Tag Archives: technology

Usual Rubbish

Jamming along with the little screen box

Get Music Here

Well now, I can’t hear you. Can you hear me? Say again. Once more. Nope, no … bad luck. Plunk your guitar a couple of times. I said … oh, damn it, just pick up your phone and call me. Cheese and crackers!

Now, I know there are a lot of musicians out there who are more conversant with technology than we are here in Big Green. True, we were relatively early adopters of the internets and mp3 music files. But frankly we’ve been standing still since, oh, I don’t know … the early 2000s or so. And while our friends in other bands have been connecting from across the continent using all manner of web-based gizmo, we’ve been sitting in adjacent rooms with two paper cups and a string.

Well, my friends, that’s about to change. I don’t know whether the change will be better or worse, but whatever happens, no more cups, no more strings.

Serious upgrade … seriously

Now, before you use a new technology to perform or record, you want to make sure it works, right? Sure you do. Think of all the times we ran off half cocked with some new piece of gear, only to learn much later how foolish we had been. You know how it is. The gizmo arrives in a big cardboard box hauled in by the UPS guy. You pull the box open, plug it in, and watch the pretty lights flash on and off. All is well until you try to insert some sounds into it. That’s when the wheels come off. (Did I mention there were wheels?)

I’m thinking of back when we bought that Roland VS-2480 deck with the landau roof and a belt in the back. We plugged a bunch of wires into it and spun it around a couple of times, but it was no good. The batter had only barely begun to set, and the top didn’t look nearly brown enough. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) had already whipped up the icing, and here we were, cake still in the oven, not even close to …. Oh, wait. I’ve mixed up that Roland deck with our new convection oven. My apologies.

Dude, I can't hear anything.

Matt on the horn (or Matt-o-horn)

Anyhow, we decided that in this time of social distancing it would be a good idea to try out one of these remote jamming platforms. Matt and I installed JamKazam on our computer things, hooked up some mics, and went to town. (I mean, we literally went to town to pick up some stuff.) He was in one building, I in another, and yet somehow we magically linked up so that we could hear each other swearing at our crappy internet connections.

It wasn’t all bad. Matt taught me a couple of his new songs, which I promptly forgot. We couldn’t record anything, because we’re using the free account, but when we stop being cheapskates at some point, we might just be able to do that as well. Live performances? Perhaps. Stranger things have happened, certainly. Oh the possibilities.

There’s a place …

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Something like: “Why the hell don’t we just play in the same room?” Good question, disembodied or even non-existent reader. You know what Alexander Graham Bell said: Never do something simple when you can invent something complicated. (Okay, he never said anything remotely like that. I’m just trying to add a little gravitas here – let it pass, let it pass!)

Usual Rubbish

Virtual signalling.

2000 Years to Christmas

Is this thing on? What? I think you’re muted, man. Yeah …. the little audio symbol has a cross-out graphic superimposed on it. Huh. Funny how that works.

Oh, hi. Yeah, the century is finally catching up with us … or we’re catching up with it. It’s no secret that we of Big Green tend towards the Luddite side of the ledger. When a visitor asks us to turn the heat up a bit in the Cheney Hammer Mill, we trudge out into the forest looking for dead trees to chop up. When a neighbor asks us for a cup of sugar or a pint of milk, we trudge out into the forest looking for dead trees to chop up. (That’s just something we do when people ask us stuff. Don’t ask me why … or, well, you know what we’ll do.)

So, while as a band we were relatively early to the internet and early adopters of MP3 files (as well as early arrivals in the blogosphere), a lot of this newfangled technology is way over our heads. I would ask Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to explain it to me, but he is literally made out of old plumbing fixtures and doesn’t know the first thing about interactive stuff. Sure, he interacts with the rest of us, but not in any sophisticated way – mostly just flashing lights and beeps, meted out in various coded combinations. (Fun fact: seven flashes and eleven beeps translates to “George Washington, our first president”.) So when our business associates asked to meet with us, and then told us we needed to do it through Zoom or some other thingy, we were a little confused. I mean, I know what a computer is. Does that get me anywhere?

Lincoln, you're muted!

I guess you could blame our ignorance on an over reliance on expert advisors, like our mad science advisor Mitch Macaphee. Not every band has a mad science advisor, you know … or a personal robot assistant. After a while, they do become like a crutch. We’re so used to just calling Mitch over every time we have a little problem, like, I don’t know … booking a gig on Aldebaran Five. That presents a logistical issue that we, as artists, are not particularly comfortable with attempting to solve on our own. So we get Mitch to invent some kind of ion propulsion system that could either blow us to kingdom come or propel us to Aldebaran Five. Or strand us on Aldebaran Four, just short of the mark. That’s a possibility, too. Trouble is …. Mitch never uses Zoom, so he can’t help our sorry asses on this one.

Hey … if we manage to conquer conference call technology, I guess we won’t be able to claim that 2020 was a total loss.

Usual Rubbish

Knob turning.

That doesn’t sound right to me. Twist the knob a bit further. No, no – not that knob! The one below it. Give it a good twist. Wrong way! That sounds horrible. Try the next knob down.

Oh, man … these sound consoles are so confusing. All those knobs and buttons and sliders and levers, each one doing a whole different thing. And then there’s the analog/digital thing, so a lot of the knobs and switches are assignable, which means they do DIFFERENT things for DIFFERENT people. Holy shit, that’s complicated. My brain hurts.

You see … that’s the trouble when you spend most of your life writing and playing songs and very little of your life learning the complex technologies involved in putting those songs across. Like most musicians, our reaction is … you mean I have to learn TWO things? That’s outrageous! Double duty, indeed. (As you can see, we are truly in the mainstream of American thought and sensibility.) I think about this every time I listen to old tracks from our various albums and ramshackle collections of unreleased material. I remember the hours of pulling random levers, spinning random knobs, etc., that lead to the final product and I ask myself: How? How is it that it sounds like anything at all?

Too damn complex, Mitch ... Must be a reason that sound comes out of the speakers when you play our recordings. All I know is that we make noises, put them into machines, and voila. Maybe Mitch Macaphee goes in there after we’re done and fiddles around with the sound molecules, perhaps in hopes of precipitating some kind of sonic explosion. Perhaps not. (I know that there’s usually an subsequent economic explosion, or implosion, to put the matter more precisely.)

As you know, our process for writing songs is somewhat unorthodox. I’ve described it in these blog pages before. Matt pretty much writes songs in his sleep, which explains a lot. I tend to write best in the shower, but I usually don’t have much to show for it other than some sodden, blotchy shreds of paper.

Do what you do best; that’s what I was taught. Now if I can just work out exactly what that is.