I mentioned in a recent round-up that I've been working on an arrangement of Bach's famous aria "Sheep May Safely Graze", hopefully to play with the Brighton Guitar Quartet. The aria is from his 1733 secular "Hunting" cantata (BWV 208). It's been quite a process adapting it for 4 guitars!
I based my first draft on a piano transcription, transposing it from the original key of Bb up to C, and then ran it past the guitarist and arranger Steve Gordon, with whom I've been working over the last year. Steve suggested that I go back to the original scoring for two flutes, soprano and continuo and assign those to each guitar part. He also suggested transposing it - again! - to A, so that the continuo part in particular could make use of the open strings.
Now this proved tricky, not least as the original vocal part (assigned to guitar 3 in my arrangement) was written in soprano clef. So at this point I was down to transposing the whole thing by a minor third (from my first draft) and dealing with what Sibelius helpfully calls an "archaic" clef. Arghh. Oh, and I had to work out the continuo part from a non-figured bass line, inferring the harmony from the rest of the original texture and from the piano transcription. All just a bit above my pay grade, but it seemed to work, broadly.
Back to Steve for more feedback, and his final piece of (as ever sage) advice was to make the continuo part more guitaristic, making the chord voicings more idiomatic to the instrument, to which I dutifully attended. Anyway, here's a midi rendition of the final version. Still no attention to dynamics yet. Bach, being a clearly lazy bastard, hardly attended to such frippery. We'll be taking a look at this when rehearsing with the BGQ...
This Tuesday, my great friend (and one-time Beeb colleague) Nick Reynolds made his annual trip down here to the hipster capital of Europe to spend a few hours recording with me. Nick informs me that this was our eighth year - if it hadn't been for the odd worlwide health emergency we'd be in double figures by now!
Over the years we've evolved a certain way of working that, well, works - for both of us, I hope! Nick brings down his clarinet and various charts he's been working on, we try out a few arrangements and pretty much hit record. Second takes are unusual! We also generally spend a bit of time capturing some of Nick's solo improvisations which over the years I've worked into a lot of my Boom Logistics and Abyssal Labs pieces. Here's a particular favourite (Nick comes in like a screaming and rather jittery banshee at around 1'06'):
This year Nick brought along three charts: one of his own tunes and his typically wayward arrangements of Dave Brubeck's "Fujiymana" and Nat D Ayer's "If You Were the Only Girl in the World" (yes, really). And yep, Nick did a single-take improvisation that I cut up and turned into a kind of semi-indeterminate generative piece, using Ableton Live's rather fun clip "follow" function and a shit ton of Live's FX plugins. Here it is:
I'm thinking I'll be using the piece in the next Boom Logistics release, hopefully coming this autumn (yes, I know we've been here before). And when Nick posts his pieces, I'll be sure to link to them. Anyway, great fun as always - thanks, Nick!
Today marks the thirtieth anniversary of the release of a compilation album I put together while working as a product manager in Virgin Records' Commercial Marketing Department: 152 Minutes, 33 Seconds - A Brief History of Ambient (Volume 1). This was the mid-90s, remember, and "ambient" had become something of a catch-all for a range of electronic and generally spacey music being spun in, er, chill-out spaces at raves. Or so I gather; I guess you had to be there (I wasn't). As it happened, Virgin's storied 70s catalogue had a lot of rich ambient-related pickings: kraut rock, prog and early electronica. The label also owned Editions EG, the "art" imprint of the EG label, which was a rich seam, not least of course for the four albums released by Brian Eno that effectively launched the very term "ambient". And there was plenty of stuff going on at the label contemporaneously that provided compilation fodder. So the collection was a no-brainer. (I should also point out from the get-go that it was not my idea - I was charged with putting it together by my then bosses, of whom more in a mo.)
Anyhow, one way or another, the release ended up being the first of a series of both compilation albums and new releases that somehow ended up, 20 years later, with its own Wikipedia page, Virgin Ambient Series. The series ran to 24 releases and came to an end in 1997, the year I left the company. For a while at least, the series enjoyed something of a cult status and acquired a bit of an afterlife on the web, so I thought this might be a good moment to share a few random thoughts about it, although as the title of this post indicates, this was a long time (and several careers) ago, so some of my recollections might not be court-worthy.
The key thing that needs to be said is that this was never conceived as a series - or at least not the one it turned into. Yes, the first release featured the teasing "Volume One", but I think that simply suggested that we might flog the dead horse at least a couple more times. Anyway, the first record sold well enough to follow it up with two more, which mined the same catalogue (with somewhat diminishing returns, truth be told), again riffed on John Cage titles, and featured graphics by Buggy G Riphead, who'd been working with the Future Sound of London, at that time one of Virgin's apparently coolest acts.
