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The Rhythm Of Prog
When people think of ‘prog’ they don’t think of an aesthetic, they think of a beat. Well DUHHHHH! And when you further think about it, every style of popular music is defined by it’s basic beat.
I’ve been thinking about ‘prog’ as if it were ‘classical’ or even ‘jazz’ where it’s the process more than anything else that defines the music. But we’re talking about ROCK, baby. So people have expectations that are like popular styles.
And judged in that way? A lot of my stuff sure as shit ain’t prog. In fact, if one listens to it like a normal person, it’s largely this amalgamation of 80′s power pop, funk, glam and rockabilly—with some prog stuff in there (the odd 6/8 and 7/4 beat) to keep one’s cape flappin’ in the breeze.
This has further driven me over the edge in my desire to steer the musical boat back to shore.
Giddyup!
Now what is the quintessential prog beat? Like good porn, I can’t tell ya, but… it sure feels a lot like a waltz to me (as if porn ever had a ‘waltz’ soundtrack.) But by that I mean (as I alluded above) all ya gotta do to evoke the gods of prog is to start playing something with a ‘three’ feel. Slow? You sound like Yes or Gentle Giant (‘Heart Of The Sunrise’.) Faster? Any number of tunes by Rush, Genesis and even Led Zeppelin (Immigrant Song.) In short, if it gallops? It’s probably in the realm of prog.
Am I A Believer?
When I think of the stuff I do that feels the most ‘prog’, Oceans Below (Superpower) always comes to mind. And, true to the formula, it starts in a loping 6/8. But then for the big smash-hit finish? I switched to a groove I clearly lifted from The Monkees Papa Gene’s Blues. On crack.
My natural bent is so ‘pop’ (and so retro-pop) that I can’t even space out correctly.
As I’ve been saying, I’m determined to get back to the whole ‘prog’ ethos. But for me it is an ethos and not a ‘beat’. I was drawn to prog groups not because of the time signature or groove, but rather because they were attempting to combine many styles together that I happen to like.
Here in Seattle, ‘fusion cuisine’ has been all the rage for quite some years. When it works? When it’s done by someone who really knows what they’re doing? Combining bacon and ice cream or licorice and fish are fantastic ideas. When it’s not; and when they don’t? Oy. My guess is that there are a lot more recipes that taste as you’d expect licorice on fish to taste than actually taste good. Because let’s face it: it’s licorice. On fish.
Prog is like that. It really takes a lot to make it work. So more often than not, it fails. And when it fails, it’s quite the joke. But like fusion cuisine, I can’t pin it down as having one characteristic beat (or flavour.) Because if it had that? It wouldn’t be fusion anymore.
Food For Thought?
My goal for the next round of material is to do what prog should do, but not worry so much about whether or not it gallops or uses a mellotron or whatever other conventions are usually ascribed to it stylistically. But at the same time, I’m mindful that if one sounds too ‘pop’ or ‘funk’ or whatever then one is probably straying off course. Because that means you’re ignoring the fact that it’s a fusion.
I still like Oceans Below because I think it succeeded in this regard. It fused a number of styles together in a fashion that I still like. And for me, the playing (guitars, drums, bass) has the energy I used to feel from some of my fave prog groups—even if it isn’t doesn’t exactly ‘gallop’ but rather takes that last train to Clarksville.
As I get ready to start pounding again, I’m going to be more careful to adhere to that fusion of styles—which starts at bedrock with the beat. But will that beat be more ‘classically’ prog as a lot of people hear it in their heads? I doubt it. But I sure hope it’s a lot more to the material than can be summed up as ‘oh that’s a funk tune’ or ‘that’s a pop tune’ or any one word description. If the drumming is truly interesting? It’ll take at least two hyphens to describe what’s goin’ on.
*EBF: East Butt Fuck. The Boonies. Green Acres.
Putting The Anal Back In Analog
Sorry I’ve been out of the loop. I’ve had an ongoing battle with pneumonia and bronchitis that hasn’t let up since Christmas.
I played the absolute worst recording session of my life a couple of weeks ago, with a guy who does a type of music unique to himself (in the Seattle area anyway.) It’s so unique in fact that, were I to mention even the genre to you, I would unmask myself before him and thereby ruin our relationship. (How’s that for some bush league, soap opera cloak and dagger!) But he’s about the nicest guy I can imagine and I actually like the genre he works in a bunch. Therefore, his identity shall forever remain a secret!
