musicworks

As I read through the article "towards the ineffable" about the soundsinger Paul Dutton, I came across an exchange that caught my attention.

Jay Somerset: In the liner notes to CCMC's Decisive Moments, Michael Snow describes the band's music as "Hot Real-Time Electro-Acoustic Composition." Is that what improvising is, real-time composition?

Paul Dutton: No. Improvising is not composition. Free improvisation is about something forming at the time, in the moment. It has nothing to do with composition, real-time or otherwise [...] and I make no apology about the fact that I'm not composing. [...] Steve Lacey once observed [...] that the difference between composition and improvisation is that in composition you have all the time you need to decide what to say in fifteen seconds, but in improvisation, you have fifteen seconds.

(musicworks #99, Winter 2007, pp. 34-35)

"Improvising is not composition" is what really got me, for two reasons mainly. Firstly, I've always had an interest in semantics and word choice, no doubt fostered by my dad the editor, and certainly encouraged by my brother's involvement in linguistics. I think anyone reading that line should be asking themselves "are improvisation and composition different?"

And regardless of my interest in semantics, I believed that improvisation and composition were part of a greater whole. So this really got me thinking.

I already knew what I thought and why, but I'm curious by nature and want to know how other people form opinions, particularly if they differ from mine. Even when people have the same ideas as me, I'm interested in knowing how they came up with them because they usually did not use the same thought process as I did. With curiosity eating away at me, I decided to hunt down Mr. Dutton and get the answers straight from the source.

To give you perspective on how I entered this situation, let me provide my thoughts on improvisation versus composition.

In music, composition is the most important thing to me. At least, it interests me the most. If I were to dissect composition its two base elements would be Emotion and Creation, each of which comprises several sub-categories. I think for Glenn Gould--one of my musical idols--creation was key, and was the foundation of his philosophy of composer-performers. He wasn't satisfied with playing music; he had to compose the notes that were already written. I whole-heartedly agree. Musicians aren't reproducers or imitators; we are creators.

Everything I do in music I relate back to the composer/creator part of my brain.

I will be careful with my word choice. I don't want to say that improvising and composing are fundamentally different because I don't think they are. But I do recognise that they have their differences, and each have distinct functions and appropriate times to be used. But I do believe they are tied to the act of creation, as well as what we are feeling. Generally with improvisation it is in the moment, and while the same can be true of composition, often it is more likely a recollection of emotion, an imagined situation or otherwise. But it is all intertwined. Composing requires some sort of improvisation, though one might say it is a tempered improvisation. Likewise, in improvisation we are composing for the first time--we might never use it again, or we might temper it slightly for subsequent improv.

Just as I discussed in a previous entry about the intertwining of "silence" and "music" so do I see "composition" and "improvisation" lying on a continuum.

Now, for Mr. Dutton's take on improvisation vs. composition.

"You’re right about the common element of creation shared by improvisation and composition. But sharing a common element doesn’t constitute being identical. Men and women are both human, but still different from each other. Conversation and writing are both language functions but they’re very different operations. And that’s the best analogy I can think of for the difference between musical improvisation and musical composition."

A valid point. In some ways we are almost arguing the same point. I'm creating a sense of commonality between two different entities, whereas he appears to be drawing a line of distinction between sub-sets.

"What you read in that Musicworks issue was a transcription of me talking, making it up as I go along, however much I might have been thinking ahead as I did that, and however much I maybe changed in my mind some things that I was about to say, and said something different instead. What you’re getting here is me writing, looking at what I’ve put down, going back and clarifying or catching errors in thought and expression, or maybe completely changing my mind. And, of course, both operations (talking and writing; improvising and composing) share more than just the broad general category that comprises them, employing a variety of identical activities and devices as they go about pursuing they’re different methods towards ends that are, in varying degrees, different or similar."

He apparently shares my interest in word choice. I really like his comparison of talking/writing and improvisation/composition.

I admit, however, that sometimes musicians get caught up in verbiage and overcomplicate with labels and categorisations. At best, I believe it to be a necessary evil. But I think it is helpful for a musician to be able to make conscious decisions about terminology, and what it means to him or her because in some ways that gives her a better idea of how she perceives music. Even if you make use of standard terminology and standard definitions, knowing why you use them I think reveals some of your personality and views on music. You can make better sense of things too: "I don't normally like X but for some reason I like y, which is a subset of X." If you can create distinctions in your own mind, not only will it make sense to you, but then you can verbalise your thoughts. "I find y contains elements of Z, something I really like," or even, "Why do people think y is a subset of X? I don't think it fits in with it at all!"

