Oct 232010
 

I have a new favorite author and blogger, Jeff Jarvis. My first introduction to Jarvis was watching him as an analyst on one of my favorite “new tv” shows, This Week in Google, on the TWiT network. A couple of weekends ago, I drove from East Lansing, MI to Kansas City, MO and back for a friend’s wedding. On the way back, I listened to the audiobook of Jarvis’s What Would Google Do?. (Get it.You’ll thank me later.) It is instantly clear when reading either his book or his blog, BuzzMachine, that Jarvis “gets” the internet and new media as much as anyone. His book discusses Google’s philosophies about business, customers, publicness, creativity, and community, and how they all might be applied to other institutions.

Jarvis does a really excellent job of distilling some principles of Googliness (one of the many fun, Google-related words he invents) in a way that makes them meaningful while being general enough to apply to a lot of different circumstances. Here are some of my favorites:

  • “Give the people control, and we will use it.”
  • “The link changes everything…Do what you do best and link to the rest.”
  • “If you’re not searchable, you wont be found…Your customers are your ad agency.”
  • The mass market has been (or is being) replaced by the mass of niches.
  • “Atoms are a drag.”

…and, perhaps his most radical proclamation…

  • “Free is a business model.”

My favorite sections of the book, however, are after Jarvis has explained the basic tenets of Googliness. He goes through several hypothetical Googly institutions. Near then end of these is “Google U,” a hypothetical university. Appropriately, Jarvis has made this chapter available as a blog post on his website. He wonders why, in this world of seemingly infinite communications technology, why do students have to be limited to taking classes at a single university? Why can’t they take classes a la carte from programs around the country?


I’m not sure I think this is practical. How do you control the curriculum in such an institution? How do the institutions control their enrollment numbers and standards? I don’t have answers to these questions. However, one thing I do like about the idea is that a degree-holder (would they even have degrees?) would have to be evaluated on something other than the name-brand familiarity of the institutions they attended.

One of my favorite websites seems to be working toward this idea already, and best of all it’s free! You can watch videos of lectures from many courses at top institutions at Academic Earth. However, when you look through the available lectures, you might notice something missing: the arts (now we’re back to my neck of the woods). There are a handful of offerings in creative writing and a course in Roman architecture, but there are no classes in music (not even theory or musicology), and no classes in artistic “practice.” Courses that are so basic to art programs(life drawing or color theory) and music programs (counterpoint and aural skills) seem to defy the model.

I’ve been wracking my brains since reading and listening to this chapter. I really want for the arts not to be an exception to  the Google U model. I really want arts education (and the arts themselves) to flourish in the Google Age. Is it the art that has to change or is it the way its taught? Or, do the arts simply defy our current communications technology? It’s probably a little of both, and of course the combination of the crusty academics and curmudgeonly classical musicians means that music programs will probably be the last parts of their respective universities to make such a change.

Is it possible to start a “free” university-style music school for the internet? I don’t know. Who wants to help me try?

I know there are a LOT of question marks in this blog post. I don’t normally like writing that way, but there are some many questions and so few certainties. If you have any thoughts on the matter, please share away in the comments!

Sep 252010
 

There are people who collect stamps. There are people who collect baseball cards. There are people who collect books, spoons, coffee mugs, ties, shoes, rocks, and sand. I bet if I can think of a thing, there’s somebody who gets really excited about collecting it in massive quantities. There are even some people who collect things that are less concrete. Some people like to collect anagrams or recipes. Personally, I like cool words (like agathokakological) and university nicknames/mascots (UC Santa Cruz Banana Slugs).

Sometimes I joke that I collect hobbies, and it’s probably my most significant collection of all. I think this comes from my passion for learning about new things. Some of them, like music, have stuck around and remain a large part of my life. Others, like the stop-motion animations I used to make with my Dad’s first digital camera, have been left behind in earlier parts of my life. When I think about picking up a new hobby to add to my collection, one of my concerns is the cost. Picking up golf would cost me hundreds of dollars or more, but picking up disc golf (as I did a few years back) only cost about ten or fifteen bucks. What, then, is the value of collecting these hobbies?

The wide variety of hobbies gets me thinking about things differently, like having your whole music library on shuffle. Listening to Bartok, then Ellington, then Berio, then the Beatles will cause you to think about Bartok, Ellington, Berio, and the Beatles differently.

