I Hate Mornings

There’s a lively discussion happening in the comments to Steve Lawson’s article After CDs. What’s Next?. Steve reckons we should be excited about the artistic freedom we’re afforded by abandoning the format of The Album:

It’s amazing how containers can make us lazy about content. The assumptions we make about the nature of music, collections of music, what constitutes a ‘complete work’ etc.

I absolutely agree, and I’ve come across a wonderful example of a post-Album project that not only breaks the boundaries by being 185 songs long, but is delivered as a podcast, features 185 different artists and provides better sleeve notes than I ever saw on a CD.

I’m not going to miss the album that much.

Seriously. I never thought the day would come when I would be happy to leave my record collection (and my 1983 direct drive turntable) languishing in a barn. But that’s where they are. If I feel sentimental about my dog-eared 12″ of Deep Purple’s Burn (like I did last week), I grab the torrent and ten minutes later it’s on my iPod as I stroll down the street grinning and brandishing the air guitar.

Musicians get quite precious about The Album as an artistic form, and there are loads of albums that are so much more than a simple playlist of songs. Sleeve notes and artwork also help to create a listening experience around the music. That’s great, and there’s nothing to stop musicians creating 45-minute collections of songs for download if that’s what they want to do. They can even separate them into Side A and Side B if they like. Two ZIP files instead of one. And sleeve notes work really well online – check out David Jennings’ wonderful 69 Love Songs companion piece.

When you think about it, the album was good for a few things:

• It gave musicians a form within which to create music.
• It gave the audience an easy and understandable way of supporting an artist.
• It gave the record company a product.
• It was a carrier for sleeve notes and artwork (aka. context).

Now the record industry is concerning itself with collapse, profits and Britain’s Got Talent. The audience has a new easy, understandable way of supporting an artist (iTunes etc.). The musicians are starting to realise that it’s not very difficult to replace the creative limitations of the album format with limitations of their own devising. Being creative is, after all, what they are supposed to be good at.

So now we can create whatever musical projects we like to catch people’s attention, it’s the really creative artists who are making waves. Roger and Dave are a pair of musicians, artists and producers who work in New York. They have come up with the best idea I have heard in, well, ever.

The Beatles Complete On Ukulele

It sounds like the kind of project I would find scrawled in my Moleskine the morning after a party. On finding this message from my enlightened self, I would chuckle and cross it neatly out. Because I’m not as brilliant and visionary as Roger and Dave.

The concept is simple (and it’s all about the concept):

Roger and Dave will….

1. Record & perform on ukulele all 185 original compositions by The Beatles with 185 guest artists.
2. Write essays to coincide with each release.
3. Make available for download one new recording and essay every Tuesday for 185 weeks, beginning January 20, 2009 (Inauguration Day) and climaxing July 24, 2012 (The eve of the London Olympics).

Each song is posted on a simple Blogger website, and there’s an RSS feed so you can subscribe to the project as a podcast in iTunes. And that’s where it becomes really interesting, and where Roger and Dave have created something new and beautiful.

It’s all about the experience

When you listen to the latest Beatles cover on your iPod, the accompanying essay (aka. sleeve notes) is displayed on your iPod screen. So you read it as you’re listening. They give you an amusing but incredibly well researched insight into the writing and recording of the original, including anecdotes and rambles about what John and Paul were up to at that point in their songwriting career. They critique the song and the recording as songwriters, producers, curators and archivists. Then they introduce you to whoever is covering the song (a different musician sings each week, and they provide the ukulele and produce the rest of the track).

By the time you’re half way through reading the sleeve notes the song has finished, so you put it on again to get the rest of the essay. And maybe again. You listen to the song two or three times through while reading about it and immersing yourself in the details and the stories. Does this sound familiar? Isn’t this the mythical value of The Album? Didn’t you used to sit on your bed listening to the album all the way through two or three times while scouring the sleeve notes and the artwork for context, reassurance and trivia?

That’s how I felt when I sat on the train listening to Emily Zuzik singing Hold Me Tight (one of the most exhiliratingly cool tracks I’ve heard for years) and reading the essay. Try it. Right now. Press play and read the quote:

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The tune features an incredibly precocious vocal melody over a swinging American Rhythm and Blues form. Fabulous harmony. But critically, Hold Me Tight is marred by insipid innocuous non-threatening male expressions of affection, designed to elicit the slightest of squeals from a twittering Tween. Lyrically typical of the songs Lennon and McCartney were writing at the time, our Hero is not even getting to first base. Hold Me Tight. I Wanna Hold Your Hand. I’m Happy Just To Dance With You. Young girls like to be liked. But not too much. Don’t go too far.

Musically this song is a success. Lyrically, embarrassing.

What’s going on here?