Things took a very different turn with the series' fourth volume, 1994's Isolationism, compiled by Kevin Martin, now perhaps best known for his work as The Bug, and whom I'd known since his days with God (I'd encouraged the Virgin imprint to release God's "Possession" a few years earlier). Kevin had written about the darker music around the edges of ambient for The Wire magazine, and (again, if memory serves) coined the term "Isolationism" to describe it; the compilation was Kevin's idea and broke with the series template not only stylistically, but in licensing new tracks.
Albums then came thick and fast, and broadly fell into four categories.
"Historical" compilations The legendary journalist and musician David Toop released several compilations for us, starting with 1996's Ocean of Sound (to accompany David's groundbreaking book of the same name), continuing to the series' last release, 1997's Guitars on Mars. In a similar vein, Kevin compiled the psych-jazz survey Jazz Satellites.
Artist releases This was perhaps the most unexpected area of activity for us, and the series ended up including several releases by Toop himself, Australian composer Paul Schütze, Kevin again under two soubriquets, Techno Animal (with Justin Broadrick of Godflesh and Jesu fame) and The Sidewinder, and Rudy Tambala's Sufi.
Compilations of new material Following Isolationism, Kevin went on to compile further collections of new material for the series, the two volumes of Macro Dub Infection.
Existing planned releases At least two artist compilations that would have gone ahead anyway ended up under the Ambient series banner, a collection of work by Tangerine Dream founder Edgar Froese, and the Penguin Cafe Orchestra's compilation Preludes, Airs and Yodels.
Although more releases were planned for 1998, I left Virgin at the end of the previous year and the series ended there. So... that's the history, again as I recall it, and what follows are a few brief observations (file under "wanting to get off my chest for three decades").
The real heroes of the series get nary a mention on any of the album credits: my then bosses Steve Pritchard and Pete Duckworth. It was they who had suggested the first compilation and from there on out they were nothing but supportive of my work on the series. Given how esoteric things got at times (remember, they headed up the Commercial Marketing team), they let me get on with it and supported me throughout. In retrospect, I think I was pretty bratty about the whole enterprise and not sufficiently grateful at the time. So let me put that right now: Pete, Steve - thank you for your patience with it all!
Not unrelated... In some of the contemporary coverage of the series, there was definitely something of a "major label ripping us off" kind of vibe. As a Quietus review of my own alt-rock compilation Monsters, Robots and Bug Men says: "One of the bands on here used to have a website whose discography advised people not to buy this album, because it was released by Virgin and everything on it was already available on smaller labels." Indeed, in the Wikipedia entry on "Isolationism", Jim Plotkin is quoted as saying that "Isolationism was a Virgin compilation and it needed a marketing angle". Really, a marketing angle?!
Honestly, I get it. But this is definitely not what was going on. After the initial spate of catalogue-mining compilations, the whole shebang consisted of me constantly hustling Steve and Pete to let me put out collections of old material and releases of new work that I wanted to get more attention. If there was anything nefarious going on, it was me trying to build a personal reputation; I don't think even that was the case (and in any case it didn't work), but I'm prepared to concede it. But I can say categorically that it was not a major label "cashing in". If only!
A clear shortfall of the series is that it clearly relies on too small a circle of musicians and journalists - although they were all great, of course. The truth is that I simply wasn't well enough networked, knowledgable nor proactive for it to have been otherwise. As painful as it is to admit it, I think that a smarter, better-connected and, well, more knowledgable "overseer" (as Kevin termed me on the liner notes for Jazz Satellites) would not only have produced (overseen?!) a stronger series, they would have been able to create the attention it deserved.
I'm particularly proud of the limited-period licensing approach we took to new work. Alongside all this activity, one of my roles at Virgin was to "look after" the deeper back catalogue. Part of this entailed making what in retrospect were often entirely specious arguments for keeping low-selling titles in print. (This is one of the reasons I fell so hard for Chris Anderson's "Long Tail" distribution argument, although I admit that it didn't pan out as some of us had hoped. More on that another day.) Seeing (albeit subjective) masterpieces constantly in danger of deletion made me determined that any new work we released should have its release rights returned to the artist at some point after release.
I don't claim that the series created a template for playlist culture. For one thing, mixtapes had of course been a thing for a decade or more before this sequence kicked off. But it is striking to me how popular thematically-arranged, fabulously niche playlists (complete with crossfades!) have become in the age of Spotify, bringing me neatly on to...
