There are many reasons to listen to Steely Dan, and today I'll be giving you one of them. On June 24, I suggested listening to Jim Hall's guitar comping on the recording of "I've Got You Under My Skin" that he did with Bill Evans. In trying to describe it, I mentioned the concept of chord voicings, which is central to the art of jazz guitarists and pianists. The movement of the accompaniment is a large part of the feeling of openness and freedom in jazz music. It is too seldom heard in rock music, where often the same voicing is played in a monotonous manner (but to be fair, that approach is often necessary to its energy and drive). One rock song where the creative use of voicings can be heard is "Hey Nineteen", from Gaucho (1980). There are two guitar tracks as well as an electric piano, and I'm not sure who plays what (there are at least six guitarists and over forty musicians on the album), but it's a real treat to listen to. As Becker and Fagen always seem to do, they incorporate the best aspects of jazz (and soul and reggae and other genres as well) into their rock and roll. I'll be writing much more about them in the days ahead. In the meantime, if you haven't attentively listened to this song and album, you've got something to look forward to.

On June 18, I mentioned that listening to a track several times is very important in terms of appreciating jazz. To go even further, it is a most informative and enjoyable plan to listen to the same artist playing the same piece several times. At the very end of Bill Evans' life, he performed at the Keystone Korner in San Francisco for nine nights (from August 31 to September 8, 1980 - he died on September 15). The performances that he gave are among the greatest in jazz history, and most of them were released in 2000 as The Last Waltz: The Final Recordings. (The only thing to dislike about the release is the title - it's not original. I'll be writing about The Band on another occasion, by the way.) It is an eight-CD set, and every piece is worth hearing, but what I'd like to recommend today is to listen to the performances of the piece entitled, "Nardis". It was one of Evans' favourites and is on the album six (!) times. It is a Miles Davis composition and a fascinating piece of music, with unusual interchanges between E major and minor. (Come to think of it, it is probably time to stop defining keys as major or minor - today there is such free mixture of the two that it can actually be misleading. Incidentally, one of the big characteristics of jazz is that there is nearly always more than one thing going on at a time - melodically, rhythmically, and as in this case, harmonically.) The musicians, Evans with bassist Marc Johnson and drummer Joe LaBarbera, knowing the song so well, play with unbelievable freedom, creativity, sophistication, intelligence, knowledge. You'll be adding your own descriptions once you hear it.

Recording engineers of days gone by used to often collect and pass around surreptitiously taped studio sessions. Most of them involve tantrums, shouting matches or the like. One of the most well-known of these is a session wherein The Troggs are working on a follow-up to their no. 1 smash, "Wild Thing". What made it memorable is the fact that it becomes very clear very quickly that the band have no idea (or virtually no idea) what they are doing, nor how to follow up on their mega-hit. A major freak-out ensues. One of the main problems is the fact that the drummer does not seem to understand his role: he doesn't know the difference between rhythm and meter (see June 18 post). If you listen to "Wild Thing", this is apparent - he is playing the same accents and rhythms as the guitar. The irony is that an experienced drummer would have never thought of doing this. Of course, it adds to the garage rock charm of the song. And it wasn't contrived: This was the band doing its best. (To their credit, they improved over time - as all bands do.) What interests me the most about this is the fact that "Wild Thing" has been heard many, many more times by many more people than Concerto for Orchestra. I'm not saying this is necessarily a bad thing - I like "Wild Thing" a lot. And, like a surprising amount of garage rock, it has real staying power. But the big question that all of this brings up, for me at least, is: What are people trying to get from music? Of the two pieces mentioned today, why is "Wild Thing" known by far more people?

Hi. Today I'd like to direct your attention to perhaps my very favourite piece of music: Concerto for Orchestra by Bela Bartok. A concerto, you may or may not know, is a large-scale piece that features one instrument with, and in opposition to, the rest of the orchestra. This one, as you can tell from the title, doesn't focus on one particular instrument, but rather on many of them. It is very important to understand the characteristics of the different instruments for a better appreciation of music, by the way: listening to this piece can help in that regard a great deal. The first movement is in "first-movement form", more often known as "sonata form". The basic concept of this form is that there are two theme groups (or melodies with variation), played one at a time, and then mixed together (usually in several different keys) in the development section, and then reprised in the recapitulation. This is a very simplified description, but that's the essence of the form. (On another occasion, I will be writing about how I believe this form was an influence on the blues. But that's for another day.) The second movement features groups of wind instruments in contrapuntal melodies (built from different intervals) with amazing rhythmic variety. The third movement is astonishing in both its originality and imagery - incredibly, it seems to contain scenes of aerial warfare. The fourth movement is known for its humour and use of parody. The fifth is a study in energy and motion through the use of music - physicists should study it (and maybe they do).
One of the characteristics of Bartok's work was his profound belief in the importance of folk melody. (He was an ethnomusicologist before the word existed.) He felt that the center of music was its use in day-to-day life. In this piece, one can hear the influence of the songs of the people that he encountered in his travels as a young man. The piece as a whole is a tribute to their lives and music, as well as one of the greatest orchestral masterpieces.