Dutton, ever vigilant, called me out when I asked if our conversation could be quoted.

"Well, Simon, first of all -- and call me picky, but I consider this to be a vitally important distinction -- we didn’t have a conversation (a spoken exchange); we had a correspondence (a written exchange). I detailed the difference between the two when I first wrote back to you. I’m considered pedantic for pointing out this kind of thing, but I consider it equally delusional to think that writing is talking as to think that talking is writing."

He speaks the truth. I should have caught that one before it flew off into cyberspace. At least I know he was paying attention!

Thanks to Paul Dutton for letting me bounce my ideas off him, and sharing his in return.

Musical Inspiration

I was thinking a little bit more on the previous post I made. And based on what I wrote there, as well as what I've thought about before, I've drawn a few more conclusions about those who inspire me, and how it affects me and my music.

I think if there's one thing I've learned from Holopainen beyond being true to your music, it is this: the power of music is greater than the sum of its parts. Simplicity can be more effective than complexity. A piece does not have to be virtuosic and demanding of its performer(s) to be a great piece. In fact, lots of great music has parts that are boring and/or very easy for certain players. But it's the way that the pieces fit together that matters.

I am sometimes apologetic about writing lines that may not be entirely interesting for the performer, but so long as I believe it fits in with the piece and works effectively with the other parts then that is how it must be. Not everyone can be a virtuoso all the time anyway.

I have the following posted elsewhere, but since this is my music journal, I figured I might as well post it here too. It is a list of the ten most influential albums. I think it fairly accurately represents my eclectic tastes in music. Albums are listed alphabetically by band/last name, and the brackets indicate the year I first heard it.

JS Bach - The Goldberg Variations (Glenn Gould's 1981 recording) [2007]

I will never listen to Bach the same way again. I can still remember vividly the day I finally sat down and listened to this. I can only imagine that this is how people felt when they heard the 1955 recording air on the radio more than half a century ago. Having listened to both recordings, I can understand Gould's desire to re-record this particular work. There's nothing wrong with the first version, but he had nearly 30 years of experience and change to put into the piece. Playing on a Yamaha gives it an altogether different feel as well. This version is pensive, it takes its time, the variations in minor are more sombre, the cheerful ones are more so. And nothing sends chills down my spine like the aria.

Children of Bodom - Tokyo Warhearts [2005]

No other live album can compare to this. In some ways this is Bodom's finest work. It truly represents how tight they once were as a band. Listening to the keyboard/guitar solo battle for the first time was incredible. Everything just fit right into place--the music feels improvised and fresh, but cohesive and together. The Stockholm recording of 2006 pales in comparison. I've heard other live CDs that are good, but nothing, nothing like Tokyo Warhearts.

For My Pain... - Fallen [2005]

What happens when you take some of the biggest names in Finnish metal and get them to record a CD? Pure, unadulterated gothic metal. Featuring members from Nightwish, Eternal Tears of Sorrow, Charon and Reflexion, For My Pain... is what Tuomas Holopainen calls a "therapy group." A place where they can go when they need a break from their regular projects and let off some steam. It is indeed therapeutic for the listener too: the steady rhythms, the sorrowful melodies, the atmospheric keys (that could only come from the Nightwish mastermind) the words of love, lust and loss. Works great on sunny and overcast days.

Fort Minor - The Rising Tied [2006]

While I'd certainly been exposed to rap and hip hop before through bands like Linkin Park and Kazzer, The Rising Tied is straight up rap. It surprised me because I finally realised that I actually like rap. This was a big eye opener for me because I knew that I liked rapping in the context of rock, and I didn't mind rap parodies. But I realise now that it's all about context. I don't like gangsta rap, but rapping itself is very impressive. There's something almost trancelike too, with the minimalist steady beats and repetitious harmony/melody (if any). Mike Shinoda tells it like it is, without coming off as condescending, or purposefully trying to be really deep.

