One day after, one day before

Various domestic activities this morning. An advantage of doing this at my age is that regular trips to the supermarket are not a financial issue. They are no less boring for that.

The joys of a full pantry that makes no impact on the bank balance...



Listened to the rough mix of SpaceChoir from our latest rehearsal. I should qualify "rough". When I say rough I mean final. My mixing skills extend to moving volume sliders relative to each other. So when I say rough and mean final I actually mean finished. I wish I had more skill in this area but there is so much technical information already required to transform the plucked notes I play into a vast ensemble that I don't have the time or inclination to spend more time not playing. Perhaps later we can entice, entrap, cajole or threaten someone with those skills to help out. Why they would agree to do so is beyond me.

The mix sounds good, great really. I might post it to the web site soon. Soon-ish. The web site, the new web site that is, needs to be completed first. It is number one on my task list but finding time to work on the task list is difficult too. For example, the necessary (but boring) trip to the supermarket. I could be doing the web site instead of this blog, but...

I have yet to speak of the inspiration for the resurrection of my playing career. Playing live career, that is. Except for the dozen years previously mentioned I have continued to play. What got me thinking that this was not a stupid idea (it is a silly idea but it's not stupid) was Mr Gil Askey. An amazing man. I have seen him play many times but have never met him. Don't need to. He inspires by what he does. I'm not a fan of the jazz he plays (and still plays so well although he is into his 80's), but I am a fan of his enthusiasm. For people who don't know I suggest a Google search. And for all those questions online like "Where is Gil Askey now...?" I can tell you he is here. He runs the jazz band at the High School my children attend. They are awesome. The group of teenagers they are not withstanding. My son plays drums in the jazz band, he also plays classical guitar but his real choice of instrument is between a 4 iron and a 5 iron when 200 metres out from a green. He has great expectations of a U2-like revenue stream but not from music. Look out for another Macpherson ten years from now.

With Gil as the jazz band leader they attract some great musicians that just "pop in". The drummer, David Jones, played with the band a few times last month, with my son playing next to him. What an opportunity. Although it did cost me $300 with his enthusiasm for different implements to strike things with. I didn't know such a variety of hitting sticks was possible.

I remember a silly thought I had once. I was 27 and I thought, "I'm too old to be doing this sort of thing anymore." An interesting concept that, too old for music, too old to be performing music I mean. I guess the embarrassment factor is important. Which I guess it would be if you were playing Kiss covers at my age or plain old sad if you were trying to live a Kurt Cobain lifestyle. But, playing innovative, improvised music at any age is acceptable. When it comes to jazz then the older you are the better.

I'm doing that.... the getting older part, I mean.

So, the music, the innovation, the moving forward or simply changing is what is important. I can do that too.

On the subject of inspiration, I remember another story. It is amusing in its contrariness. It was 1969, I was a 14 year old budding guitarist. My grandmother had remarried and moved to Scotland years earlier. She was dying of cancer and in 1969 my father went to visit her. On his way back, through London, he went to buy a present for each of his children. I have a younger sister. Music was the obvious and safe choice. For me the choice was simple, "Abbey Road". My sister was a problem so my father simply picked out an album, by its cover, that he thought she would like. He picked an album that, he thought, consisted of children's novelty songs. A logical choice since the cover was, almost, clown-like. Thank god for my fathers complete lack of taste and, probably, his haste to get the present shopping over with. He does not have a musical molecule in his body, so there was no intent in his purchase.

Later, when my father was back in Australia and had distributed his largesse, I was happy with the Abbey Road purchase. My sister announced, many days later, that she did not like her present. I was interested immediately, since any music that a younger sister did not like must have merit. I played it on my record player in my bedroom. I can still remember standing and listening with the album cover in my hand. I had not heard music like that before, I did not know music like that could exist. I was listening to, possibly, the only copy in Australia at the time of, "In the Court of the Crimson King" by King Crimson.

The logical extension, being a budding guitarist, is that I was inspired by Mr Fripp's playing and that led me in new and uncharted directions. However, with the greatest respect to Mr Fripp's playing (it was only years later I appreciated his playing) it was the flute that inspired me. I thought, 'I have to learn the flute'. I did.