And yet, Dear Reader, I feel I must comment on his approach to music because it’s so, so, so… wrong.
He begins the recording process by creating very detailed mock ups of his music in a computer, using synthesizers as his sound sources. He makes sure that every nuance he wants played is electronically ‘recorded’. So far this is not at all unusual. Most every movie composer works that way these days—they create everything in the computer and then, if necessary, then print out notation for ‘real’ musicians to play the parts. This guy does something similar. But since he does not read music, he gives an MP3 of his songs to the ‘real’ players he hires and asks them to re-create what is on the sound files. But that’s where the similarity ends.
When a big shot Hollywood composer writes out a part for a cue, say bass, drum set or guitar, he rarely and I mean rarely notates much beyond the bare necessities. Why? Because it’s just a given that you’re hiring the player for their ‘humanity’—the special ‘zing’ that having a real player brings to the table that no ‘sample’ or synthesizer can duplicate. And I’m not talking about wild solos. I’m talking about the entire part. It’s normal to simply let the ‘non-orchestral’ players simply create their own parts. I’ve been given whole cues where the only ‘notation’ was
Why? Because a long time ago composers figured out that the average studio player can come up with something better than they can—after all, the average player has worked his/her entire life to know how to come with a cool groove and tasteful fills. All one really needs to do is wind them up and let them do what they do best.
Now what this guy does, however, is as I said, ask his players to re-create precisely what is on his MP3. Note for note. Inflection for inflection. In fact, during recording, he listens to his version of your part in one ear of his headphones and your playing in the other; to make sure they match precisely. If not? We do another take. Or he uses the magic of editing to cut/paste the part until it truly matches.
In addition to the life-sapping feeling of being literally ‘audited’ for correctness while recording, the fact that he consider his parts to be the ne plus ultra of parts makes one feel like an automaton.
Now, why does he pay good money for this rigamarole? Because the genre of music he does demands it. Or rather, his potential customers want to know that real people played on the record. It would be disastrous if customers thought that electronics were in use. (Lots of genres are like this. Not too many folk records are done on synths, right?) But whether or not it actually sounds ‘human’? Evidently, he could care less. He treats his songs as if they were scores by Schubert and they must be executed with that precision.
The closest I have ever come to this in mindset is the music of Raymond Scott. This was a tremendously creative guy who wrote great music in the thirties and forties. He wanted a very mechanical sound and he got it by rehearsing his players over and over to get that distinctly precise sound. You’ve heard his stuff in many, many cartoons and loved it in that context although he meant for it to be much, much more. So as soon as synthesizers became available in the fifties he started writing for them because that was the sound he had always wanted. In fact, he was so enamoured of the possibilities of creative control that he built many of his own devices in his machine shop! In other words, Scott was trying to get people to play more like machines. But then when machines came along that could do more of what he wanted? He started using those. Fair enough. He had no interest in a human sound so his approach makes perfect sense.
What my friend/contractor does, however, is quite the opposite. He takes music that should have real organic goodness, that he wants to have really humanity and tries to direct just the humanity he wants in every note. But in this pursuit of precision, he sucks the humanity right out of it. He treats his arrangements with a preciousness that would define hubris—if his work mattered to enough people, that is.
It feels like hiring organic farmers to run a machine that makes white bread—just so you could say ‘made by organic farmers!’ It’s a bit of a stretch just for that bit of marketing ‘truth’.
I used to believe that there was one true and ineffable rendition of a song; or orchestration of a piece of music; that constituted perfection. And once achieved, that version should then be left unchanged for eternity. I developed this idea in music school after seeing how hard Beethoven and Brahms struggled to get just the right version of even one movement of a string quartet. Now I know better. There can be many ‘alternate takes’ that are just as fulfilling and it’s a fool’s errand to try to choose one over the other based on what ‘posterity’ will think. There is no posterity; only what seems right at the time. If time validates that choice? That probably means you were good. If not? It means you shoulda been selling insurance. Oh well.
One thing I’ve re-learned from this experience is this: When you hire professionals to do any job? Let ‘em do their job. Not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because, you’ll likely end up with a lot better product.