Nightwish - Once [2004]

I'll never forget the day I heard Once. When I put it in my CD player back in the spring of 2004, I honestly thought I'd either put the wrong CD in or that they'd burned the wrong music to the disc. It was mind blowing. I'd never heard anything quite like it, and I've never had that same feeling since. Once changed heavy metal for me. I can't pinpoint what it is, but Nightwish really nailed it on this one. It was their first CD recording with the LSO, and in some ways I think it's their most diverse album. Ranging from classic metal songs like Dark Chest of Wonders, to techno-infused metal in Wish I Had An Angel, to the Eastern sounds of The Siren, classic Nightwish sound in Nemo, the Native American influence on Creek Mary's Blood, the epic symphony Ghost Love Score, and the chilling farewell to Marc Brueland in Higher Than Hope. In an interview they were asked why the CD is called Once and Marco Hietala jokingly answered "because we can't do it twice." This CD represents something big. What it is, I don't know, but it's big.

Norther - Death Unlimited [2006]

Children of Bodom's Hatecrew Deathroll was the first melodic death metal album I got hooked on, but when I heard Death Unlimited I knew it wasn't an anomaly. I'm still very selective when it comes to harsh vocals in music--in fact, Bodom and Norther are really the only two I'll listen to--but this CD really opened up a new world to me. I admittedly was not impressed on the first few listens, but then again I was studying for exams. When I gave it a chance I was drawn in by the heavy breakdowns and surprised by how dark the music is. At times just straight up heavy metal, like the title track, and other times depressingly deep, like the tracks Beneath, and Nothing. The band has long been compared to Bodom, but after their first CD (and even then it's a stretch) Norther really developed its own identity.

Poets of the Fall - Signs of Life [2006]

It was the summer of 2006, and I was listening to internet radio at work. It was a neat site (which has since become a paid site, or possibly defunct) that selected your subsequent playlist based on your initial song search. I found some really good music this way. When Lift, the first track from this CD came on, I knew I had to buy it. I hadn't heard any of the other songs, but I was convinced that it would be an amazing CD. I was quite surprised when I heard the full album. Lift sounds like good ol' Finnish metal (perhaps somewhere between HIM and Sonata Arctica), but the rest of it is totally different. The only other two rock and roll songs are tracks 3 and 4 and beyond that it's mostly acoustic or light rock. But it's difficult to put Poets in a specific category. Across the album, discography, and in the songs individually there's a strong synthesis of styles that is really quite effective. It's like metal meets rock, meets acoustic, meets country, meets lounge. Or something.

J Sibelius - Symphony No. 2 in D major [2009]

I've never been one for the symphony. I love concerti and metal that uses symphonic elements, but I never cared for symphonies themselves. Even when we studied the Eroica in second year, I was unimpressed. However, Sibelius has made me seriously reconsider the symphonic form. Maybe it's because he has such a different approach to writing music--after all his symphonies (in fact, most of his large scale music) is not constructed on sonata-allegro form--even his so-called Sonatines, op 67 don't have much to do with sonatas. But I was taken aback by the level of depth and emotion that Sibelius reached, though admittedly it's mostly the opening movement that really catches me. I would later go on to listen through the rest of his numbered symphonies and other symphonic pieces, which are just as powerful. Though the 2nd caught my interest, it was his 3rd that really got me hooked. Sublime from beginning to end. What will those Finns do next?

Sonata Arctica - Reckoning Night [2005]

Reckoning Night holds the record for most initial plays, hands down. Maybe even most plays total. By no exaggeration, when I first got it, I listened to it every day, at least twice, for about three weeks. And then I slowed down to probably once a day after that for a while. No other CD has even come close to this much play time. I don't think I've even listened to another CD once a day three weeks in a row. With Reckoning Night I really believe Sonata Arctica was reborn. They had a very distinctive style and sound, and they were uncharacteristically upbeat for the Finnish metal scene (Stratovarius takes the cake for happiest metal band). With Winterheart's Guild I think they hit a plateau--if they'd kept on doing the same thing it wouldn't have worked anymore. But Reckoning Night is edgy, it's dark, it's heavier. Tony Kakko took his vocal harmonisations to the next level, and all the songs are so much more involved. It was heavy (emotionally and in terms of sound), but light enough to not be too drained after listening to it (one reason I couldn't have listened to Once twice a day for three weeks). It really spoke to me at the time, and still stands as an inspiration.