The contrast between the Beatles STD-riddled, licentious and voluptuous pill popping real lives, and the lyrics of their early teenage puppy love songs, was vast. I believe this cognitive dissonance was a central facet of their initial appeal.

I don’t know about you, but that’s what I’m looking for in a listening experience. An experience. I want my music to arrive with this much context built in. We’ve been doing it with video, with live shows and with websites of vaguely interesting writing. And now Roger and Dave are doing it with a podcast. And a ukulele.

It Won’t Be Long

When you come across a project like this, you would be insane not to get involved. So when Roger and Dave asked me to record a song for TBCOU, I dug out my old Beatles records and searched for a song to cover. I didn’t have to look far. It Won’t Be Long is the first track on With The Beatles, which is the first Beatles album I ever heard while digging through my dad’s collection back in the late eighties. The song is fun, cheesy, and energetic. Ideal.

I recorded a quirky but authentic version with a simple guitar track, the main riff on piano and sixteen tracks of harmonies, and emailed it to New York. Having heard the spotless production and impeccable wit of the first 21 tracks of the project, I have a feeling this is going to be incredible.

If you want my musical recommendation for 2009 (and a podcast that will keep delivering amazing versions of songs you already love until 2012!) I suggest you subscribe to TBCOU right now. And in case you need any more persuasion, here’s the latest episode. A dub reggae version of Blackbird. Un. Fucking. Believeable. ;)

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I love AudioBoo. It’s a wonderfully simple app, and I’ve been trying to figure out how to use it as a songwriter.

In case you haven’t come across it, AudioBoo is an iPhone app that lets you record a short podcast (5 minutes max), title it, tag it, attach a photo and upload it straight to the AudioBoo website, which is set up like Twitter (you follow people, they follow you, everyone has a party, etc.).

Idea 1: An insight into the songwriting process

My first inclination was to record song fragments or ideas as I write them. It’s a romantic idea, that listeners could have a direct line into the songwriter’s head as he toys with fully-orchestrated sections of potential song. But that doesn’t really fit my way of writing. I tend to have an almost complete lyric before I start strumming, and a podcast of me reciting half-written lyrics doesn’t sound great. It’s not that I’m precious about my unfinished works (I tend to publish first, rewrite later), but a photo of a notebook or a Tumblr post would be more useful than AudioBoo.

Idea 2: Bootlegging and reviews

Secondly I tried AudioBooing gigs. I recorded one on the way to see Little Feat, with the intention of using AudioBoo to capture the atmosphere of the gig later. But I was having too much fun to bother fiddling with technology, and there was zero signal in the Academy anyway. And if I can’t upload straight away, I lose the motivation pretty quickly.

I had more luck at an acoustic Stornoway gig at the Rusty Bicycle, where I embarrassed my brother by sliding my iPod Touch across the floor (Ghostbusters style) to record a song before videoing it with the N95 in one hand and taking stills with the ES400D in the other. Because the gig was completely acoustic and I was two feet from the band I could get decent recordings of Fuel Up and We Are The Battery Human. But I don’t think AudioBoo is going to be the next killer bootlegging app.

Idea 3: Covers and quick demos

I was working on a cover of The Beatles’ It Won’t Be Long for Roger and Dave’s Complete Beatles On Ukulele project, and my third AudioBoo strategy was to record a quick version of that mid-rehearsal. That worked pretty well, helped by Colt Seavers‘ AudioBooTH project, which gives context to musical and art-related boos (and happened to be in the middle of a “covers” week). A few days later I recorded a Sunday morning cover of a Little Feat song. I think using AudioBoo to record quick and dirty versions of songs (covers or not) is something that I’ll be playing with more.

Idea 4: New life for unsung classics

I had an idea a while ago that I could use AudioBoo as a dumping ground for the best of the old, unfinished songs that don’t make it onto albums and websites. I occasionally listen back my archives of demos and experiments, and I always come across something brilliant. It might not be a polished recording. It might not even be much of a song. But it’s a snapshot of a particular interesting moment.

I guess it’s like the “outtakes and B-sides” you get on albums and DVDs. There’s something very immediate and personal about them. Thinking about it now, some of my favourite albums are made up of tracks that didn’t make the cut. Hoy Hoy is a wonderful Little Feat double gatefold album of live tracks, demos, alternate takes and b-sides. Naked Baby Photos is the same for Ben Folds Five. In the post-album digital chaos of ihatemornings.com, maybe AudioBoo can be my outlet for outtakes and B-sides.

On the train home from work my iPod shuffled me up a song I wrote for the 50/90 challenge last year, and which never made it onto my website. It’s called Putting Your Hand In The Blender Again, named after a phrase my girlfriend uses to describe somebody revisiting a bad relationship. In a fit of excitement I recorded a quick intro, then rummaged around for some jack-to-phono leads, plugged my laptop into my stereo, plugged my stereo into my iPod and recorded the song into AudioBoo in glorious hi-fi stereo:

Getting a line input into AudioBoo

If you’re an AudioBoo user, you might be wondering how I managed to get a line in to AudioBoo. It just records from the mic, doesn’t it? Not if you have a 1st Generation iPod Touch and a MicroMemo mic. This random combination gives you a stereo mic or line level input into which you can plug just about anything. I’ve bookmarked a couple of useful links to get you going.

