psychology

Living on the Edge by Giant Ginkgo

If you are suddenly charged with landing a plane after the pilot collapses, and you are talked through the process by air traffic control, I’ll bet those fast-learned skills will be permanently burned into your psyche.  Not to mention, a successful landing would give you a tremendous confidence.  Well, alright, maybe you’d have to throw out your pants and never fly again.  (Boy, extreme metaphors can get you into trouble!)  At any rate, this would be an example of learning on ‘the Edge’, where you learn by doing, jumping in, getting your feet (and probably most of your body) wet.

Step a little closer… closer…

‘The Edge’ is a situation where you barely know enough to make it by.  It’s where you are trying to keep up and learn from those vastly better, faster, smarter, and more advanced than you.  The Edge is jumping in the deep end of the pool, sink or swim.  These can be situations find yourself in, but even better, situations you cultivate and covet.

In some ways, you are requiring yourself to move faster than thought.  You don’t have time for self-doubt – roadblocks and restrictions have to be lifted by necessity, and sometimes, you just have to drive right through them.  You take chances without over-thinking outcomes – there is no choice, and you ignore fears which might hold you back because fear is not a luxury you can entertain.  Your brain can operate in some surprising ways when forced to, where no other option exists.

Okay, brain. You don’t like me, and I don’t like you, but let’s get through this thing and …

I have a story of my own that illustrates this idea.  I’m a guitar player, and as the cliche goes, a horrible sight reader (I’m in a 12 step program).  I was invited, last minute, to sit in on a recording session where the bass player was suddenly unavailable.  I figured they knew me and my shortcomings (and this was on bass, not my main instrument!) and I thought it would be a session with simple charts and improvisation – no problem.  The “charts” turned out to be quick grand-staff print off’s from a sequencer, and required me to sight-read in the bass clef (WHAT?).   I was surrounded by some incredible musicians, true veteran session players – it was a nightmare situation!   Because it was on a tight deadline for a TV show, there was no time to ‘figure it out’…  it just had to get done, now!  I tried to stay calm, but I felt like a dump truck had parked on my chest.  At some point, I realized I was either going to play, or run out of the studio screaming, wreck any reputation I had, and forget a career in music.  The choice was not really a choice after all – I grimly focused on the sheet music sitting on the stand before me and accepted my fate.  It was pretty embarrassing, but something quite remarkable happened after a few cues – I just ’started’ reading in the bass clef.  It was as if by accepting and letting go, my brain said ‘Ok, let’s just learn this bloody fast then!’.  It was by no means a heroic turn, but once I was able to think back on the event without cringing so hard I’d hurt myself, I marveled at this sudden ‘ability’.

I’m sure we’ve all been in situations where we were on the Edge.  We committed to doing something that we perhaps weren’t quite ready for, where you had to learn on your feet, where you got by just by the skin of your teeth.

And now for a contradiction…

Sometimes, you want to avoid the Edge.  There are times when you have to perform perfectly, and where a mistep could result in disaster.  However, the one thing the Edge makes you prepare for is – anything.  You get good at being agile, flexible, adaptable.  Thinking creatively on your feet, making hard decisions fast.  It also makes you build and maintain your ‘lifelines’ – those you can call on when you know you are up against the wall and you need saving.

This is perhaps the best lesson you can get from the Edge – that you need to prepare for the Moment.  If you arrive somewhere and your big chance arrives unexpectedly, and you aren’t ready, that might be the last chance you get.  Imagine yourself at the place you want to be, and that place being the Edge – will you survive?  Succeed?

Late July Session at Q Music

Producing. One of the least understood gigs in the music world.  Just what is a producer, and what is their role in the making of music?

Definitely, maybe…

First, let’s get some definitions out of the way.  Although they share the same title, a Film Producer has very little in common with a Music Producer.  A Film Producer “is someone who creates the scenes and conditions for making movies.. [he/she]  initiates, co-ordinates, supervises and controls matters such as fund-raising, hiring key personnel and arranging for distributors.”  Film producers rarely have a whole lot of creative control – this is the realm of the Film Director.

A Music Producer has a lot more creative influence on a project, but the amount that a producer can affect the end result of a musical product can vary a lot.  Simply put, a producers job is to take the raw materials rendered by the artist to the point before recording begins, and help guide the shape of how those are turned into a final, coherent, artistic form.  Their role is generally collaborative, working alongside the artist (and sometimes the label) to best represent their vision.  A producer might also serve as an intermediary/advocate between the artist and the label, attempting to move a project to a point where both parties are happy with the results.  Producers should see the project from both perspectives – the artists vision, and the requirements of producing something that will be accessible and ultimately critically and fiscally successful.  The producer aims for balance.

