No, It Isn't Ken's Really Heavy Concept Album...

As an independent musician and producer, budgetary constraints have dictated that up until now, I had to record the old fashioned way by writing and arranging the material well in advance. Old habits die hard. Getting started on this project was the hardest part because I was still clinging to old methods.

Well, fie on the old methods.

The practice of beginning a new composition every day--both writing and recording--and then looking at the pool of material I had created to choose the best bits for expansion has worked exceedingly well. Out of eighteen ideas, three of those pieces have now been expanded into three brand new songs with basic tracks now complete. That's three new songs in three weeks' time, plus ideas in the can I can use later. I'd call that a successful working method.

This may seem old hat to folks who have been doing this on their own for awhile, but it's the first time I've had the opportunity to use the tools of today to make a record. I've never had the experience of writing an album as I was recording it. That sort of thing was meant for big recording stars with huge budgets, the sort of thing I read about in music magazines and books in my youth. I always thought that the worst thing that could happen when you got to that level would be to run out of ideas while the meter was running. That, or you could second guess yourself into oblivion, over analyzing everything that you do until you manage to wring every drip of life from your music. I've never, ever been rich and on some level, such indulgence offends me to the core.

Now that I have decent gear at my disposal, I haven't fallen into a vat of self-indulgence. I've used the luxury of unlimited time prudently and effectively, redoing things only when they clearly needed it. I have a strong desire to complete this project this year, and that has kept me on track. The tools have kept me focused, and control of those tools has made my creative process faster and more finely honed. I can focus better and make quicker decisions. In short, I've been able to create music more efficiently and realize the things I'm looking for more fully.

I started this album with about a half dozen songs already written, but they remain on the shelf. I really needed some new material to work on to keep my interest. So, after a revision of the work done thus far, I have five songs created between October and January (two others were cut), plus three brand new ones bringing the grand total to eight. Hopefully, a couple more weeks of writing will help me come up with three more. Of those eight, only one of those songs predates the beginning of recording for this project.

So what do the other seven songs sound like? I dunno. I hate describing my own music. Or anybody else's, for that matter (which was why my career as a critic a few years ago was so short-lived). They're definitely different, but still consistent with the way I write. I think people who know my work will be surprised but not thrown for a complete loop. I'm using some different sounds, textures, song forms and ideas, but it's not like going from nursery rhymes to serialism. There is a thread of continuity there. You'll hear it soon enough. Then you can decide for yourself. I think that's best.

The Pace Quickens

Almost two years ago, I took up meditation in the belief that someone like me needed to find new strategies to help myself unclench. It has helped tremendously, although it has taken some time to really understand the benefits of the practice. Having suffered from considerable bouts of writer's block over the years (and the accompanying panic and stress of trying to write in the face of the possibility of failure), I'm really surprised at how mental training has affected my writing process.

The new strategies I talked about in my last entry are yielding results, and the switch from guitar-based songs to piano-based songs has broadened the scope of the album and guided me towards new territory. In keeping with the idea of starting a new composition every day, I now have seventeen new pieces to work on (since March 8th), three of which have made it to the collection of songs that will make up the album. The rest of them are ideas to be plundered later for other projects. It sure is nice to have a surplus of material for a change. And the new methods have kicked things up a few notches.

What I'm learning is to not censor myself so harshly from the very beginning of the composition process. Better to just let it flow and edit things later. It seems a simple idea, but one that took me a long time to learn. I am teaching myself to suspend disbelief in life and in my work. Using simple recording software like Garage Band in the initial stages of composing allows me to play with arrangements before moving over to the Logic side. The ethos of simplicity and the feeling of spontaneity I've been trying to capture are still very much alive, and the sense of adventure is heightened.

But the most important lesson I'm learning is to not be attached to the results. I trust that I'll make the right decisions and that this collection of songs will become what it's supposed to become. I can't think of how much or how little people will enjoy it. i can't think of what friends and family will think or what critics will say. That's all stuuf that is beyond my ability to control. My job at this point is to follow where the music goes. The album will be what it is.

So if you'll excuse me...

Screw the Rules

Funny how time flies. Striking a balance between making an album and writing about making it is really quite a trick. But even when I'm away from the computer, I'm always thinking about it, always going over in my mind what I've done so far and what I'd like to do next.

In the meantime, I've been busy doing other things which have yielded unexpected results. I've collaborated with my friend Mike Schrand from the St. Louis band Salt of the Earth, adding bits to some of his songs. I've also engineered and produced a couple of tracks for an album of music by the employees of Vintage Vinyl, a record store here in St. Louis that's sort of a musical institution here in the Midwest. I also have the opportunity to produce albums for other artists later this year--something I've wanted to do for a while now and that I'm excited about.

