
gecko zzed
Grumpy Mod
This thread was triggered by some comments in another post about carpenters tools. The thrust of those comments was that creativity is the important thing, and that tools (i.e. the recording technology) are just tools. My response was:
I then moved on to another thread, where I saw this remark:
I am currently involved in a recording project with a group of women who have written collectively about twelve songs dwelling broadly on the conditions of women in early colonial Tasmania. Their ideas are good, but their translation into music is not. This group has a strong interest in and passion for detailing life in that era, and that is reflected in the quality of their lyrics. They have good writing skills. But their musicianship has limitations. The main writer plays guitar, but basically only about three chords (you know, the G C D kind of thing). The others accompany on recorder (really nicely played) and cello (competent, but not outstanding), and the occasional piano (also quite good). This pallette of instruments should produce some great combinations and a variety of textures . . . but it doesn't. Instead the music is dull, tedious, very basic, and importantly, doesn't reflect the range of emotions inherent in the lyrics, which range from tragedy to bawdy.It all sounds very, well, 'churchy'.
There is criticism implied in my preceding remarks, but though I am expressing my view of their musicianship, I am not really critical. And the reason is that they are working with what they have. They can't do more than that. Their musical heritage, knowledge and skill is such that what they are creating is the best they can do. They really can't be faulted for that. It's like me trying to build a coffee table with my hammer, rusty saw and limited joinery skills. I'll get it built as best I can, but it will end up with uneven legs and I wouldn't go near it with a cup of cofee. But no-one should fault me if all I have are some worn out tools and less-than-average ability. That's all I have and that's the best I can do with what I have. I just won't be able to sell the coffee table to anyone. (They'd have adequate cause to find fault if I had a shed-full of first class tools and several wordworking diplomas . . . and despite that, produce a dodgy table!).
Diverdown made an extremely important observation: "it just sounds better in my head as this point". This is important for two reasons:
1 it reveals the difficulties we experience when we can imagine what it should sound like, but are unable to convert the idea into form. This is really frustrating. There are things that contribute to this inability: we lack the necessary tools to convert ideas into sound (we can't play, or don't have access to, the instruments needed to create the sound, we lack the ability to play or sing well enough, or we lack the technology or its mastery); and
2 it reveals that there is an element of dissatisfaction with what has been produced, and that element is what can push us towards achieving greater things (though I agree that it can also push us to give up altogether).
Back to the recording project. The women approached me to see whether I could help. They wanted to record the material, but importantly, they recognised that what they had created was not really what was in their heads. They sought my help with producing the material because they were aware that I had some ability in this area. I'm conscious that this might sound like bragging, but I don't intend it to be. I, too, work with what I've got. It just so happens that I've got a slightly larger arsenal of musical and technological skills than they have.That's no big deal. It's like . . . some people can run a mile in under four minutes, others can't . . . that's just the way it is. Those who can't aren't diminished by not being able to do so.
I started paying guitar when I was about 16. I was writing songs soon after. My playing was crap, my songs were crap, but I thought they were wonderful at the time because my brain was supplying all the extras needed to make them sound good. Over the years my musical horizons started broadening, and my playing skills increased, and I discovered that my brain was doing less work in filling the deficiency gaps. But even now, four decades later, I stand in awe of the people who I record and who are so wonderfully gifted musically. But . . . it's not a gift . . . because they've worked hard to achieve that level of expertise and to make most of the natural abilities they have.
I've finished work on February's challenge, and I will post it most likely, even though I'm disinclined to, because, like Diverdown, what I've got "just sounds better in my head at this point". My musical abilities are not up to scratch in being able to render what I hear in my head to something that replicates it in sound.
So what does one do about this? I have to admire Hakea's example, because he (as I understand) has embarked on a musical spurt only recently. But he has had the bravery to tread this path and to recognise that learning doesn't stop at school. Creativity is important, but it amounts to nothing if you can't express it. And the best way to figure out how to express it, in my view, is practice and learning. We work with what we've got, and that will always be a limiting factor, so we need to find more to work with.
I agree that creativity is the main thing, and I'd like to think a tool is just a tool. But I think it is a bit more complicated. A carpenter has lots of tools, and can therefore make lots of things.