If you have an iPhone or iPod Touch you can get AudioBoo from the App Store (for free!), and if you don’t you can still check out my boos on the website.

Being good at music is not interesting. It’s boring. As a musician (or any kind of artist) you need to earn people’s attention. It’s not good enough to write good songs, practise for ages and record a good album. It’s not good enough to gig five nights a week. It’s not even good enough to get signed any more. All of these things are useful, but none guarantees you people’s attention.

When you play live, you enter into a negotiation with the audience. You start by putting in the effort to promote the gig and get them to turn up. In return for that, they arrive. And they promise you their attention for about 3 minutes.

So what do you do when the spotlight is shining in your face, when you have one chance to transform a moment of fleeting attention into a long and beautiful relationship between your art and its audience?

You have to entertain people

That’s your half of the deal. You entertain people in return for their attention. Like it or not, you’re an entertainer. All musicians like it on some level: there’s no way people would put that much effort into playing music if they didn’t want some other people to hear it. But a lot of musicians persuade themselves that they don’t like it at all. They want to hang on stage like a masterpiece on a museum wall and be appreciated.

For reference, the following are not in themselves entertaining:

• Virtuosic playing
• Baring your soul
• Beautifully poetic lyrics
• Playing in time
• Singing in tune
• Dressing cleverly
• Being loud
• Tuning up
• Having a funny band name

If you’re not convinced, remember this: people aren’t choosing which gig to go to. They are choosing how to be entertained. Your competition isn’t other bands. It’s widescreen TV, pubs, clubs, dinner with friends or a good book. I’ve seen gigs by very good bands that were less entertaining than reading a chapter of Titus Groan with a cup of tea. And those bands have now lost my attention. I know they’re good, I know I enjoy their music. But I’m not engaged any more. I don’t have time for bands that aren’t going to entertain me.

Let me be clear about what I mean by “entertain”. I’m not talking about cheese, I’m not talking about audience interaction or variety shows. And I don’t mean “funny”. You can be entertaining and moody. You can be entertaining and quiet. You can be entertaining and serious. You can be entertaining without talking. You can be entertaining without moving. But like my old friend Nick used to say, “Funny is always better than good.”

To entertain an audience is to hold their attention and give them enjoyment. The word “entertain” can also mean to receive someone as a guest, and that’s a good way of thinking about it. By making music and putting it out there, you have invited a bunch of people into your musical home. It’s now your responsibility to make it a good party. If people sit in silence listening to you tell six or seven stories then leave, it probably wasn’t a good party.

Ben’s Big Gig was all about entertainment

We made sure Ben’s Big Gig was entertaining. Whenever there was a decision to be made there was one final criterion: “Will it be entertaining?” I dropped some of my favourite songs from the set list. I put the band together. I had the Funky Llamas play an interval set instead of being a support band. I gave the audience the Twitter screen so they could heckle. I booked George Chopping to compère. I booked Tom Greeves to do a whole stand-up set in the middle of the gig. I put two shrubs on stage. I got Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall to endorse the gig. All in the name of entertainment.

I knew the music would be good. But I also knew that if I just walked on stage and played sixteen songs back to back people would be bored out of their skulls.

Music has a universal appeal. Most people will enjoy most music given the right context. If you entertain the audience, they will like you and your music. They will abandon all preconceptions about your musical style and your character. They will have a favourite song. They will tell their friends about how great a time they had and how great the music was.

Steve Lawson knows this. He plays solo bass guitar. Nobody in their right mind hears the phrase “solo bass guitar” and rushes to buy tickets. It’s a hard act to sell, if that’s the way you try to sell it. Luckily, Steve doesn’t do that. He has interesting conversations with people. He talks about how great house concerts are. He tells people about the exciting stuff he does with social media. He earns their attention. Then when he mentions months later that he’s putting on a house concert tour, or playing a gig somewhere, people turn up. And they enjoy the music. A lot. Steve’s a brilliant musician, but in a way that’s a bonus. The audience turn up for him and for the event.

Sell it on the story

The bonus of having an entertaining show is that you can sell it on its entertainment factor, not on the quality of the music. When the audience arrives and hears how great the music is they will want to buy CDs, sign up to mailing lists and tell their friends about you. But that’s not what gets them in the door.