This month, I began the process of putting myself out as a composer for hire. I've always been able to do more than write songs. I can come up with ideas and write compositions that have nothing to do with traditional pop and rock songwriting structures. I love instrumental music and I'm musically conversant in a wide range of styles. But in my more traditional songs, I haven't been able to find a refuge for my more eclectic leanings. I've found an outlet for that in writing stock and custom instrumental music for sale. These pieces can be used for commercials, multimedia projects, presentations...whatever you can imagine. In this realm, people are looking for diverse textures. And I'm all about musical diversity.

These experiences have helped me get out of my own head and step back from my primary project. I came to realize that the rules I imposed on myself earlier in this project seemed reasonable, but are proving to be limiting. My musical imagination has ideas of its own that and doesn't really concern itself with adhering to a prescribed manifesto. Ironically, it was work I've been doing on commercial music that led me to reappraise my art project.

So now every day, I get up and write a new composition. My normal writing process is a bit slow because I have a tendency to self-censor (agonize is more the word here). But no more of that now. If it comes out, I write it. Sometimes I finish or at least start several compositions in a day and sort them out at the end of the day. It's wither good music for stock, a song idea to be developed or something that's hot on my mind that moves to the front of the line for further development for the album. It's a whole new way of working and so far I'm thrilled with the results.

This new way of working essentially does three things: One, it helps keep the lights on. By helping to pay the bills, I'm able to keep working on the album. Two, it helps me to get rid of musical cliches that are woven into my consciousness. Some of these I use in my songs, some of them I try to avoid. Writing commercial music means I have an outlet for things I wouldn't necessarily use. Conversely, in coming up with new themes to develop on the commercial sides, So thirdly. I often stumble upon ideas I wouldn't have normally found otherwise. Some of these are so good that I'm often prompted to say, "Well, that's way too hip to give away. I'm keeping that bit for the album!"

But of course, the very best part of all of this is that I get to work on creating music all the time. That's the part I like best.

I originally set out to make an album in a very traditional way, accepting limitations of the equipment and keeping an organic feel to the sound and organization to the tracks. Now I'm using sequencing and keyboard tools much more, but sticking with traditional sounds--indeed, all of the classic keyboard sounds I've been using so far have all come from software. I'm simply broadening my palette and building instrumental arrangements that have a little more depth to make the tracks I'm working on a little richer. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Intermission

The first burst of euphoria and frenzied activity has passed. It was a good run, lasting several months filled with creative spirit and energy. But the time has come to take stock of what I've done so far and start to think about what needs to happen next.

I made some attempts at creating basic tracks for songs that I've had sitting around for awhile, but some of them just didn't feel right. They're good songs, but the process of putting them down felt forced to me. I've attempted to record ten songs so far. Of those ten, half were old and half were new. All of the new songs have made the cut so far, plus only two of the older ones. That makes seven songs so far, and my goal is twelve for the album.

Engineer Jack Petracek came to visit me last week. We sipped delicious tea and listened to the work I've done so far. Good musicians don't always make good recording engineers and Lord knows I'm not a hot-shot engineer. To my great relief, Jack said I had done a pretty good job so far. He pointed out a few problem areas and even showed me how to fix them. They were mostly minor EQ fixes that helped unclutter some of the mixes. I'm learning more every day.

His arrival couldn't have come at a better time. After several weeks, sometimes you're just not sure of what you're hearing anymore. Certain things that seemed so right can seem utterly wrong some days, and sonic weirdness can lead to self-doubt if left unchecked. That, plus the looming reality of having to write five more songs that are as good as the ones I already have was starting to bug me.

I've made a few attempts to come up with some ripping new stuff, but it just wasn't happening. I've done this long enough to know that dry well periods are normal and very temporary. I had hoped to put off doing vocals until later, but I really need to keep the project moving forward. One has to be flexible when making an album. Things don't always go the way you've planned them and you have to be willing to go wherever the road leads.

So this week I'll begin working on the vocals for the tracks I have. Some of the songs have complete sets of lyrics, most of them don't. In the past, some of my best lyrics came exactly when I needed them, often just outside the studio minutes before tracking. Now and then. I need some self-imposed pressure. I must admit, I begin vocal tracking for the album with some trepidation, but once I'm into it, I know I'll come around. I have to force myself to start things sometimes.

Wow, I feel better just having written all that. I really hope this blog is interesting to people, but the one who ultimately benefits from it is me. By dissecting my own process, I'm able to better understand what I'm doing and get a better insight into what I should do next.

The Process

Writing songs is much like the journey from infancy to adulthood. I start with a feeling and musical ideas to express that feeling, but at that stage, it's still a non-verbal process. That's when I am most childlike--a bundle of emotions without the language to express them. My cognitive and verbal skills grow until I can find the ideas and words to express what I really feel. By creating music, I learn how to speak and I discover what I'm trying to say.

