Skip to main content

Subjective reflective.

I was feeling especially musical last night, so I went through all my old music. Scraps of old songs that I had arranged or written. Folders of sheet music. Pages of lyrics and chord charts. It was interesting to see how many projects I had started and abandoned. And how many I'd actually finished and then abandoned.

More interesting, though, was how much it all changed over time. They started off as simple songs. A couple chord changes, end. Then more chord changes got added. More complexity. Riffs, written out. Lyrics. But it was all very formulaic. Two verses, chorus, two verses, bridge, chorus, end. Or maybe a slight variation of that. Two verses, chorus, bridge, one verse, chorus, end. Simple, constricting rhyme schemes. Forced lyrics.

I could go on.

But there were lapses in the record. A couple months of nothing, and suddenly something new. Something better. Matured. And so I traced it all to the present. It was a fun exercise, trying to match the stylistic changes and advances with new music that I'd found and such. Interesting.

However, the most interesting thing was how the concept for what was good and what was bad changed. Some elbow room was introduced to the idea of good music. Wrong notes, wrong rhythms. They're okay. Perfection is a vague idea that doesn't belong in music, I think. You can strive for it in classical, but you'll never quite get there. You can be the most technically able musician in the world, but if your music doesn't move you then what's the point? Music shouldn't be a chore. Where's the fun in trying to make something perfect when it shouldn't be?

Some people think music is something that improves life. Makes it bearable. They're wrong. Music is life, and life is imperfect. It's an idea that I think I'm finally starting to accept. There's always something to improve, which is a roundabout way of saying there's another way to play it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Past the butterfly wall.

Spontaneous pneumothorax is a collection of air or gas in the space between the lungs and the chest that "collapses" the lung and prevents it from inflating completely.  Spontaneous means there is no traumatic injury to the chest or lung.   There are two types of spontaneous pneumothorax: primary and secondary. Primary spontaneous pneumothorax occurs in people without lung disease. It occurs most often in tall, thin, young people. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket but I can't answer it. We are in the middle of rehearsal. It is not an uncommon event. We continue to play. The strap of my saxophone cuts into my neck. The nylon is rough against my skin. I look out of place. Everyone else is dressed casually; shorts, shirts, shoes optional. There I stand, a button down shirt and slacks. I'm entitled to dress up a little. It's my birthday. My phone vibrates again. I always used to roll my eyes whenever I saw those scenes in movies. The phone call. The bad news....

Pseudo-science (like psych).

I consider myself a man of science. I try to approach problems and deal with them logically, using observations previously recorded to handle new problems. So of course my interest was piqued when someone I knew posited that men are needier and more complicated than women. An interesting theory. But to properly examine it, one must understand the concept of sexual selection and its two aspects: male competition and female choice. Which brings us to point one: men are needier [in relationships] than women. This is true. In a natural/primal setting, the males are generally love-'em-leave-'em kinds of guys. Their main objective is to reproduce as much as they can. Humans, in their infinite wisdom, have decreased the emphasis on this to the point where it has become a footnote in male purpose. Civilization dictates that, instead of finding a partner for the sole purpose of reproduction, males find females for life companionship. With the effective removal of their natur...

I'm a geologist, not an alcoholic.

I thought I had seen people drink before. Hell, I thought that I had drank before. But, clearly, I thought wrong on both of those counts. I cannot, for the life of me, think of a reason to justify all of the drinking that transpired down there last week. There was no rhyme or reason to it, it just was. Field work just makes a man thirsty. Taking this class was easily one of the best things I've ever done. We worked hard every day out in the field. Wake up at 7, leave the beach house by 8, hit the water by 9. My first three field days were in service on the R/V Acadiana , a 58 foot vessel that towed the CHIRP fish , the air gun, and the streamer to measure all the seismic data--looking at the subsurface of the seafloor we drove over. My second ship was the R/V Itasca using the multibeam , sidescan , and grab sampler --getting seafloor surface bathymetry. They were long, exhausting days and we returned to the docks around 6 or 7 every evening. And then, drinking. So much ...