So, what exactly does a producer DO?

Here is a shortlist of some of the hands-on work a producer might engage in.  I’ve kept this to the confines of a producer working with an artist on a record, but it can be more or less applied to other situations as well.

Mentor/coach the artist – help them maintain a healthy and productive mental state, improve on weaknesses while maintaining their confidence and the morale of the team.  Push for more when needed, know when to back off.  See the threshold of an artist or situation – what is the best that can be achieved?  How much is too much, when does pressure becomes detrimental?

Help select the best material from the artists long-list of work, suggest collaborators and/or other material to fill in any holes.  Artists may bring a massive collection of songs and sketches to the table, and that needs to be mined for those rough diamonds.  Sometimes, there might be a shortfall, and they need to be encouraged to write more, or find alternatives such as covers.  In some cases, the artist may benefit from working with an additional collaborator – another songwriter or lyricist.  This is a very delicate situation, where the artists confidence is in jeopardy.   A producer is like a doctor – what is their bedside manner?

Help develop the material/artist, improve arrangements, define a direction.  Some songs might still be sketches, need a chorus, a bridge, a hook, or some other X factor – a sound effect, or production style.  The material may be in a very simple sketch form, and the producer will help arrange it for band, and suggest instrumental parts that enhance and define – a brass section or string quartet for instance, or even decide it should be for voice and guitar only.

Help determine (and then maintain the consistency of) the sound of a project – what instruments, styles, materials and methods are going to be used to achieve a specific result?  A Death Metal band will require vastly different production styles and materials than a Bluegrass band.  The producer has to have a big-picture, overarching view of the project as a whole.  A producer’s mind is an encyclopedia of techniques and technical knowledge, as well as an idea factory that can problem solve quickly and effectively under pressure.

Guide performances – create a situation that brings out the best in an artist.  This involves more coaching – knowing the psychology of your artist – knowing what they’ll need and providing it before they ask.  This might involve creative problem solving to make them feel more comfortable in the sterile studio environment, or finding an amazing instrument that helps their playing.  It also means saying “don’t worry – it’s all taken care of”, and putting out fires, handling problems, and generally making it seem smooth, seamless, and fun.

Bring it together -  Select the appropriate studio(s), players, collaborators, equipment and instruments, engineers, which will help to contribute to that final sound.  Great producers are very well connected, and have a vast network of musicians, engineers, and resources to select from.  Once you have great material, and great people to perform and record it, very little can go wrong.  On the other hand, the wrong person for a gig can sap time, creative energy, morale, and money from a project.

Perform on the record – many producers are also excellent artists and musicians in their own right and can leave their mark on a record in a very tangible way by contributing musical material.

Oversee the entire record production process from tracking to mastering, and make hard decisions when something isn’t working to toss out, move on, re-invent, overhaul, start-over, salvage, etc., while maintaining high morale and creative effectiveness.  If something isn’t working or can’t be saved, the producer’s ‘bedside manner’ is incredibly important – the artist and the team must never feel that all is lost or that something horrible has happened – it has to feel like a positive part of the process, and that progress is being made.

Stay out of the way when necessary – sometimes, a producer’s job is to shut up and stand back – let the process happen on it’s own and only gently course correct as necessary.  To much messing around can destroy natural organic performances, and too much control can crush the creative process, and the ‘happy mistakes’ that you want to occur.  The producer must also be able to see those for what they are, and jump on little opportunities that others might miss.  They have to know what take has magic in it, and not overtax the artist with too many options or extra work that doesn’t need to be done.

That’s a take!

There are so many variables in the making of a musical recording.  What I’ve talked about here is based on some of my experiences, and many conversations with those much more experienced then I.  What do you think the role of the producer is/should be, and what are your experiences in producing or being produced?

Red Pill or Blue Pill? by Gary Martin

Back in April, I did a guest post on StudioManifesto.ca called Voodoo Your Creative Flow, which dealt with using rituals to help maximize your creative effectiveness.  Wired magazine recently published a very interesting article that talks about the mysterious Placebo Effect, and it got me thinking about how this might be applied in a similar fashion.

The Placebo Effect is an absolutely fascinating phenomenon, and interesting on it’s own even outside any possible applications to creative work.  It was originally discovered after a WWII nurse injected a wounded soldier with saline instead of morphine, basically out of desperation in the face of shortages.  She reported to the anesthetist she was assisting that despite the fact that he did not receive an actual does of morphine, the soldier nonetheless experienced all the effects had one been administered (his pain was relieved, and the effects of shock were offset).  Since then, standard practice requires all pharmaceuticals must undergo rigorous testing in order to show that they considerably surpass the placebo in effectiveness, before they can put them on the market.  Another point of interest:  I have heard (though I have no specific citation of this) that a person taking Valium must know that they are taking Valium for it to be effective – if they are unaware that it is being administered, it has no effect. Recent studies show that the placebo is becoming more and more effective, and it’s becoming more and more difficult for new pharmaceuticals to beat them.   Crazy, huh?