When I met Mr Herrick, only a few years after that, I inspired him with that record and my enthusiasm for it. He also learnt the flute, and he became a better player than me (I was by then concentrating on guitar - probably beginning my quest in pursuit of proficiency with the E flat major scale, that still continues today!). When we played in Cirrus, many years later, we had a section of music in the middle of our performances where I put down my guitar (with increased reluctancy as time progressed) and Lee and I played a flute duet. It lasted only for a few minutes but our band became known as the "one with the two flutes". With one to two hours of music we were defined by what happened during one or two minutes only.

I only discovered Mr Anderson years after I began playing the flute. Unfortunately, my flute has remained encased and un-played for a few years now - not since my acoustic foray, "Dispossessed". Now, that is embarrassing but needs to be discussed at another time.

That's enough, I need to get back to the E flat major scale. I was naughty last night and played it in the sixth position for awhile. I have an idea for a new piece of music. It's in E flat at 180 bpm. I have the name already, "Wagner would know". Yes, a pretentious in-joke but one of the highlights of my musical life was seeing the complete Ring Cycle. The music says it wants to be at 180, but the days of picked semi-quavers at 180 are gone. Although, I hope not, I hope it's just a matter of (even) more practice.

I want to spend a few tens of hours on just the E flat major scale and burn it into my brain. Again. I'm sure when the music is, eventually, heard people will not understand why I spent so long on just this one scale (and only in one position, so far). Most of the notes will not be in the E flat major scale! However, it is important to know where your fingers should have been placed when you, purposefully, place them elsewhere.

A Rehearsal

A good rehearsal with Mr Bashford today.

Now, that would have been a more satisfactory beginning. Alas, we rarely can decide when important things in our lives begin.

I have been thinking upon the word "dulcet", and after a quick glance at a dictionary I do not believe the word could, correctly, be applied to Mr Bashford. I mean, he hits things. That's what he does. And while we can program melodious snippets into his contraption normally the sounds he makes have no harmonic content. Although, to be fair, it is not his fault that his passion is physical and rhythmical music. I especially forgive him the error of his ways since he has asked me to record a refrain containing Mellotron sounds to add to his machine's memory.

The great advantage of what we are embarking upon is that we can rehearse at low volume levels. We use smallish powered monitor speakers and are able to converse, with only slightly raised voices, as we play. The interest of the rehearsing performer is piqued by listening to the "thwap" as Mr Bashford's sticks impact rubber pads and the "click" of a plectrum as it strikes a string. The resultant sounds, after passing through many electrical boxes, is very different.

Also, we can rehearse in the guest room/study and take up little space. Luckily, no guests are expected.



Mr Bashford is attired for the warm weather we are experiencing at the moment.

What is it that we are doing? I thought about that this morning but did not write about it. I didn't realize what we are doing is jazz. It just doesn't sound like jazz. It doesn't sound like anything I've heard before at all. It's improvised music but we have a structure, sort of, that allows some repetition but the end result from performance to performance is different. I love being, simultaneously, a performer and an audience member. Since the computer is an integral component - we play live but record and play back parts of the performance and then improvise over the top of the improvising, etc, etc - there are times when I have nothing to play (and should not be playing) and can listen to the music as if it has been created by someone else. I wonder where the music comes from at times although, to be honest, there are times when it is not working and inspiration, temporarily, fails.

That is the beauty of everything, we need the lesser moments just as much. I wish the young gentlemen and ladies who enjoy playing loud guitar, all the time, would understand that high/loud moments are enhanced by the low/soft moments and without the later the former loses impact. Consequence: The audience becomes bored, the performer becomes bored.

This is all so obvious but few people put it into practice.

Finished the overview for the SpaceChoir piece. We know the sounds we will use, which key it will be based on, the tempo, how it will start, what will happen about half way through and then how to stop it at the end (that will be the "stop all clips" button on the computer!). Consequently, another piece of music of 8 to 20 minutes length is completed. I really like this one, what happens half way through gives me goose bumps - the good kind.

I need to remix what we've recorded so I can select a few sections of, say, 30 seconds length to put on a demo CD. To try to convince a venue to allow us to play. The jazz venues won't like it, the rock venues won't like it... God, it's the 1970's all over again when I was trying to convince venues that it would be good for business to host a progressive rock band. The music was great just no-one liked it in numbers enough (in a small country like New Zealand) to sustain us. Then in Australia, AC/DC was as complex as music was allowed to be. So, late-twenties, frustrated with the lack of interest, lack of money, I gave up. Unfortunately, I had many other options to pursue and some of them made money. Ah, the lure of a roof over your head (that you own), sufficient food and, even, holidays. Music didn't stand a chance.

