Repetition. When I'm learning a new song, it's unavoidable. As I mentioned some time ago, I pretty much fail at reading sheet music, so the only way I can really learn is by ear. And the only way to really learn something by ear is to listen to it. Many, many times. And then when I can figure out the fingering, to divvy it up into little sections and play each phrase. Many, many times. When I'm learning a new song, my life becomes the musical equivalent of Groundhog Day.
At the moment I am about halfway through What If by Emilie Autumn, a pretty, flowy kind of tune. I'm veering between the version by this harpist on YouTube (although she's playing pedal, which somewhat screws things up), and the recorded version, twisting my face into bizarre expressions as I struggle to hear the exact notes the piano is playing underneath the layers of strings and vocals. I tell myself that it will be worth it when I can play the full song smoothly. This is what I tell myself as my (bleeding, broken) fingers clamber up that stupid broken A chord for the umpteenth time.
I have already stated that repetition is the best way for me to learn. Unfortunately, the idea of anything repeating endlessly drives me crazy. Stairs. Wallpaper patterns. Carousels. Songs...
So, even though it's in the name of learning a song well, the sound of my own fingers playing the same chords over and over gives me the feeling of being in a recurring nightmare. I must be a masochist, though, because if I'm impatient to learn the song I keep at it, and at it, convinced that just one more repetition will make it perfect.
This must be how people go crazy...
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Cars and guitars
A weeks ago, I went to dinner with a good friend of mine at a great local Irish restaurant called the Shanachie. We chatted for a while of this and that. Our food had just arrived when she drew my attention to something unusual.
"Is that Bohemian Rhapsody?" she said suddenly, staring up at the speaker above her head. My spoon, lifted halfway from my bowl of soup, paused in midair as I stopped and listened. Since the Shanachie is basically a pub, the stuff that gets played there tends to be usual jigs'n'reels'n'hornpipes. But this. This was...
"It is," I said, awed. We sat in reverent silence, listening to Queen's classic rock epic being played by fiddles and accordions and tinwhistles. It was demented. And wrong. And possibly one of the coolest things I've ever heard.
After it ended, my friend observed that Bohemian Rhapsody is one of those songs that you just automatically know the words to, regardless of whether or not you're actually into Queen, and you always have to sing along when you hear it.
This got me to thinking about car songs. You have favorite songs, and you have favorite car songs, but they aren't necessarily the same songs. It might be a song by one of your favorite bands, but it might not be the one you would say was your favorite from them. In some cases it's even a band you don't really care for at all.
For instance, I may be flamed for saying this, but I don't really get the hype over Kings of Leon. I don't dislike them, exactly. They seem like a decent band, and I like the singles I've heard, but that's about as far as my interest goes. However, I freely admit that their song Use Somebody is a terrific, cheesy, fist-pumping lighter-waving arena rock anthem. Something about it is so infectious (the conveniently all-inclusive vocal range? the whoa-oa-oa bit? who the hell knows?) that you just have to sing along. And apparently, I'm not the only one who feels that way--everyone from Nickelback to Paramore has been covering the blasted thing lately. (I like the one from Bat for Lashes.)
But what else makes something a good car song? Sometimes it's something you can't sing at all, and therein lies the appeal. Regina Spektor's song Fidelity is like that. Deep down inside you know that nobody can really replicate Regina's vocal acrobatics, but it doesn't stop you from trying. Or with some songs, forget the lead, it's all about the harmonies. Most anything from the Beatles is like that for me.
Sometimes it's just the weirdness factor. I like Amanda Palmer's song Leeds United simply because it allows me to drive around with the windows down, roaring about how the sandwiches are wicked and they know me at the Mac store. I also cheerfully mangle all of the words to Nightwish's song Wishmaster--I've never been able to hear it the same way since I saw this video.
I never did find out who that band was covering Bohemian Rhapsody...
"Is that Bohemian Rhapsody?" she said suddenly, staring up at the speaker above her head. My spoon, lifted halfway from my bowl of soup, paused in midair as I stopped and listened. Since the Shanachie is basically a pub, the stuff that gets played there tends to be usual jigs'n'reels'n'hornpipes. But this. This was...
"It is," I said, awed. We sat in reverent silence, listening to Queen's classic rock epic being played by fiddles and accordions and tinwhistles. It was demented. And wrong. And possibly one of the coolest things I've ever heard.
After it ended, my friend observed that Bohemian Rhapsody is one of those songs that you just automatically know the words to, regardless of whether or not you're actually into Queen, and you always have to sing along when you hear it.
This got me to thinking about car songs. You have favorite songs, and you have favorite car songs, but they aren't necessarily the same songs. It might be a song by one of your favorite bands, but it might not be the one you would say was your favorite from them. In some cases it's even a band you don't really care for at all.
For instance, I may be flamed for saying this, but I don't really get the hype over Kings of Leon. I don't dislike them, exactly. They seem like a decent band, and I like the singles I've heard, but that's about as far as my interest goes. However, I freely admit that their song Use Somebody is a terrific, cheesy, fist-pumping lighter-waving arena rock anthem. Something about it is so infectious (the conveniently all-inclusive vocal range? the whoa-oa-oa bit? who the hell knows?) that you just have to sing along. And apparently, I'm not the only one who feels that way--everyone from Nickelback to Paramore has been covering the blasted thing lately. (I like the one from Bat for Lashes.)
But what else makes something a good car song? Sometimes it's something you can't sing at all, and therein lies the appeal. Regina Spektor's song Fidelity is like that. Deep down inside you know that nobody can really replicate Regina's vocal acrobatics, but it doesn't stop you from trying. Or with some songs, forget the lead, it's all about the harmonies. Most anything from the Beatles is like that for me.
Sometimes it's just the weirdness factor. I like Amanda Palmer's song Leeds United simply because it allows me to drive around with the windows down, roaring about how the sandwiches are wicked and they know me at the Mac store. I also cheerfully mangle all of the words to Nightwish's song Wishmaster--I've never been able to hear it the same way since I saw this video.
I never did find out who that band was covering Bohemian Rhapsody...
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Shiny new music
A quick natter to announce my excitement over the upcoming release from the Codeine Velvet Club. Strangely enough, it's another male-female vocal team, but it's a very different feel from the Paper Raincoat. It's a collaboration between Jon Fratelli (who happens to be the lead singer of a certain band I love) and Lou Hickey, who I hadn't heard of previously but she's got some great pipes. In Jon's e-mail that got sent 'round to people on the Fratellis' mailing list, he described it as "kitchen-sink music," and that's as good a description as any. Part of me likes musicians who favor a stripped-down acoustic sound, but another part of me really loves bands that go completely over the top and throw in everything but the kitchen sink (small wonder that I also love Within Temptation). Judging from the preview songs, these guys definitely belong in the second category. I'm such a sucker for a great horn section...
Check 'em out.
Check 'em out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