At any rate, the Placebo Effect is another pretty amazing indicator of the power and potential of the human mind, and I think as creative people, this warrants some consideration.  I don’t have any specific suggestions on how you might apply this – a sugar pill that makes you awesome? – and I would love to see some dialogue and discussions.  If it’s possible that simply believing in the efficacy of something can yield measurable physical results, I think we are currently vastly underestimating how much creative problem solving is actually possible.

Check out the full article here, and then come back here and post your thoughts!

"Mobius" by Kevin D. Clarke

In a previous post, I described my process in creating the music for Jason Leaver’s video installation, Mobius, which premiered at Scotiabank Nuit Blanche on Oct. 3rd.  The experience of being a part of this project was fascinating on a number of levels that I felt were worthy of sharing.

Public Space

Before Nuit Blanche proper, Jason was invited to preview his work in a public setting, namely Eaton’s Center mall in downtown Toronto.  In this environment, it was very interesting seeing people’s reaction to the work.

Context has such a powerful effect on how people view and respond to a piece.  By taking it out of the gallery setting, I wondered: Do you get a much more natural and immediate reaction, without the anxiety or preconceptions of how art ’should’ be viewed?

Jason had used yellow tape to secure cables to the floor – these had the unintended appearance of police tape cordoning off a no-go zone.  Many people approached the exhibit with genuine curiosity, but were reluctant to cross this invisible ‘threshold’.  This was exactly the opposite of what Jason wanted, but luckily he was just the man to handle it.  Jason fears approaching no one, and with big arm gestures and engaging banter would quickly usher these shy observes into the center of his piece, pointing out elements of interest and suggesting different ways to get the most out of the experience.  His enthusiasm and willingness to explain without a hint of condescension was catching and inspiring.  Jason is about as unpretentious as they come, and simply oozes pure joy about his work and people’s reactions.   His love is a love of the work, not of what the work will get him.  It’s not about him, it’s about the viewer’s experience.  He is a brilliant ambassador to the world of art – when I saw how engaged and joyous the viewers were  in their experience, I thought – this is it!

Interpretations come in many forms!

It was also very interesting to view the work in the context of a mall from an aesthetic and technical perspective.  Already a surreal piece, it became even stranger when seen next to a Sears and trendy clothing shops.  The bustle of the mall, the noise, and people’s surprise and wonder at this unexpected object all added to and changed it’s meaning.  My own interpretation of the piece is that it works as a commentary on the modern cubicle dweller, the feeling that you are trapped by the forces of convention and commerce to perform the same actions perpetually, day after day.  As a location then, a mall and it’s association with the cycle of work/spend/work/spend, is kind of perfect.  When I asked Jason about the most unusual comment he received, he told me about a woman who was very offended and more or less yelled at him about “playing at being God”, and how could he keep this poor man trapped in this terrible loop?  The suggestion that he could stop the cycle at any moment using a remote control was met by more righteous anger, as if it  were being suggesting that, like Jesus, he was able to perform miracles.  Blasphemy!  Congratulations, Jason: you’re now ‘officially’ an Artist.

Ephemera

For my part, it was very interesting to be part of something where the work existed only for the short time it was installed and running.  Sure, my music files still exist and can be played on any manner of system, but the ‘real’ work – Mobius – in it’s intended final form, exists specifically in it’s four screen projected state, with the sound played back by four independent speakers associated with each of the screens in the quadrant.  The experience of standing in the quadrant, and how the music and visuals affect one another cannot be recreated in any other manner.  So this was it – I would experience it for those short moments, and then it would fade to memory.   The surprise of how the visuals and sound interacted was also a treat – there were elements I left to chance, and stuff that I had no way of properly previewing.  In an age of the instant gratification of orchestral mock-ups and digital photos it was a delicious tease, and I did linger and savour it for much longer because I knew after this it would be gone, probably forever.  This must be what composers must have felt like in the years before recordings – their orchestral works would be heard during rehearsal and performance, and not again until another concert could be mounted.

A full moon and Nuit Blanche!

