Swallowed by a Whale

Big apologies to my beloved blog. I haven't checked in for a while because I was swallowed by a digital whale. It's burped me up for the moment but it's still fast on my kicking heals. The whale, more specifically, is a recording project that I've jumped into with both feet. And once that Garageband software has sucked you into its maw, it could be weeks before you see the light of day. Suddenly the world turns into mike levels, retakes, mixdowns, plug-ins and the occasional mysteriously timed techno-glitch. The glitches come seemingly at random moments like a mindfulness bell to remind you to take an occasional break from the fever dream and breathe.

Though recording can closely resemble obsessive behavior it can also be a kind of mindfulness practice at times. You set up the equipment, push the record button and you have a few seconds to grab your pick and play that difficult passage on your guitar perfectly. The urgency of the moment forces you to concentrate, to leave distracted mental activities behind and quickly pare your world down to a few essentials— rhythm, execution, intricately dancing fingers, focused breath control, intent listening. For the duration of that little red light's prompting, one becomes a samarai of fine-motor skills. So you hover between "doing-not doing" and flat-out obsessing.


The recording process does intensify one's ability to listen, of course (at least until it make you go deaf entirely). You're constanly trying to tease out the little flaws amidst the multiple tracks that are going to drive you nuts years later once you've listened to the recorded rendition of the song for the umpteenth time. In Sinatra's later years when he was singing with a voice that was pretty much threadbare, he couldn't stand to listen to any of his recordings.

When you're away from the studio jogging down the bike trail you find yourself discerning the placement of various instruments your hearing on your iPod. Hmm. They've panned the congas just to the left of center and the bongos to the right. Interesting. You're always analysing in your mind what might make your piece sound better. Maybe a string wash. Write it. Record it. Live with it a few days. Nope. Adds dynamics but sounds too "elevator music."

This is the way my sonic worlds evolve, not with a bang but a tinker. The recording process is microcosmic. The Buddha said, As you think, so the world arises. It all starts in your head. The rhythm arrangements, the melody, the bass line, the lead line, the lyrics that sketch out the imagery, point of view and emotional coloration. the evolution of the the sound suggests new possibilities. They're tried and either endure or die slowly or quickly away depending on how they contribute to the whole — not unlike the way the universe was formed— a few fundamental ideas underpinning many ever-evolving interconnected systems and hierarchies resulting in soul wrenching symphonic music forever. After all, everything is really nothing— vibrating on a zillion different audible and inaudible levels. God's recording project.

In the studio we are all micro-God wannabees. No wonder we get distracted from our blogging duties. More on this later.