The way I do it has changed over the years. I used to sit down with a guitar, pen and paper and write a song from beginning to end including the lyrics. I made a transition to writing music in my head and writing it down later for awhile. Now, almost invariably, it's music first and rarely do I ever finish a new song in one sitting. I'll come up with little ideas and write them down or record them for so I can expand them into songs.

This led to a problem for many years--I could never finish anything. Now, when reviewing notes and audio snippets looking for what to do next, I'll often pick one in the evening and earmark it for work the next day. In the morning, I'll generally turn the snippet into a song very quickly and begin tracking it as soon as possible so it remains fresh. Preserving the freshness of the demoing process while recording final versions for release is the goal of this project. The griddle-to-plate time has been reduced to ensure freshness.

My most productive time of day for recording is from about 2 o'clock in the afternoon until about 10 pm. By then I've either done what i needed to do or my ears are so shot that I can't work anymore anyway. I like to sleep at night, but I'm not above staying up late to lay down really quiet instrumental or vocal tracks. Sometimes I have to because the traffic outside my house can be very, very noisy during the day.

I begin each new song with the acoustic guitar and a click track. This forms the basis of most of the songs on the album. Once I have a decent guitar track that lays out the form of the song, I move next to the drums. After a small eternity devoted to drum tracking, I move on to the bass and keyboards. On a good day, I can get a decent guitar/drums/bass/keys thing recorded in an afternoon. I mix as I go because I want to have an idea of what the record will actually sound like. If it sounds good as it takes shape, it excites me and motivates me to keep going.

Some people find this a very difficult way to work and are aghast when I describe my working methods, but I usually have arrangement ideas worked out in my head before I even start. Multiple takes allow me to work out parts and I usually revise as I go along. Sometimes, it takes a few days before I go back in and change things, but aside from occasional complete remakes, I usually commit to workable versions early on. But if I encounter obvious problems as I'm layering more parts, I'll happily make changes or start again from scratch.

The very last thing I worry about is the vocals, including the lyrics. The melodies are all in my head so I don't even cut scratch vocals--one of the perks of not working with others! But as I track and mix, the song forms are constantly being reinforced in my head and I'll find myself humming along while I'm working. Sometimes, a repeated melody will suggest a phrase or a line here and there and I'll write it down. At some point, I'll take a couple of weeks to concentrate exclusively on writing lyrics.

In the next installment, I'll post some video for you so you can get a look at the space where I'm working and hear some of the sounds. Take good care until then.

About Ears

Ears are very eccentric sensory instruments--moody, easily influenced by the environment, emotional states, physiological factors and just plain fatigue. In my case, add to that a imbalance that affects my right ear and a touch of tinnitus, and making an album can be an even bigger challenge. In the insular environment of a recording studio, objectivity is easily the most prized and often the rarest of commodities.

This past week, I recorded the basic track for a song I wrote eighteen years ago but never "officially" released. It's a song I could play in my sleep and the tracking went well. This song was actually the first song I recorded for the new album back in September, but a remake was in order at a slightly slower tempo. I set up one of the small mics, recorded an acoustic track to a click track, doubled it and started to record the drums. The song calls for a sort of two-step beat using brushes. It's a time-keeping part intended to push the groove along. These repetitive parts are often the most difficult to play, but I was able to nail it in a few takes. Slowing it down was a good call and I was pleased with the result.

I went to bed that night secure in the knowledge that I had what I needed. But when I woke up the next morning, my ears told me something else. I had noticed a slight sag in tempo close to the beginning of the song. The previous night, my ears told me that it wasn't that noticeable and that it added a touch of humanity to the recording--the very aesthetic I've been going for with the whole project. But now my ears had changed their opinion and convinced me that the whole drum track needed replacing.

Kate was listening from her office as I got out the brushes and sat behind the kit once again. After a few passes, I had a take that sounded pretty good to me. But Kate stopped me in the hallway and suggested that the take I had just made didn't have the same feel as the one I had done the night before. She said it had an easygoing groove that was very appealing. The track I had just laid down didn't have that "something" that made it work, and her ears, and thus her whole body, missed it. She simply didn't feel the same way when she heard the new drums.

I had almost completely wiped the pervious night's work, but I dug out my backup drive to hear the difference. She was right. When I revisited the original version, I noticed that it was the guitar tracks that dipped in tempo and that the whole thing could be saved by cutting the first four bars of drums. There was something special there that had to be preserved. Kate's ears had succeeded where mine had failed because i had lost perspective. A good woman can help steer your ship and keep your tunes in the right groove. Had she not spoken up, the song would have been less than it could have been. Kate truly saved the day.