What a vibe, what an energy!  It was incredible to see so many people out wandering the streets and taking in the sights and sounds.  It was a youthful, vibrant, excited, and positive feeling.  After taking in a number of exhibits (which included people being suspended in folded pentagram cradles, a giant pool of vodka, and a midway of sorts with rides supposedly operated by ex-bankers), my wife, my friends Aaron and Goran and I finally found our way to Mobius at around midnight, which was situated in a gallery in Cabbagetown on the Eastern edge of Zone A.  The small, single room space was stuffed to bursting with people, and a very satisfied Jason sat off to one side listening to the many conversations of observers as they discovered and interpreted the piece.  The reception it was getting was fantastic – people ‘got it’ and got into it.  I think the fact that there was a mystery unraveling before their eyes was a particularly attractive.  I enjoyed the somewhat claustrophobic but intimate setting, and having the piece projected on fabric added a kind of mysterious ephemeral quality.  I was surprised to find that I felt the sound at the previous installation was better; not in terms of quality, but in terms of consistency.  The music and the film are each the same for each of the four screens, but at an offset.  When the music played on 4 identical speaker systems, this sense of the material being the same but playing with and against itself was more clear.  But this was a small technicality and certainly did not detract from the piece on whole.  A great moment was when a group of film students enthusiastically told Jason of how inspiring the experience was – they were genuinely excited.  When Jason asked one about her background, she stammered a little, and Will (the actor in the film) came up behind Jason and teased:  “He’s just a man”.  Industry accolades are great, but there is a special thrill when a student of your craft is excited by your work.

In the end, I feel very lucky to have been part of this project.  Firstly, because it was a successful work and deeply satisfying for me, but also because I got to see it in a number of contexts and iterations, which was terrifically interesting.  I also got to go from being a fan of Nuit Blanche to an active participant, and got to enjoy the feeling that I had helped in making someone’s night just a little more magical.  It was a memorable evening that even the rain and a lingering cold couldn’t dampen, and I am already counting the days until next year.

The Mysterious Mobius

I was recently asked to produce a music/sound score to an installation exhibited as part of Scotiabank’s Nuit Blanche 2009 in Toronto.  Billed as  ‘a free all-night contemporary art thing’, it transforms the city for a 12 hour period, as over 500 artists use public, gallery and ‘unexpected’ places to exhibit their work.  If you’ve ever been, you know it’s a blast and absolute magic – and for me, getting to be a part of creating that magic was very exciting.

Jason Leaver’s “Mobius” is a mysterious piece – a video installation with four independent screens facing one another in a quadrant, each playing the same film footage at an offset of %25, and looping perpetually.  The film itself follows a loose narrative, with no real beginning or end – a man is caught in a series of actions and events which lead him inexorably back to where he “started” – a sort of time/space shift where he begins his “loop” again.  The real brilliance in the piece is how the film interacts with “itself”, via the screens and the offset.  The character of the man is at times aware of and interacts with himself at different points in the loop – we are never sure if he is aware that it is himself.  These points sync with one another in each screen;  while one uses the phone, the other answers, while one calls out, the other can see and hear a shadowy figure across the way, calling out.  Once the installation is running, it is a compelling concept – the character seems to ‘reach out’ out of the time-space of film, across the space of the exhibiting area and the viewer, to communicate with himself in another time.

My first challenge was to decide what the music was going to address:  the character and his motivations, or the conceptual, formal aspects of the film?  In the end I didn’t want to make too much of a statement on the piece itself, and rather treat it in a strictly formal way – enhancing the mood of the piece and offering moments of focus that aligned with the action while interacting with the other screens/events.  I began by sketching out the action on paper, plotting out the events, and producing a “quad” time-line to see  interactions and relationships.  I liked the idea that to a certain extent, the final result would be left to chance, and so I began experimenting with sounds and processing.  I responded to the feeling that I got from the footage: the grim, urban colors, the emptiness, sense of foreboding and confusion, and the eerie surrealist quality of the ’story’.  To address the idea of temporal loops  (real or imagined/metaphoric), I played with reversing some material, and gave the whole a reverb drenched, desolate quality.  Heavily processed violas and oceanic guitars seem to moan and cry from afar, while the sound of an ancient ceiling fan I a sampled and shifted down 3 octaves, rumbles ominously but nearly imperceptibly below.  Strange and alien motifs ring out in murky space, drawing the observers attention around the quadrant to correlating events.  Once I laid up the first draft , I realized that even a small amount of material will sound tremendously busy and overwhelming when stacked 4 high, and so I had to revisit the material and cut out a large number of elements.  Eventually, I found the balance that resulted in an extremely sparse track on it’s own, but worked when played in the quadrant.

Check out Mobius at Scotiabank Nuit Blanche 2009, Zone A Independent Project, Oct. 3rd in Toronto!