"A composition comes as a single gesture which is already, in essence, music. The path to this is hard; you descend to the lowest spiritual plane, the bottom of the world, not knowing what will be found. The only thing you know is that you don't know anything. If this gesture, like a seed, takes root, it must be cultivated with extreme care so that it may grow; meanwhile you are oscillating between heaven and earth. The compositional task is to find the appropriate system for the gesture. It is one's capacity for suffering that gives the energy to create." - Arvo Part
I've always felt that the above was one of the most useful comments on the creative process. It gives us insight into what life is like for an artist: Imagine going to work in a new place every day and then returning to a different home every evening - psychologically, that is what a creative artist goes through. It also prepares us for the type of mindset that is necessary to create.
In music, the compositional process is a fascinating one. It is not to be confused with the study or application of music theory. One thinks of grammar after one has written, not before or during. Therefore, no musical "training" of any kind is necessary to participate in writing music. All that is required is some means of recording ideas (and there are many sources of help in this area), and the patience to let those ideas develop. And, of course, lots and lots of listening.
Which brings us back to Radiohead. In rock music, there is a tendency to indulge in a shortcut that almost invariably leads to poor results: the use of chords and/or chord progressions as starting points. A chord is a sonorous, stable structure of at least two, and usually more, notes. But to start with a chord is to make an assumption. Chords are better thought of as targets than as starting points. That is to say, music wants to move from points of tension (or dissonance) towards points of rest (or chords). The composer must think in great detail - note by note - to get the most natural or logical movement of each part. To think in chords is to apply music theory at a point much too early in the process. One way of working is to play the part that one has already and then to sing (or hear) the part or parts that are still required. This will ensure that the music is personal (in the sense that it comes from a person) and avoids cliches - like chords can often be. The best composers have always understood this. Radiohead are in this category, and as I mentioned yesterday, they show a way forward for rock music. Sometimes we hear statements such as, "Everything has already been done" or "There will never be original music again". Not true: as it has always been, original music will be very demanding to write and play, but the truth is that very little has been done, and that there is a universe of music still to be discovered, enjoyed, and put to use. Listening: "Street Spirit (Fade Out)", "Knives Out", "Dollars & Cents", "There There", "Reckoner".

Some people argue that Radiohead is the most important rock act in the last twenty years. Peter Gabriel, for one, has said something to that effect. I would concur. There are many reasons to be fascinated by this band, and I will be writing about a lot of them as we go along. But the most important quality of their music is rarely discussed: the way it is written. (As a matter of fact, the largest determining factor for the way any music sounds is the way it is written.) Rarely in rock do artists make large strides in compositional technique. This group did.
The evolution of their music is easy to hear if one listens to their albums chronologically. The breakthrough album (for this listener anyway) was their 1997 release, OK Computer. On the first listen, it is almost immediately clear that there is something very different happening on this entire recording, and it all stems from the process that the music went through as it was being composed. (I recommend Alex Ross' August 20, 2001 article for The New Yorker, entitled "The Searchers: Radiohead's Unquiet Revolution" for a lengthier discussion of this process.) Essentially, the first drafts of the songs are written and introduced to the band by Thom Yorke. They are then revamped by Jonny Greenwood (an accomplished classical composer as well as one of the band's guitarists), and then each member of the band is given the responsibility of writing his own part. It is not uncommon for the band to work on a song for over a year before recording a final version, which is very rare in pop or rock music. The result is music that is both unified and varied. Virtually every one of their songs is an individual creation of great originality and depth.
It's my contention that this way of working has shown a way forward for rock music, because it is based on the concept of counterpoint, rather than building through chord progressions. More on this tomorrow. Suggested listening: "Paranoid Android", "Sail to the Moon", "Weird Fishes".

