illegally and then makes mention of an illegal site in his review – is totally unacceptable to us."
Given that it is Metallica, after all, this reaction doesn't surprise me. But I would have liked the issue to have been addressed at least on some level. In any case, you know you have a problem when the Wikipedia entry about your album has a separate section for "Sound Quality Issues."
Of course, by singling out the aforementioned albums for their poor mastering jobs, I do not mean to imply in any way that they are musically deficient. Quite the opposite, in fact, and that is the real tragedy.
Friday, December 30, 2011
The Soundcheck With Unexpected Results
I did a brief soundcheck to make sure all of my recording equipment was working with the new computer. It was, thankfully, and so I recorded this little snippet. I plugged the guitar direct in without an amp, so don't expect a fantastic-sounding recording. The precision on my guitar playing is not the greatest either:
Now this is pretty boring, I must say. I would have no desire to listen to this. So then I decided I would apply some strange effects using a program called Ardour. Ardour is what I use for recording and mixing. It has the same functionality of commercial programs such as Cubase, but it is free and open-source. There are a number of effects plugins that are created for Linux that can be used with Ardour, and they are collectively known as Linux Audio Developers Simple Plugin API, or "LADSPA." Both Ardour and the LADSPA plugins can be installed simply in Linux by searching for them in the software list.
Ardour is a more powerful program than other free recording programs, such as Audacity, because effects can be applied non-destructively. This means that the underlying file is always there as it was, not matter what is layered on top. If you apply, say, a reverb effect, and you decide you don't like it, you can remove it or adjust the settings without having to undo all the moves you made since you applied the reverb in the first place.
There are many LADSPA plugins, and they can do a wide range of things, including the standard effects of distortion, reverb, chorus, etc., but also more unconventional effects. For this example I decided to apply some weird ones to the sample you just heard. The "rhythm guitar" sound has an effect called Pointer Cast Distortion (using extreme parameters for maximum weirdness). The "lead guitar" sound has several effects, including Standard Reverb, Barry's Satan Maximizer (awesome name), Calf Rotary Speaker, and the Dyson Compressor.
The result is a file called "This Makes No Sense. (I got this title from an error message that Ardour gave me, saying that what I was trying to apply a plugin in a way that made no sense) Take a listen:
A little quirky, for sure. I then wondered what would happen if I edited the file using an obscure free program called Mammut (many thanks to Baljinder Sekhon for telling me about this one). Mammut describes itself as "Non-intuitive Sound Transformation." It can be downloaded here:
http://www.studiotoolz.net/mammut
I was having trouble installing Mammut on Ubuntu, so I actually downloaded the Windows version and ran it through Linux's Windows Emulator, known more commonly as WINE.
Mammut has a very cool effect called the Stretch Effect. I took the file "This Makes No Sense," and using a stretch value of 1.3, made a new file that sounds quite severe. For lack of a better title, it is called "This Still Makes No Sense.":
For all you audio geeks out there, I hope you try out Mammut. You will be able to make sounds you didn't know existed. With all this technology , just remember to use your powers to make your music sound evil...
Now this is pretty boring, I must say. I would have no desire to listen to this. So then I decided I would apply some strange effects using a program called Ardour. Ardour is what I use for recording and mixing. It has the same functionality of commercial programs such as Cubase, but it is free and open-source. There are a number of effects plugins that are created for Linux that can be used with Ardour, and they are collectively known as Linux Audio Developers Simple Plugin API, or "LADSPA." Both Ardour and the LADSPA plugins can be installed simply in Linux by searching for them in the software list.
Ardour is a more powerful program than other free recording programs, such as Audacity, because effects can be applied non-destructively. This means that the underlying file is always there as it was, not matter what is layered on top. If you apply, say, a reverb effect, and you decide you don't like it, you can remove it or adjust the settings without having to undo all the moves you made since you applied the reverb in the first place.
There are many LADSPA plugins, and they can do a wide range of things, including the standard effects of distortion, reverb, chorus, etc., but also more unconventional effects. For this example I decided to apply some weird ones to the sample you just heard. The "rhythm guitar" sound has an effect called Pointer Cast Distortion (using extreme parameters for maximum weirdness). The "lead guitar" sound has several effects, including Standard Reverb, Barry's Satan Maximizer (awesome name), Calf Rotary Speaker, and the Dyson Compressor.
The result is a file called "This Makes No Sense. (I got this title from an error message that Ardour gave me, saying that what I was trying to apply a plugin in a way that made no sense) Take a listen:
A little quirky, for sure. I then wondered what would happen if I edited the file using an obscure free program called Mammut (many thanks to Baljinder Sekhon for telling me about this one). Mammut describes itself as "Non-intuitive Sound Transformation." It can be downloaded here:
http://www.studiotoolz.net/mammut
I was having trouble installing Mammut on Ubuntu, so I actually downloaded the Windows version and ran it through Linux's Windows Emulator, known more commonly as WINE.
Mammut has a very cool effect called the Stretch Effect. I took the file "This Makes No Sense," and using a stretch value of 1.3, made a new file that sounds quite severe. For lack of a better title, it is called "This Still Makes No Sense.":
For all you audio geeks out there, I hope you try out Mammut. You will be able to make sounds you didn't know existed. With all this technology , just remember to use your powers to make your music sound evil...
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