The series has definitely had a bit of a strange afterlife, not least on Spotify. I embedded a playlist based on David Toop's Ocean of Sound series earlier. But it gets weirder. Only a couple of years after leaving Virgin I started to see online speculation about the second iteration of Kevin's Jazz Satellites compilation. As I mentioned earlier, we'd already scoped this out before I left the label, and had even distributed sales notes (sadly I can't find a copy of these in my threadbare archive). Somehow these notes had made it into the hands of members of online mailing lists (rmember them?), leading one list member to suggest that there were "definite plans for the second volume when corporate changes sunk the project." Yeah, right: "sunk", and "corporate changes"!
After the initial three catalogue-scraping compilations, I personally put together only one more, the aforementioned Robots. For the longest time, I felt this to be the weakest of the entire series, not least as it got a complete kicking in the press at the time (and a completely reasonable letter of complaint from the brilliant Simon Reynolds pointing out that I'd entirely ripped off his concept of "post-rock" without attribution). But even this release has had its own afterlife and even re-appreciation, with a contributor to AllMusic describing it as "a real peach", and adding, "attempting to condense a genre that encompasses everything into 155 minutes is a thankless task". Honestly, after all these years, I'll take that!
Finally, a word on the composer and trumpeter Jon Hassell, who sadly died a little over two years ago. Jon's amazing work as a composer and band leader naturally featured heavily in the AMBT series' first three releases (again, a by-product of Virgin at that point owning the catalogue of Editions EG, who'd released several of Hassell's key albums and his collaborations with Brian Eno). He then went on to play on Techno Animal's Re-Entry (recently re-issued on Relapse) and Toop's Pink Noir. I regret that the series doesn't feature one of his own records, but again, a better series "overseer" would have made that happen.
So that's it. In the spirit of this post's title and, I hope, its general tone, I would welcome any feedback, observations, and perhaps most of all, corrections. Again: recollections may vary; it now all feels like several lifetimes ago.
This was going to be a follow up piece on my AI-assisted little introduction to spectralist composition, but is rather more (if briefly) about generative AI itself. I asked my, er, "research assistant" to pull together a short list of spectralist and post-spectralist work featuring classical or electric guitar, with a brief commentary. Here's what it came up with (my comments on its comments in italics:
Fausto Romitelli - "Dead City Radio" for Electric Guitar and Ensemble: This mesmerising piece combines the electric guitar's unique timbre with spectral orchestration, creating an otherworldly sonic experience. OK, not a bad start.
Tristan Murail - "Vampyr!" for Electric Guitar and Ensemble: Murail's innovative use of spectral techniques shines through in this composition, where the electric guitar interacts with the ensemble in a haunting exploration of sound. Actually, this is a solo electric guitar piece, so I'm marking you down for that - although it's fantastic!
Brian Ferneyhough - "Kurze Schatten II" for Solo Electric Guitar": This technically demanding piece challenges the electric guitar's capabilities, combining post-spectral elements with extended playing techniques. Mmm... it's for solo classical guitar, and Ferneyhough is in NO WAY a spectralist. So nil points on that one (although it IS great and I will inlcude in a later post about New Complexity composition).
Michael Levinas - "Le Rouge et le Noir" for Solo Classical Guitar: Levinas' composition explores the expressive potential of the classical guitar, with spectral influences enriching its emotional depth. I've found nothing on this other than a bunch of scholarly articles, I'm afraid.
Philippe Leroux - "M" for Electric Guitar and Orchestra: Leroux's imaginative work features the electric guitar as a soloist in dialogue with the orchestral forces, showcasing spectral orchestration and the guitar's versatility. Ditto.
Magnus Lindberg - "Era" for Electric Guitar and Ensemble: Lindberg's post-spectral language beautifully intertwines the electric guitar with a diverse ensemble, creating a dynamic and engaging musical dialogue. Ditto.
Benjamin Thigpen - "Metal, Skin, Wood" for Prepared Electric Guitar and Electronics: Thigpen's electroacoustic exploration includes prepared electric guitar elements, combining spectral and electronic soundscapes. Ditto. Although I ended up enjoying an article about the future of aluminium supply.
Javier Torres Maldonado - "Cyber Guitar" for Guitar and Electronics: Torres Maldonado's piece features the guitar in a captivating conversation with electronic elements, exploring spectral timbres in an electroacoustic setting. Er, ditto - this is getting boring, frankly.
Kaija Saariaho - "NoaNoa" for Flute and Electronics (or Flute and Live Electronics): Though not specifically written for guitar, Saariaho's use of electronics and spectral techniques provides an inspiring example of how the guitar can be integrated into similar works. Well, thanks for that, but not exactly what I was after.
OK, back to me, in non-italics.