The role of the guitar in popular music is often misunderstood. There is a tendency to confuse virtuosity with the number of notes played. (This happens with other instruments as well - see the earlier discussion of Ringo and The Beatles.) Therefore, lead guitar gets all the attention, and the instrument's importance as a rhythmic contributor is not properly appreciated. More than any other instrument, the history of twentieth-century popular music has been shaped by the guitar. Its portability and the fact that bent strings can emulate vocalists are two large factors in its centrality to blues music. The fact that it is polyphonic and can be played with infinite rhythmic variety makes it a sort of halfway point between the piano and drums, and therefore perfect for jazz. Try to imagine country music without the guitar. Now try it with rock and roll.
Over the next little bit, I'll be writing about some guitarists and recordings that deserve more appreciation. Today, the topic is Jim Hall's playing on "I've Got You Under My Skin", from the album Intermodulation, recorded with Bill Evans. The performance begins with Hall soloing over the song's long form. (Cole Porter had the ability to write pieces with long forms that somehow retained their unity. Listen to "Begin the Beguine", for another example.) In jazz, this is unusual, as the head (i.e. the melody) is nearly always played before the improvising starts. Hall understood this and made certain that the listener could clearly hear the tune throughout his solo, and yet what he plays is entirely original. When Bill Evans takes over after one pass through the form (a "chorus", in Musician), Hall's accompaniment is astonishing. Someone once said of the Hall of Fame catcher Johnny Bench: "When he throws the ball, everyone in baseball drools." Well, this is such a moment for guitarists. The swing, the touch, the voicings (the different locations and inversions in which a chord can be played on a guitar or a keyboard), the time-feel. It's simply exquisite. According to legend, when Evans died at the age of fifty-one in 1980, many musical tributes were paid at his funeral. But the one that sent everyone to tears was Jim Hall playing the chords to "I've Got You Under My Skin", as they listened to the beauty of what was there and realized the beauty of what had been lost.

David Johansen is the lyricist of the New York Dolls, and on the evidence of One Day It Will Please Us to Remember even This (from 2006) and 'Cause I Sez So (2009), he may be the most sophisticated one working in rock today. The quality that is the most central in artistic writing is usefulness - the way the best words come back again and again in all the different situations that make up a life. The greatest writers are the ones that have things of import to say and say them in memorable ways. Johansen's lyrics are varied in subject, tone (by which I mean the writer's attitude toward the subject and toward him or herself), diction, and technical content. Sometimes, they show the effect of difficult experience. For example, "I Ain't Got Nothing" is an entirely believable description of the destitution experienced by so many rock and rollers. (This is not an area that many rock lyricists want to explore - it won't sell.) They contain great humour ("Dance like a monkey" opens with the line, "You designed so intelligent/ Ain't no way that was an accident." "Better than You" begins, "My baby, don't talk nasty about her/ You ain't even got no class/ I'm gonna kick your ass." Of course, I'm taking it out of context. You have to hear it to really get it.)
He understands the importance of romance (in its broadest sense). Listen to the awesomely beautiful "Temptation to Exist" for proof. He has the rare ability to juxtapose high and low (or "mean") diction for all sorts of effects: "Better than You" quoted above, also contains lines such as, "My baby got mystical frenzy/ Tempered by an irony/ Verging on blasphemy."
This brings me to the final point of this discussion: Johansen's ability to see events on several different levels at once, i.e. the physical, the emotional, the intellectual, the spiritual. Songs such as "Lonely so Long" or "Maimed Happiness" work perfectly in several ways, simultaneously. They deal with the complexities of life with complete honesty, but in Auden's words, "show an affirming flame". Listening: You guessed it.

For those of us who were fans of the New York Dolls back in the seventies, their recent (triumphant) return to touring and recording feels like vindication. We were right all along! The Dolls of the seventies were about much more than music. They were crucial parts of the pipeline that kept American music important and dangerous: from Robert Johnson to Elvis and Little Richard to Dylan to the Velvets. From the MC5 to The Dolls to the Ramones. (Something like that, anyway.) The Dolls rough, energetic take on rock, R&B and pop was (and still is) amazing. Led by the volatile guitar prodigy Johnny Thunders (perhaps the most influential punk guitarist) and the charismatic, powerfully-voiced David Johansen, the Dolls took a big-picture outlook on music and life. Their rawness as a band became part of the message: the point of music is to participate. Of course, one can extrapolate that to life, and they did. The band lived almost entirely for the moment, and like all great rockers came down squarely in favour of human freedom, whatever the cost.
You can read up on their history elsewhere. Here, I want to begin discussing the astonishing fact that the band has accomplished the unthinkable feat of releasing two brilliant, ragged, influential albums in the early seventies, and then returning after over thirty (!) years to release two more. At the heart of their recent success is the fact that these albums contain some of the most poignant, wise, funny and thought-provoking lyrics ever written. Tune in tomorrow for my attempt to convince you of that.