But: some would-be carpenters (like me) are not as fully equipped, and doing some kind of carpentry is extremely difficult. For example, I don't have a router, so what is really easy for someone who has one is difficult for me. Some would-be carpenters are not equally skilled (also like me) in all their tools. I can hammer a nail in ok, but I can't saw a straight line to save myself. All I have is a handsaw, and that goes all over the place.
This leads to another thought: we all work with what we've got. But sometimes what we've got is just not enough to get the job done. I might dwell on this in another post, or maybe as a response to this once I've got my thoughts in order.
I then moved on to another thread, where I saw this remark:
I obviously am pretty new to all this but enjoyed trying to create the different sections and tie them together (it just sounds better in my head at this point)
I am currently involved in a recording project with a group of women who have written collectively about twelve songs dwelling broadly on the conditions of women in early colonial Tasmania. Their ideas are good, but their translation into music is not. This group has a strong interest in and passion for detailing life in that era, and that is reflected in the quality of their lyrics. They have good writing skills. But their musicianship has limitations. The main writer plays guitar, but basically only about three chords (you know, the G C D kind of thing). The others accompany on recorder (really nicely played) and cello (competent, but not outstanding), and the occasional piano (also quite good). This pallette of instruments should produce some great combinations and a variety of textures . . . but it doesn't. Instead the music is dull, tedious, very basic, and importantly, doesn't reflect the range of emotions inherent in the lyrics, which range from tragedy to bawdy.It all sounds very, well, 'churchy'.
There is criticism implied in my preceding remarks, but though I am expressing my view of their musicianship, I am not really critical. And the reason is that they are working with what they have. They can't do more than that. Their musical heritage, knowledge and skill is such that what they are creating is the best they can do. They really can't be faulted for that. It's like me trying to build a coffee table with my hammer, rusty saw and limited joinery skills. I'll get it built as best I can, but it will end up with uneven legs and I wouldn't go near it with a cup of cofee. But no-one should fault me if all I have are some worn out tools and less-than-average ability. That's all I have and that's the best I can do with what I have. I just won't be able to sell the coffee table to anyone. (They'd have adequate cause to find fault if I had a shed-full of first class tools and several wordworking diplomas . . . and despite that, produce a dodgy table!).
Diverdown made an extremely important observation: "it just sounds better in my head as this point". This is important for two reasons:
1 it reveals the difficulties we experience when we can imagine what it should sound like, but are unable to convert the idea into form. This is really frustrating. There are things that contribute to this inability: we lack the necessary tools to convert ideas into sound (we can't play, or don't have access to, the instruments needed to create the sound, we lack the ability to play or sing well enough, or we lack the technology or its mastery); and
2 it reveals that there is an element of dissatisfaction with what has been produced, and that element is what can push us towards achieving greater things (though I agree that it can also push us to give up altogether).
Back to the recording project. The women approached me to see whether I could help. They wanted to record the material, but importantly, they recognised that what they had created was not really what was in their heads. They sought my help with producing the material because they were aware that I had some ability in this area. I'm conscious that this might sound like bragging, but I don't intend it to be. I, too, work with what I've got. It just so happens that I've got a slightly larger arsenal of musical and technological skills than they have.That's no big deal. It's like . . . some people can run a mile in under four minutes, others can't . . . that's just the way it is. Those who can't aren't diminished by not being able to do so.
I started paying guitar when I was about 16. I was writing songs soon after. My playing was crap, my songs were crap, but I thought they were wonderful at the time because my brain was supplying all the extras needed to make them sound good. Over the years my musical horizons started broadening, and my playing skills increased, and I discovered that my brain was doing less work in filling the deficiency gaps. But even now, four decades later, I stand in awe of the people who I record and who are so wonderfully gifted musically. But . . . it's not a gift . . . because they've worked hard to achieve that level of expertise and to make most of the natural abilities they have.
I've finished work on February's challenge, and I will post it most likely, even though I'm disinclined to, because, like Diverdown, what I've got "just sounds better in my head at this point". My musical abilities are not up to scratch in being able to render what I hear in my head to something that replicates it in sound.
So what does one do about this? I have to admire Hakea's example, because he (as I understand) has embarked on a musical spurt only recently. But he has had the bravery to tread this path and to recognise that learning doesn't stop at school. Creativity is important, but it amounts to nothing if you can't express it. And the best way to figure out how to express it, in my view, is practice and learning. We work with what we've got, and that will always be a limiting factor, so we need to find more to work with.