So this was, to put it mildly, a disappointing exercise. To date I'd been less than impressed with ChatGPT's ability to write posts for me, or at least in anything approaching what passes for my style, but I have been broadly pleased with the results of my experiments in terms of research. But it really fell over here. For one thing, it completely missed this piece for classical guitar by one of spectralism's greatest figures, Tristan Murail (although in fairness, it did find "Vampyre!", albeit mis-describing it):
My guess is that a lot of the failing here is that in emplying a large language model (LLM) approach, ChatGPT is better able to search, say, scholarly articles than it is on, well, just browsing YouTube. And in the case of this piece of research, the latter appraoch would be rather more beneficial. Although I stress that this is just a hunch, as this is very much not my area of specialism, and I feel like I'm reverse-engineering its methods. That being said, my own "manual" Googling on the topic hasn't turned up much more either, so it's more than possible that I've set it an impossible task in this instance. I'll keep trying, and perhaps set something a little less challenging next time.
As for the "tone" thing, it's just not getting "me". I've stripped out some of the more egregious examples of it mangling my tone in this post, but really, I don't think even the 25-year old Simon Hopkins would have used terms like "captivating conversation" or "the expressive potential of the classical guitar"*. My suspicion here (again in the spirit of reverse engineering) is that I'm not giving it a large enough of a sample of my writing to get to grips with, so I'll try harder on that front next time, too. More soon!
* I'll have more to say about my 25-year old self in a couple of days.
"Spectralism" emerged in the 1970s as a mesmerizing compositional technique. Inspired by the scientific analysis of sound spectra, this movement unlocked a captivating world of sonic colours and timbral intricacies. Pioneering composers like Gerard Grisey and Tristan Murail paved the way for a remarkable evolution in musical expression.
The roots of spectralism can be traced back to the groundbreaking works of György Ligeti and Iannis Xenakis. These composers explored the boundaries of sound, and Grisey and Murail arguably took this approach to new heights. They delved into the hidden treasures within sound spectra and orchestrated their compositions based on these spectral analyses.
The effect had the breathtaking effect of instruments unleashing unheard textures and complex harmonic spectra. These composers introduced a new world of extended techniques, allowing musicians to breathe life into somewhat ethereal soundscapes. As time passed, spectralism evolved into post-spectralism, pushing the boundaries even further. Composers embraced spectral foundations while incorporating rhythmic complexities, microtonality, and harmonious fusions with other contemporary styles.
Key figures in post-spectralism, like Kaija Saariaho, brought their own innovations to the genre. Her opera "L'amour de loin" beautifully exemplifies the synthesis of spectral techniques with mesmerising storytelling. Magnus Lindberg's orchestral work "Kraft" is another striking example of post-spectralism's expanded sonic palette.
Influential texts, like Saariaho's "Notes on the Concept of Spectralism," further solidified the movement's impact, offering insightful glimpses into the minds of these visionary composers. Post-spectralism's cross-disciplinary nature fostered collaborations with visual artists, choreographers, and more, enriching the artistic experience and creating truly immersive performances.
List of Key Spectralist Works:
Gerard Grisey - "Partiels" (Orchestral Work)
Tristan Murail - "Gondwana" (Orchestral Work)
Hugues Dufourt - "Antiphysis" (Chamber Work)
Gérard Pape - "Imaginary Landscapes I" (Electronic and Tape Music)
I'm cracking on with the Bach chorale harmonisation work, more or less daily, so will share some recent examples, again side by side (cringingly) with Bach's own harmonisation where possible.
Here's the full choral version, sung rather beautifully by a Dutch choir - I couldn't find a version of Bach's 4-part harmonisation, but other people's own work out there in YouTube land generally has more going on in the ATB parts than mine, which is a little too, er, stately, listening back.
Here's one where I had to realise Bach's figured bass (Albert Reimenschneider collated 69 of these, only a handful of which Bach himself harmonised - and this isn't one of those).
I've also been working on an arrangement for the Brighton Guitar Quartet of Bach's famous aria "Sheep May Safely Graze" from his earliest known secular cantata "Was mir behagt, ist nur die muntre Jagd" ("What pleases me is only the cheerful hunt" - BWV 208). Here's the first draft, which is based on a piano transcription and transposed form Bb to C.
Having spoken about this with my friend Steve Gordon, himself a brilliant arranger of baroque music for various guitar combinations, I'm going to be making some substantial changes. Steve suggested that I base the arrangement on the original composition, having pointed me at the extraordinary Petrucci Music Library's online database of out-of-copyright scores. The original aria is arranged for two recorders (or flutes), soprano and continuo, so Steve suggests that I assign those parts to guitars 1 & 2, 3 and 4 respectively. This should create more independence of line and give guitar 4 something more chordal (and certainly more interesting) to do. I'm also going to re-transpose the piece to A, not least to give give guitar 4 some open strings to play with. I'll report back on that, but in the meantime, here's the original.