You can’t get people excited about a show by telling them how in tune the singer is, how perfectly the band replicates the sound of the album or how efficiently the band can set up and soundcheck. People get excited by the prospect of entertainment. That’s why circus posters say things like “Death-defying leaps!”, “A woman with the head of a chicken!” or “Monkeys!” instead of “A really well-rehearsed band accompanying an seemingly dangerous acrobatic performance for two hours with a short interval”.

That would be boring.

And speaking of funny…

I just finished editing the video of Dressing Up from the Big Gig. Nothing makes me happier than the sound of 200 people singing “on a t-shirt, yeah, yeah”. ;)

This is a guest post by Xander, who helped me create the gig, and had much more to do with the venue than I did.

Ben’s Big Gig was always going to have to rely on the nuts and bolts of traditional gig planning when it came to a space in which to hold it, but because of the interesting challenges that we were going to be bringing to the table, the venue was likely to be a huge component of that success. Thankfully, The North Wall was open to new ideas, enthusiastic and technically savvy, and it helped that they got as excited as we did about putting on something ambitious and new.

A good venue makes life much easier

As a venue we can’t fault the North Wall. It’s a flexible space with the ability to alter its seating as necessary to accommodate the staging area you choose, but in addition to this they were both able to meet our slightly odd requirement of ‘cabaret style’ tables in place of the front few rows and also to allow us a flexible arrangement in the upstairs gallery, which gave us the opportunity to hold back a few seats in case tickets sold out (which they did). This kind of flexibility was key to our success and is an advantage that smaller venues tend to have over some of the costlier and bigger spaces. They gave us the breathing space to get on with other stuff, variables that we wanted to control. The venue you use should be there to support you from the beginning, not just to take a cut of the tickets at the end.

These are things that any decent venue/space should, and usually will, offer but there are a host of other ways in which they enabled our slightly bizarre, but entirely successful venture into the world of Cabaret 2.0.

They were willing to take a risk

They said yes to staging an event which we were struggling to describe even to ourselves, and they threw themselves into it. This initial show of goodwill was a clear demonstration of the community collaboration that wove a thread throughout the entire process of putting on Ben’s Big Gig. We went to see them and we asked what was possible – they asked us what they could do, we asked them what we could do and together we decided that we could do brand new things and interesting things, ultimately because we’d started a conversation and got them engaged in the process.

We got them excited. ;)

They have an I.T. department

The fact that it was at the North Wall (and therefore connected to the associated St. Edwards School) meant that we had access to an IT department that was able to create a bespoke wireless network for the gig, open up ports on their ethernet network to allow for video streaming and generally offer support that you are unlikely to find in any other comparable venue. Without this, the process of installing, maintaining and running a network with the capability of live-streaming video feeds would have made the setup for the gig (a ‘one night only’ affair with a limited get in time) immeasurably more difficult. Past experience (#amp09, #tuttle, etc.) demonstrates that the creation of a bespoke network for one off events invariably frustrates and stretches the skills of even the most committed sysadmin. By having the IT department on our side (and it didn’t hurt to have a few alumni of the school in the band) we were able to bypass any ISP issues and corresponding teething troubles that might have turned up if we’d had to start from scratch.

Put more simply, the North Wall’s unique position as both a Community Arts Centre and a part of a larger network of facilities for a school had the result of boosting our technical resources ten-fold. The lesson from this is that if you can find an existing venue that can do what you want, use it. Eliminate potential problems through collaboration and communication and by working out what you want and looking around to see if anyone is already doing it, then ask them for help. Tap into existing resources: more often than not people are more than happy to help. That’s what they’re there for, and they will want to help you (Phil Campbell and his incredible Rezpondr related work at the gig are another great example of this).

The North Wall didn’t necessarily understand what we were doing to start with but they were nonetheless excited about it. That’s key: getting other people excited is what generates goodwill, asking them to help eliminates problems form the start and doing all of this together results in some form of success, without you having done anything but start a conversation.

They saw the big picture

They were enthusiastic about Ben’s Big Gig without being in any way irritated that a one off performance was consuming time and resources. In the conversations we started with the North Wall we were both excited about the possibilities for a whizzy, gadget-linked, internet-enabled gig 2.0. This enthusiasm translated very quickly into their support and assistance. Because we believed what we were doing was going to work, no matter how crazy it seemed to begin with, those around us were in turn inspired by our enthusiasm to do what they could to make it happen. Although this may sound a little like a business self-help book, the reality of your success really is directly connected to your belief that you can succeed. If you don’t believe in it then it’s likely that the venue won’t either. Aim high, talk to people, ask for help and get enthused.

On the night, this belief, alongside the fact that it also translated directly into the crowd that turned up to see the gig, meant that when we asked the venue to do things they normally wouldn’t (keeping the bar open, having a live band play in the bar during the interval, leaving the artwork from the previous show on the walls to add to the ambience) they were prepared to take the gamble.

So, to recap:

Use what’s already there. Start conversations. Be enthusiastic. People will help you. You will succeed.