Tiësto - In Search of Sunrise 4: Latin America [2005]

I had been exposed to trance before, with Tiësto's Summerbreeze mix, but it seems that it didn't hit home until heard this Sunrise mix. My (much) later realisation that I love minimalism could have stemmed from all the trance I absorbed. The two disc set covers a wide range of moods and emotions. Tiësto has quite the knack for picking songs that work well and flow so seamlessly. I could just put this mix on and float away in a trance. I knew after this that it was the right kind of music for me. This is the first two-CD Sunrise mix that Tiësto made and he once said that "there's always a surprise on the second disc." I think it stands truest with Latin America.

Re: Musical Influences

It's an interesting question, with many angles. My first reaction would be to name my favourite artists/composers, but they don't always necessarily match up with the list of influences.

How does one accurately track influence? I think it can be a very tricky business, and often influence presents itself in subtle ways, or is essentially invisible. I don't usually think about influences when I'm composing unless I'm consciously looking to model a particular section or sound based off something else. I might start a piece trying to affect something I've heard before just to see if I can do it, and it might morph itself, and/or the music that develops around it. Strangely enough, I find the less I think about it, and the more I write freely, somehow, the more the influence creeps in. Particularly when I look back at some of first compositional scraps (before I really had any musical training), I'm amazed at what my ear had detected in the music I was listening to at the time, and how it had decided to emulate it.

I would say I consider my music more "inspired by," rather than "influenced by." These people make me want to create, not in emulation but in my spirit, just as they did for themselves. It is the spirit of their music that moves me.

I know it seems cliche to list JS Bach as a great influence, but I think it's a testament to the power of his music, 300 years later. And not just Bach, but all the other masters of Renaissance and Baroque polyphony. The music of these eras really transcend the mathematical nature of the composition. I don't want to sound like a snob, but there's a certain "purity" to the music that is somewhat hard to describe.

In Chopin I find a kindred spirit. I admire the Romantics for their expanding harmonic vocabulary and new ideas, but too much of it sounds sugar-coated to me. Chopin keeps things very real, which is something I try to stick to. Don't waste 16 bars when you really only need 12, or 8 or 4. Write what needs to be written; nothing more or less. Virtuosity has a time and place, and Chopin thankfully steers clear of the bombastic approach taken by some of his contemporaries.

Sibelius has been a recent discovery of mine, and it is thanks to him that I have reconsidered the symphony. I truly admire Sibelius for the sounds he created and his uncompromising attitude towards his music, when you consider the time he was writing. His 3rd Symphony in C major premiered in 1912 (or thereabouts), and while he does use many rich sonorities, including 9th chords in inversion and added fourths in the bass, he was most definitely using tonality and modality. A far cry from what was developing in the world, but that's the music he wanted to write. He may have had very low self esteem, but he stuck to his guns. Thank goodness for that!

Arguably my greatest musical influence is Tuomas Holopainen. The mastermind of Finnish metal act Nightwish is one of the top reasons I got myself back into music. His commitment to writing truthful music is what really motivates me to become a better composer. He's one of those rare people wherein you're just as interested in him as you are in his music. And I think that's because there's no dividing line. It's unmistakably his music, and you can always find him in it. The passion with which he writes, and the power of his music is truly amazing.

I think it's also worth mentioning the influence of Glenn Gould, moreso in his role as performer-composer. His ideas of turning performance into composition are, I think, just as important for performers as they are for composers.

As I mentioned at the beginning, I don't think it's always obvious how influences/inspirations make their way through to the end product. Or, to look at it another way, influences that do come through don't necessarily embody the original. Chopin, for instance, had a great love for Italian opera and its florid style. While it's quite obvious how the lyrical voices had an effect on his works, it doesn't sound like Italian opera anymore (thank goodness). Chopin took what he needed and used it as he saw fit. On the other hand, Holopainen has a lot of respect for Metallica and Pantera (neither of which I care for), and they undoubtedly had some influence on his path to metal, but I don't think that we can hear it in his music. His film score influences, on the other hand, are quite obvious.

When I wrote my first atonal piece last semester, my brother (who is not a musician, though he did take piano lessons when he was younger) commented that he could hear some influence of video game music on me--particularly Nobuo Uematsu and Yasunori Mitsuda. I hadn't thought of it, but when he pointed it out, I had to agree. Just so long as I don't unintentionally replicate someone else' music.

And while he may not have much an influence on the music I do right now, I certainly admire the spirit of Tiësto, and he's the one who taught me how to dance. That's got to be worth something!