On the non-Bach front, I've also been working on another arrangement for the BGQ, this time of "The Old Castle", from Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition suite. I say "arrangement", but it's actually a transposition to Am of an existing arrangement by Angelo Ferraro that had inexplicably left the piece in the original key of G#m - not an intuitive key for guitarists! I'm probably going to make some changes to the assigment of parts, as it gets a tad tedious for guitar 4! Anyway, here it is. (The sample set is Native Instruments' Plucked Nylon which is pretty good, but doesn't seem to accomodate tamboura effect that this arrangement strictly needs).
Switching gears, I mentioned in a recent tweet (or is that an "X"?!) that it's almost 30 years since the release of the CD compilation "152 Minutes, 33 Seconds - A Brief History of Ambient", which somewhat inavertandtly kicked of a series of 24 albums that took up much of my professional (and for that matter, personal) time over the ensuing four years and is listed in Wikipedia as the "Virgin Ambient Series". Well, I dug out my original marketing notes, and it turns out that the CD was released on August 9th, 1993, so I'm busy putting together some thoughts for the anniversary, which I'll post here on the day. It turned out that I didn't have many of the original releases, so I've been buying them through the excellent Discogs, which if nothing else has revealed which of the titles is the most sought after. It's also costing me a small fortune, which is annoying, but there you go.
Managed to get hold of 15 so far... another 10 to go!
Finally, that word on failure... In April I finally got around to sitting my classical guitar performance diploma and I have to report that somewhat disappointingly I failed. I'm only reporting it now as I requested a re-marking. That's not something I would ordinarily do, but I was encouraged to do so by a number of my guitar-playing mentors who were all surprised by the result, not least given that the recitals I turned in as part of my Master's were both given credits. In any case, the re-marking has confirmed the failure, which to be honest I was aniticipating.
Although I was initially a bit shaken, I'm actually pretty sanguine about it. The overall tenor of the feedback is: musically communicative, but technically less than assured. That's pretty much in accord with the feedback in all the exams and competitions in which I've participated, but where musicality seems to have made up for technical issues in the past, clearly this time not so much. Given that I took the instrument up so late in life, the holes in in technique aren't entirely a surprise. So it's back on the horse, and a few months of studies and technical work awaits. Sigh.
I noted in my last post that doing the Master’s at Surrey revealed a whole bunch of gaps in my basic music-theoretical knowledge, and that I needed remedial work. With that in mind, I’ve been taking harmony lessons from the Brighton-based composer and teacher Peter Copley. And, well, it’s back to basics time.
In time-honoured fashion I'm back to harmonising chorales in the style of Bach. Working from Albert Riemenschneider's 1941's seminal collection 371 Chorales and 69 Chorale Melodies with Figured Bass, I'm taking chorale melodies and trying my damndest to come up with at least reasonably convincing harmonisations. Of course, then comparing them with JS's own harmonisations is pretty disheartening, but what you gonna do?!
An obvious question would be "why"? I clearly have no intention of spending whatever creative time I have writing fake baroque choral music, after all. But, but... I am finding that working at this on a (mostly) daily basis, and trying to "stick to the rules" as closely as possible (watch out for those hidden consecutives!) is having a whole set of effects. It's giving me generally more harmonic facility; it's definitely developing my inner ear; and if nothing else, it's working my Sibelius chops on a regular basis. It may also help ward of dementia; here's hoping.
Here are a couple of recent examples. In the spirit of self-humiliation, I'm presenting them side-by-side with Bach's own harmonisations.
More widely than that, the chorales are a pretty good basis for getting used to a range of instruments, getting comfortable with their ranges, clefs, transpositions and so on. Here's a chorale I transcribed for string quartet while preparing for my Master's, what feels like a lifetime ago in the summer of 2021.
Finally, I'm hoping to be able to use them as starting points for experiments in more contemporary approaches to harmonisation, as I work my way through Vincent Persichetti'sTwentieth Century Harmony. Case in point: here's a brief re-working of one of the chorales above employing quartal harmony. It's very crude, and the harmony is very blocky and somewhat "parallel", but I think it's a pretty good indication of where this practice might lead me.
My loyal readers (both of you) will have noted my near-complete radio silence over the last few months. 2021 - 2023 was pretty much my most busy year on the DGMFS blog since its inception back in the noughts, with posts mostly covering my progress on my Master's at Surrey. But since January I've written one measly post about ChatGPT and one brief piece on one of my favourite topics, audiation. (In fact, the second was a largely unsuccessful attempt to use ChatGPT4 to write a post for me, and I'll try to get around to writing up that singular experience at some point.) But other than that, nada.