However, here I am doing it again but this time there are no stars in my eyes, I understand about running businesses (even successful ones!) and there is a plan. Luckily the revenue stream only needs to be sufficient to keep Mr Bashford in drum sticks and buy food on alternate days. He doesn't need to eat everyday? Does he? I think if we are successful at the extreme end of my business plan then we might, almost, make enough to do that. Ahh, heady success beckons.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

It's really Wednesday, and it was all supposed to begin with, "A good rehearsal with Mr Bashford yesterday".

It didn't. Although to be fair to Mr Bashford I did have my telephone turned off and did not get his message until after I had given up waiting.

However, waiting for Mr Bashford was not that onerous...



I thought, as I waited in such disturbing circumstances, that so much of our time is spent waiting, usually for someone else to do something. I've been waiting, sort of, for this time for about 24 years. I can't remember the exact last time I played in front of an audience but I can remember which year it was. Perhaps that's the function of age to blur the specifics so that we can smile with our memories. Or dribble, as our smiles become fixed as we fall asleep.... Waiting for Mr Bashford.

So, a duo this time. The last time was a trio and the time before that was a number too large to count, with banks of mellotrons and keyboards and a strutting guitarist. I never really strutted though. Perhaps that was the problem but then, when a simple mistake like a misplaced quaver in an hour of music could bring down the whole edifice, there is not a lot of concentration room left over for strutting. I couldn't have left the vicinity of my pedal board anyway, since in my pretentiousness I needed a new and distinct sound, almost, with each refrain I played. I remember being surprised that we were not more popular, all the musicians were excellent and the music was well played (even though after a performance our dressing room was a den of silence and of passing around the rusty razor blades as we believed we had played badly. Lee's (the singer, flautist and part-time guitarist) most popular parting remark to the audience was "You've been most kind". It was only in the following days when we heard recordings of our performance would we think we played quite well and would wish we could go back and do the encore we refused to do because we were sure the audience didn't really mean to clap).

The music then (and I am talking now of ancient history, the 1970's) needed to be listened to many times before enjoyment could begin. Few people, not associated with the band, got past twice.

Still, no matter how long you try to hide from the muse or try to ignore its urgings it will catch up to you. I had 12 years of complete escape. And I mean complete. I did not touch a guitar or listen (with intent) to music. I sold almost everything musical. However, I could not part with my classical guitar, a Guild acoustic and my RD Artist. But, they lived forgotten and unloved in a shed. When I did dig them out (a bit more than 10 years ago) the gold fittings on the Gibson had rusted and I had to get them replaced. What a shame.

As I waited for Mr Bashford (or was I dreaming and smiling and dribbling), I remembered the shock of discovery when I responded to the urgings of the muse. And I could still play although my fingers hurt when I played steel strings. That put me off for awhile and I returned to Bach, I re-bought the Lute Suites and attempted to play them again. I failed but had fun doing so.

The striving is the important bit. I've been playing guitar for 40 years (less the aforementioned 12) and still consider myself less than a beginner. When we start we think once we have mastered about a dozen chords and a few pentatonic scales then we will be finished and we only need to get faster. As we study more and practice more we become aware of what we don't know. I have so much more to learn now after 40 years (less the 12). Who could have believed there could be so many combinations of 12 notes. Then your brain explodes with the possibility of adding a second octave. The foetal position is assumed when we realize the possibilities of 12 notes and nearly 4 octaves!

For example, after I did turn my telephone on and received Mr Bashford's message about his non-arrival I used the next hour or so on the E flat major scale. Only the position at the 11th fret, no other, and only playing consecutive notes in the scale (either up or down) or part scale. After more than an hour of just this (yes, I know, don't say "Get a life") I thought I was ready to begin practicing this scale in this position. Not to mention different positions, single string scales and then all the different keys and then all the different modes and then, perhaps, be ready to be a babe in the woods with all the jazz combinations. I would need to live many long lives. Even then...

Perhaps I'm still dreaming and dribbling but always smiling. Mr Bashford has assured me of his presence today and I need a few more hundred hours on the E flat major scale, 11th position before he arrives. I need to mix our rehearsals from last week also (I wish I knew how to do that better but that would have to be lifetime number 23).

Have I mentioned I've also written a book? No?

Ahh, I hear the dulcet tones of Mr Bashfords arrival.