Working on this project alone has been very fruitful and satisfying. But without an outside pair of ears popping in now and then, the whole process can become myopic. Very few people have heard these tracks, but I value the input of those who have stopped in because sometimes their mouths say things my ears couldn't initially hear. My ears are pretty finely tuned despite their shortcomings, but they aren't perfect. Music is, after all, a form of communication. When all is said and done, I want to reach people. No wonder that an extra pair should bring such needed insight into how music is felt and experienced.

Every Note

Producing, engineering, writing and performing an album on your own can evoke the grave specter of self-indulgence. With no one to tell you "No!" you might go over the edge. It might just look like you're showing off. Either you really are that talented, which seems unlikely, or you're really talented and nobody wants to work with you because you're a miserable human being. Or you're a real nerd, which in my case is probably right on the money. I want to do this merely because I can. Or rather, because I can't help myself.

I learned about audio production in the age of analog tape. I worked at WPKN, a community radio station in Bridgeport, CT when I was a teenager in the early 80s. I learned how to edit audio tape with a razor blade and soaked in the basics from guys with lots of experience. I learned about overdubbing when the first cassette multi-trackers came on the market and later got to record my own music at Webster University's 16 track studio. I've made several records in both analog and digital since then and I'm glad that my experience straddles both the analog and digital eras.

I still haven't lost a sense of wonder about it all. I'm still easily moved by chord progressions, easily excited by sounds, even ordinary ones. I love the very idea of capturing sounds for posterity. But I'm a musician and songwriter first and foremost, and I've long considered the recording process to be a natural outgrowth of writing songs. I've worked with good engineers, looking over their shoulders and learning their craft as they helped me pursue my own. This is the first time I've taken on the responsibility of engineering my recordings past the demo stage. If I had known when I was a kid what amazingly powerful tools would be available in the future, I would have been astonished.

No matter what the medium, setting out to play every note on a collection of songs--including real drums--is a daunting, time-consuming process. I'm making an album under difficult conditions, in a cramped space, with bare-bones equipment, some self imposed restrictions and raw inspiration...God, I love a challenge! But how I achieve the goal is secondary to the fact that I'm trying to get some songs out--songs that I believe are solid enough to warrant all this fuss. And I'd go through fire to put a song across the way it should be. I'm just like that.

So here are the basic guidelines, some self-imposed, others determined by circumstances and resources:

1. Methods
For the instrumental tracks, I'm treating my computer like an old analog machine--set up the mic and play the part from beginning to end, just like the old days. I'm trying to avoid excessive punch-ins or comping, resorting to those methods only when any given take is at least 98% there. Needless to say, it's a very time consuming process, but the result is a sound that feels closer to a band performing. I wont be nearly so rigid when the time comes to record vocals, however. I'll comp and fly in to my heart's content. I'm using Logic 8 Express on my Mac. for all tracking and mixing.

2. Gear
I have all the instruments I need including several guitars and basses. The drums are on a permanent mic setup after much trail and error. My firewire interface has only two inputs, so I have to be creative when getting the drums to sound right. This worried me at first, but now I see it as a good thing. I'm using classic keyboard sounds inside my Mac controlled by a MIDI controller I bought for $20. It works just fine.

3. Discipline
The lack of multiple inputs and outboard processing gear means I have to be frugal and creative to get the sounds I'm looking for. I want a very clean, direct, up-front sound on this album, so the limitations are a blessing in disguise. These limitations keep me from going overboard and keep my focused. Apart from some guitar effects, I'm using nothing more than EQ and compression to sculpt the sounds, and even then only to carve out space for each part.

I want to limit laying down parts to what is absolutely necessary to make the songs work. The backing tracks generally have no more than five or six tracks. Ideally, I want to sub mix vocal backgrounds when the time comes so that when it comes to final mixdown there are no more than twelve faders or information to deal with--and that's at the absolute maximum. That's my goal and I'm sticking to it.


I don't want to put too fine a point on the fact that I have a visual impairment, and while it's way, way down on the list of things I think about when working on these tracks, I'd be lying if I said it didn't make things a bit more difficult. I'm using Logic because it's the most visually straightforward option out there that I've found. I use screen magnification software, which means I often don't see the whole picture. I'm often zeroed in on specific areas of the scree. It's a challenge, but I'm becoming pretty proficient.

So those are the parameters. So far, it sounds pretty good. I may not have the best equipped studio in the world, but what I lack in luxury I make up for in time and gumption. So far, limitations have brought out the best in me. This isn't merely a blog about the process of getting an album done, although it is certainly that. It's the inner processes which interest me.

Faced with adversity, I hope to grow and exceed my own expectations. That's what this blog is really about.