I think that to some extent I was all talked out (or, more accurately, all written out) after finishing the Master's last October, but that's not really it. The nub of it is that my dad died last December, just a week before Christmas, and I've simply found it tough as hell to summon up much enthusiasm for anything at all, much less write about it. At some point, I may write about this in a little more depth, not least as Dad was such a big part of my musical life, but I'm not sure I really feel up to it at the moment.
But for all that, it's been a pretty busy year for me already on the musical front, so I thought I'd re-start my (hopefully more frequent) blogging with a brief round-up of my 2023 so far.
The BGQ hanging out in Hanover Crescent
After a COVID/lockdown-enforced two-year hiatus, the Brighton Guitar Quartet finally made its first public appearance at the tail end of last year, but for the group this year has been very busy. We kicked off with a brief appearance in February's annual Springboard Guitar competition, this year adjudicated by Tim Pells (we were the only entrant in the ensemble category, as it happened, so I guess we kinda "won"). But our first major outing was a full concert (our first with this particular line-up) at St Laurence Church in Falmer in April.
Since then we've made appearances at Hove Library and at a fundraiser at Hounsom Memorial Church in Hannington, alongside the amazing singers Lucy Mair, Daria Robertson and Deirdre Arratoon. In a couple of weeks, we should be appearing at Minfest in Poynings, and have shows lined up in Brighton and Rottingdean later this year. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, my thanks to my bandmates Ruairi, James and Olivier for making it such a laugh, and of course to our musical director Gregg Isaacson for making it all happen.
My other classical guitar ensemble work this year has been with the Bach Band, a (mostly) baroque ensemble led by the fantastic Steve Gordon and featuring a somewhat eccentric lineup of five classical guitars, electric bass and various string and woodwind soloists. The repertoire is centred on Steve's own ingenious arrangements of the Brandenburgs, with Mozart, Corelli and Piazzolla(!) thrown in for good measure. We've done a couple of shows in Hastings and Brighton this year and I hope we do more later in the year as I can honestly say it's amongst the most fun I've ever had playing music live (if occasionally brain-melting).
The view from the cheap seats in Hastings
I suppose I should mention that I graduated from my Master's course at Surrey in April. I've written plenty about it here (including this round-up of my final portfolio) so won't labour it now. The finishing of the programme last year was somewhat overshadowed by not only my own father's death but that of my father-in-law, so it was a relief that the graduation ceremony took place some months later, and it was great to have my wife Sarah, mum, and step-dad and sons Joe and Frank with me to celebrate on the day. I won't write about it in depth here, but it has left me with a lot of questions (Do I pursue an academic path? How to develop my compositional practice?) and the sense of having a lot of remedial work to do (harmony, counterpoint, orchestration, you name it). But like I say, more on that anon. For now, thanks to my teachers on the course - Tom Armstrong, Milton Mermikides, Cameron Graham and Paul Thomas - for all their time and fantastic support. And of course to my fellow students for making it a lot of fun.
What a knob...
I mentioned my, er, "compositional practice" in there. Late last year I joined New Music Brighton, a Sussex-based composers' group, at the suggestion of the violinist Ellie Blackshaw (a fine composer herself) who recorded the viola parts on my chamber piece "Three Poems by Li Bai". The group enlist various small ensembles to perform their work, and my first effort in this department has been a small piece for brass ensemble. Through the group, I also met the composer and teach Peter Copley, from whom I'm now taking harmony lessons (he's currently putting me through my paces harmonising Bach chorales and Victorian hymns... oof). Anyway, here's the brass piece, in midi-rendition:
I actually finished the piece while on a composers' retreat in the French Pyrenees led by a long-time idol, Gavin Bryars and organised by the amazing folks at CAMP. It was quite an amazing experience, and not only an opportunity to get a great insight into Bryars' working methods, but to spend time with other composers at various stages in their development. It was especially great to spend some quality time with my good buddy David Kaplowitz, a fantastic electronica composer, and to hang out with the composer David Lancaster, who gave me a lot of help in writing for brass (and is also a hoot) .
Not a bad place to practice guitar
So that's pretty much it for now, although there's lots of other stuff brewing. I've been rehearsing in a duo with guitarist Paul Dallaway, including working on Reginald Smith Brindle's "The Pillars of Karnak", which as far as we can tell has never been recorded (expect much more here about Sith Brindle over the coming months). Paul and I are also going to be playing in an electric guitar quartet alongside Jon Rattenbury and Bernd Rest, concentrating on contemporary work for that somewhat unusual ensemble lineup. And lastly, I'd really love to get back to doing more work in Undercurrent, the jazz duo I play in with the amazing pianist and polymath (and great friend) Steve Morgan. Steve and I turned in a couple of tunes at our mate Allan's 50th earlier this year (Miles Davis and Link Wray, of course!), and it reminded me how much I miss playing with him.