The Rolling Stones are under-appreciated as lyricists. The recently released remastered version of Exile on Main Street brought this fact to my attention again. The album is wonderful musically - most people consider it their apex, but lyrically, it's a masterpiece. It's a deeply imagined tour through dirty roads, Union Halls, ballrooms, smelly bordellos, with songs such as "Tumbling Dice", with lyrics like, "Honey, got no money, I'm all sixes and sevens and nines", or "I'm the lone crapshooter playing the field every night". Come on. We know that "Sweet Black Angel" has Angela Davis awaiting an upcoming trial as its subject, but who is the narrator? He seems to be some sort of Huck Finn-type character facing down racism on his own and turning his back on the wrong things he'd learned. Amazing.
One of the record's main themes is the cost of the bohemian lifestyle, how good times have a price. There is real wisdom and empathy in songs like "Shine a Light", "Sweet Virginia", and the incomparable "Let it Loose". Contrast the tone and content of these songs with earlier ones, such as "Live with Me" or "Brown Sugar". By the way, the album also contains some of their most exuberant rock and roll. "Rip this Joint", "All Down the Line", "Happy", and "Rocks Off" are musical thrill-rides. Wicked good.
But back to the lyrics. One of the most remarkable things is the way they contain utterly convincing images of rural poverty ("Torn and Frayed", "Ventilator Blues", "Loving Cup"). It's like rock and roll Faulkner. Don't forget that the band's existence was very far away from anything like what they were describing. They had essentially been living in velvet cages since their early twenties, and their only contact with the authenticity that it appears they yearned for was through music and words. Of course, that can be enough. They proved it on this album.

Just a short note today: I'm going to elaborate a bit more extensively on the following topic (and others, as well) in the upcoming week: The Rolling Stones vs. The New York Dolls in terms of lyrical content. As musicians, the Stones were more advanced than the Dolls during the Seventies. But the Dolls' greatness came partly from their amateurish sound. In rock and roll, and in other styles, the listener is more inspired by the effort of someone trying to move up in terms of expression rather than moving down (or "slumming") stylistically. It can be very exciting to hear a person learning right in front of you. Ergo, for musicians to be honest, they must always be on the vanguard of their abilities. But I digress.
The Dolls made two brilliant albums in the Seventies, and recently returned (the two surviving members along with the spirit of the others, with great contributions from new members) with two albums of equal stature and importance. (If you haven't heard them yet, go and listen to them immediately.) The musicianship on the third and fourth albums, benefiting as they do from older ears and years of experience, is much stronger than on the first two. But that sense of wild discovery found on the earlier records is thrilling to hear, as well. Anyway, you've probably guessed today's suggested listening: New York Dolls (1973), The New York Dolls in Too Much Too Soon (1974), One Day It Will Please Us to Remember Even This (2006), 'Cause I Sez So (2009), and Exile on Main Street (1972).

It seems that one way that I'll be working in this space is to mention something in passing and then to revisit it later. Today, that's exactly what I'll be doing. 1. I mentioned John Lennon's remark regarding Ringo, and it certainly fits right in with the many baffling statements that he made, but I want to also mention that Lennon is among the very greatest singers that rock and roll ever produced. He sang in tune, with tremendous power and emotion, and no affectation. Not many singers can have that said about them. The Beatles were primarily a vocal group. They wanted to be singers, not instrumentalists looking for settings upon which to improvise. And singers they were. There's not a group to this day that can sing with them. Certain versions of Rubber Soul can be listened to without the backing instrumentation (by panning to one side) - highly recommended. Also, listen to the backup vocal entry on "Hey Jude". Right on the laces (sorry, been watching too much World Cup).
One way of seeing the Beatles' story is to consider the way the group evolved from being John's band to Paul's. Evidence: Beatles for Sale vs. Abbey Road. Then of course, there was the emergence of George, and the fact that he wrote and sang some of the greatest Beatles songs. But that's for another day. All in all, a very interesting group. There is much to be learned from thoughtfully listening to them.
2. At another point, I mentioned pop music being played by machines these days. And most of it is. But that is not to say that technology and machinery can't be used to create incredibly interesting music. One group that has held my attention for a long time is Autechre. This duo proves that with technology, very original music (which could not be made any other way, and perhaps that's the difference between pre-fabricated pop and serious electronic music) can be produced. The influence that they have had on Radiohead (and other groups) is easy to hear ("Myxomatosis" is a good example, cf. "Eutow" from Tri Repetae). The machinery allows them to set up very complex rhythms and then to "play" over them. You can clearly hear that the music is being played by a duo and not a solitary composer, as well. Listening: Amber (1994) and Quaristice (2008).