Finally, a word about my wife, business co-founder and best friend Sarah. Sarah's had a tough year herself, following her dad's death and the logistical and emotional aftermath that comes with it. Yet through it all, she's been endlessly patient and supportive. "I couldn't have done it without her" is something of a cliché, but in every sense it's true.
Oh, and to round it all off, here's a snapshot of some of the music I've been listening to over the last few months. Shuffle away!
So, picture this: you're tucked away in your study (because we all have one of those!), nothing but the music playing in your head and the blank page in front of you. Welcome to the world of 'audiation', or 'inner ear' composition – a process that's had its fair share of fans throughout history. Think Beethoven. He's said to have 'heard' his symphonies before he ever wrote a note. The New Yorker's music critic, Alex Ross, was once quoted saying "the ideal listener is an 'inner ear' listener, who catches on paper sounds he has heard in his head." And let's be honest, there's something quite magical about the whole idea, isn't there? The composer as lightning rod. Or something.
Of course, other composers can't resist the call of an instrument. Bernstein, for instance. He practically lived at the piano, treating it not just as a tool but as a partner in crime. As he said himself: "I can't imagine anyone composing who doesn't play the piano." Something about getting your hands on the keys and making the music there and then... just letting the music emerge serendipitously? Of course, some of us are stuck with composing on the guitar, which really is limiting.
Edwin Gordon's research on audiation really drove home the importance of being able to hear the music in your head for understanding the stuff. He argued it's a crucial part of musical intelligence, playing a big part in how we appreciate and understand music, no matter how it's composed. I certainly got a bit hung up on this last year because in truth audiation is just so bloody hard to develop - at least with any accuracy. My tutor Tom Armstrong suggested that maybe I was fetishising the idea of "the great composer", and I have just referenced Beethoven and Bernstein, so he's on to something). So it's, well, a work in progress. I'm currently working on a short piece for brass quintet and well, I've got a shit ton of ideas in my head, but I'm not sure anything you'd call musical material. I'll keep you posted. Both of you.
I realise it's been quiet around these parts for a while. That's for deeply personal reasons, which I hope to get writing about when I have both the time and the stomach for it. In the meantime, something a little lighter.
I've been following the media fuss around ChatGPT since it all blew up a month or so ago. I remain agnostic on whether it's the breakthrough much cleverer people than me are claiming. Or at least some of them. On that front it's interesting is actually how divided opinion is on the whole thing. Two (admittedly very different) writers I admire seem to be at either end of the spectrum on it. State capacity libertarian Tyler Cowen is pretty boosterish on it. Meanwhile, the fabulously grumpy tech commentator Andrew Orlowski, poured cold water over the whole thing in a great takedown piece on Spiked. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps, The Spectator's literary editor Sam Leith called the AI a "world-class bullshit machine", which made me chuckle.
I thought I'd give it a go, and asked it to tell me about jazz guitarist Pat Metheny's influences. I thought this a tad more, well, mainstream than something about "the importance of Haitian voodoo flag maker Antoine Oleyant", with which Cowen straw-manned the doubters out there. What follows is a transcript of my, er, conversation, but before that, a couple of thoughts.
From a language point of view, it does strike me as impressive, and clearly indicates the direction of travel for AI/ML. In fact, I couldn't help but be drawn into an increasingly chatty exchange with it (as you'll see).
But in a way, that's where the frustration sets in, because it never really "chatted" back. It all felt like talking with a particularly obtuse 12-year-old boy, albeit a remarkably knowledgeable one.
Mostly, to be honest it just felt like getting a sentence-based result back from a search engine, which is, I guess, why Fred Wilson has pointed out that it might have given Google a little to worry about (or buy).
Anyhow, have a read and make your own mind up - or better still, ask it your own daft questions. If nothing else, it's quite fun (and no, I don't get out much).
Pat Metheny is a jazz guitarist who has been active since the mid-1970s. He has been influenced by a wide range of musicians, including jazz greats such as Wes Montgomery, Jim Hall, and Joe Pass. Metheny has also been influenced by classical composers like Maurice Ravel and Johann Sebastian Bach, as well as rock and pop artists like Jimi Hendrix and the Beatles. In addition to these musical influences, Metheny has cited his Midwestern upbringing and the natural beauty of the Missouri landscape as important influences on his music.
Interesting - the influence of Hall and Montgomery is well known. What evidence is there for the influence of Bach and Debussy?
I am not able to browse the internet to find specific evidence of Pat Metheny's influence by Bach and Debussy. However, it is common for jazz musicians to draw inspiration from classical composers, and Metheny has mentioned Bach and Debussy as being among his musical influences in interviews. In jazz, it is often the case that musicians will incorporate elements of various styles and genres into their own music, so it is not surprising that Metheny's work would be influenced by classical composers like Bach and Debussy.
Can you cite those particular influences?
I apologize, but as a large language model trained by OpenAI, I am not able to cite specific sources or provide detailed evidence of Pat Metheny's influences. I am only able to provide information based on my training, which includes general knowledge about Pat Metheny and the world in general. My training does not include the ability to browse the internet or access specific information about Pat Metheny's influences beyond what I have already mentioned.
OK, fair enough. Any ideas about where else I could look?
If you are looking for more information about Pat Metheny's influences, you may want to try searching for interviews or articles that discuss his music and background. Many musicians and artists are willing to talk about their influences and inspirations, and you may be able to find more information by reading interviews or articles that focus on Pat Metheny and his work. Additionally, listening to his music and comparing it to the work of other musicians he has cited as influences can also provide insight into the sources of his inspiration.
Any of his pieces in particular spring to mind?
Pat Metheny is a highly accomplished and prolific musician, and has released many albums and compositions over the course of his career. It would be difficult to identify specific pieces that illustrate his influences, as his music is a unique blend of various styles and influences. However, one album that might provide insight into his influences is "Bright Size Life," which was Metheny's first album as a bandleader and features jazz greats like Jaco Pastorius and Bob Moses. This album is often cited as a defining work in Metheny's career, and showcases his unique blend of jazz, rock, and classical influences.
But that's his first album and is half a century old (or thereabouts)! Nothing more recent come to mind? Or did Metheny stop absorbing influences after his first outing?!
As a large language model trained by OpenAI, I do not have information about Pat Metheny's most recent albums or compositions, as my training data only goes up until 2021. I apologize if my response was not helpful in this regard. Pat Metheny is an active musician and has released many albums and compositions since "Bright Size Life" in 1976. I would recommend listening to his more recent work to get a sense of his current influences and musical style.
OK, thanks. Back to the influence of Montgomery. Can you be more specific about the ways in which the influence manifested itself?
Pat Metheny has cited Wes Montgomery as a major influence on his music. Montgomery was a jazz guitarist who was active in the 1950s and 1960s, and was known for his unique playing style, which featured percussive octave playing and a strong, rhythmic pulse. Metheny has said that he was inspired by Montgomery's ability to create a full, rich sound with just his guitar, and has incorporated elements of Montgomery's playing style into his own music. This can be heard in the way that Metheny uses octave playing and percussive techniques to create a full, dynamic sound on the guitar. Additionally, Metheny has been influenced by Montgomery's melodic approach to improvising and his ability to create compelling solos that draw the listener in.
Very useful, thanks. Any pointers on how a student guitarist might work on those "octave playing and percussive techniques"?
If you are a student guitarist looking to improve your octave playing and percussive techniques, here are a few steps you can take: 1 Listen to recordings of Wes Montgomery and other guitarists who use octave playing and percussive techniques in their playing. Pay attention to the way they use these techniques to create a full, rich sound, and try to mimic what you hear in your own playing. 2 Practice playing octaves and percussive techniques slowly and accurately. Start with simple exercises and gradually increase the difficulty as you improve. 3 Experiment with different playing techniques, such as using your thumb or a pick to play octaves, or using your fingers to create percussive sounds on the guitar. 4 Incorporate octave playing and percussive techniques into your solos and improvisations. Practice soloing over backing tracks and try to incorporate these techniques into your solos in a musical way. 5 Seek out opportunities to play with other musicians who use octave playing and percussive techniques in their playing. This will give you the chance to learn from others and develop your own style. Overall, the key to improving your octave playing and percussive techniques is to practice regularly and be open to trying new things. With time and dedication, you can develop your own unique approach to these techniques.
Any particular jazz guitar method books come to mind?
There are many jazz guitar method books available that can help you improve your octave playing and percussive techniques. Some books that you might find helpful include "Jazz Guitar Solos" by Jim Hall, "Jazz Guitar Solos: Essential Techniques and Patterns" by Corey Christiansen, and "Jazz Guitar Voicings: The Ultimate Guide" by Randy Vincent. These books provide exercises, tips, and examples that can help you develop your octave playing and percussive skills, and can serve as valuable resources as you work on improving your playing. Additionally, you may want to consider taking lessons with a jazz guitar teacher who can provide personalized guidance and feedback as you work on these techniques.
OK - very helpful. That's it for now. Might check in with you soon about Bill Frisell!
I would be happy to help with any questions you have about Bill Frisell in the future. As a large language model trained by OpenAI, I have been trained on a wide range of general knowledge and can provide information on a variety of topics. If you have any other questions in the meantime, feel free to ask and I will do my best to assist you.