Happy Friday. Knowing the difference between meter and rhythm is important in hearing music more deeply. Basically, the meter is the graph paper and the rhythm is the graph. In most popular music, the drums keep the meter and everything else lays rhythm over it. It's very easy to hear in reggae music. By the way, Jonny Greenwood Is the Controller is a wonderful reggae compilation, and the first track, Linval Thompson's "Dread Are the Controller" is great for an example of what we're discussing. The rhythms in reggae bass are at the center of what makes the music exciting. The drums and especially the guitar are used more on the meter side of things.
In jazz, the roles are kind of reversed. There, the bass has the primary metrical responsibility and the drummer is very free to play all types of very sophisticated rhythms.
Some thoughts on jazz listening: 1. Listen to a track several times. There is a tendency to listen to many tracks once each when listening to music. This is not a good approach, particularly for jazz, where the listener must become very familiar with the main melody and its structure to hear what the musicians are playing on it. 2. Concentrate on the performance of one instrument. Listen to it in relation to the melody (or "head", in Musician), and then to one or more of the other instruments. 3. Listen to the way jazz musicians can generate tremendous excitement and power even while playing at very low volumes. Suggested listening: Everybody Digs Bill Evans (featuring Philly Joe Jones on drums and Sam Jones on bass).

Howdy. Further to yesterday's discussion: The ability to maintain tempo, even as intensity rises or falls, is much more difficult than it sounds. It's a bit like the way that draftsmen can draw very straight lines freehand - much practice required. The greatest musicians in any style are always the ones with this quality. Glenn Gould, Jimi Hendrix, James Jamerson, John Coltrane, Ringo Starr. You can hear it in the music. The spaces between the notes are beautiful, thrilling, awe-inspiring. The difficulty in finding musicians capable of playing like this has unfortunately led to pop music essentially being played by machines. This might pass for a while - i.e. the time it takes for teenagers to buy a product en masse, make people famous, etc. but ultimately music made this way will not have the staying power of music played by humans.
So back to the Stones - to their credit, they know how good Charlie is, and at their best, they play with him. When they run into trouble, they don't. Sometimes, the band starts very strongly and then gets a bit out of control ("rushes", in Musician) as the track goes along. Sometimes they don't lock in with him at all.
On the Stones' website, there's a video of Charlie talking about jazz drumming, where he discusses, almost apologetically, the fact that what he knows he learned from copying, and he speaks with the humility found in all great musicians. But this is how all serious musicians learn. One of the paradoxes involved in music, and the other arts as well, is that the more copying someone has done, the more originality they end up contributing. (For a literary parallel, read T.S. Eliot's "Tradition and the Individual Talent".) This also leads to the aforementioned humility.
Suggested listening: "Bitch", "A Day in the Life", "Little Wing", "My Favorite Things","Ain't No Mountain High Enough" (Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell), The Goldberg Variations 1981 (cf. 1955).

Hi. This blog is about listening to music. The focus is on the listener, not the artist. It's about getting as much as possible out of music.
Here goes: Topic for consideration and/or discussion: Great rock bands have several things in common. First among these things - a great drummer. Led Zeppelin, Radiohead, the Beatles (by the way, if you are among those who don't think that Ringo Starr is a great drummer: 1. You're wrong. 2. Listen to the placement of the snare on "Lovely Rita". It's so beautifully behind the beat, and he holds it there - that is, his sense of tempo is almost unerring. Among musicians, this is known as having "great time." Much more on this as we go. 3. He is known as someone who almost never makes a mistake in the studio. Think of how many great takes have been wasted by playing errors. Not by Ringo. 4. Listen to the drum entry on "Hey Jude". 5. Do you really think that the three other Beatles and George Martin wouldn't have noticed that the drummer on all those tracks wasn't good? 6. Disregard John's statement about Ringo not being the best drummer in the Beatles. That was John being "iconoclastic" or, if you prefer, "idiotic". He was - by a mile.), and of course, the Stones. With all due respect, etc., Charlie is the best musician in the band. I very much doubt that they would have been famous without him. Suggested listening: "Let it Loose", "Love in Vain", "Jigsaw Puzzle".