Double Shadow

One of the most recent hobbies added to my collection was art. A couple of years ago, I picked up a basic acrylic paint set to occupy the hours not taken up by class. Never having taken an art class, I really didn’t know what I was getting into. Everything I was doing was an experiment. I learned what kinds of paper held the paint effectively, how paints behaved differently on canvases, and what interesting things I could mix into the paints to create different textures. It was just as exciting to me as learning about the basics of composition, instrumentation, and chord voicings; or learning about basic concepts in electronics or literature. Buried so mind-numbingly deep in studying music, I had forgotten that feeling of discovery, and painting helped me regain it.

I think my friend Matt Schoendorff might say the same thing about quantum physics. He became so enamored of the subject that he wrote as his doctoral dissertation a set of character pieces about quantum particles for wind band.

All too often, fear keeps us from trying new things. Fear of failure may be reasonable in, say, trying a Wild West-type pistols-at-dawn duel for the first time. But most of the time, trying something new isn’t as risky as that. Create something new, I think you’ll find that it’s worth it.

Most recently, I’ve tried producing a film and this.

What new things have you tried recently? How have they changed the way you think about other parts of your life?

Sep 172010
 

I don’t like a lot of old music. Mozart, Brahms, et al. don’t really whet my whistle, tickle my fancy, float my boat, or light my fire. Having said that, I’ve always had a bit of a thing for Bach. I think counterpoint is just about the coolest dang thing any musician ever thought of, and nobody’s ever done it better than Johann. That’s why I was so excited when I read about Don Freund (composer and professor at Indiana University) putting a series of lectures on YouTube called “Composition Lessons from J. S. Bach.”

They seem to be geared toward an audience that may not have a thorough technical understanding of the music already, but there is a lot of compelling information in them. Freund runs through a significant chunk of the first book of Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier, pointing out anything that he finds particularly interesting. That’s really a lot of what composers do when they listen to music, though. “Hey that sounds neat. I’ll take some of that.” Here’s a couple of the videos Freund has posted: part of the introduction, and part of the discussion of the C-sharp minor fugue. I encourage you to check out more of them on his YouTube channel.

Sep 062010
 

My parents are both scientists. They taught me to value science, curiosity, and learning. To their chagrin, I went into music. However, I never lost my love for science, and in particular, technology. Many people assume that art and artists don’t really go with technology, but there are some people who do brilliant work bringing the two together.

One new web technology I’m particularly excited about is HTML5. It’s going to change the web fundamentally, and it will do away with proprietary plugins (like Adobe’s Flash) and codecs. HTML5 is an open standard currently supported by Google’s Chrome browser and Apple’s Safari, with Firefox and Internet Explorer soon to follow. With tech development becoming an increasingly litigious affair, the only way to move forward together (with everyone in the world) is open standards and open source.

…which brings me to Arcade Fire. They recently released a new video for their song “We Used to Wait.” The video, which is called “The Wilderness Downtown,” did not debut on MTV or VH1, or even YouTube. It’s on it’s own HTML5 site. There, you enter the address of your childhood home, and the music video experience is tailored to you. As the song plays, you’ll see a music video experience that includes images from your own neighborhood pulled from Google’s vast geographical image database. This is all the brainchild of director Chris Milk, and it would not be possible without the open standard of HTML5, Google’s open API’s, and people who can think creatively about both technology and art!

Go there now, but make sure you’re using Chrome (or Safari, but seriously, use Chrome).

Sep 022010
 

Regular readers of this blog might be shocked to see it updated twice in one week, which is probably why I don’t have any regular readers (except you, Mom). Anyway, I was just perusing the new listings in the American Music Center Opportunity Update and came across a call for scores that was so unlike any of the others that it bears repeating. I do not know these people, and they did not ask me to post their call, but it makes me want to write them a piece…bad.

No Deadline
Anti-Social Music—Call for Scores

If Anti-Social Music (ASM) digs it, they’ll play it. Several times, even. ASM does two shows of premieres every year, so they’ll get to it. And then they’ll keep it in rotation for their repertory shows. They pay – not much, but not nothing either. Eligibility/Guidelines: And it’s gotta gotta gotta be a world-premiere. ASM doesn’t have a core ensemble, per se. Their writ as an organization is that if the composer wants something specific, they’ll find a way to provide it. However, that said, ASM has certain instrumentations that are markedly easier for them to provide than others; and if you write for some combination of the following, it’s easier for ASM to produce and certainly more likely to stay in rotation: sax(cl), vc(trb), vln, acc, pno, trb, fl, gtr, Sop.

Submission Materials: ASM now accepts electronic submissions only. No more packages. It’s cheaper for you, and ASM moves around too much. So please email ASM with the following: 1) The score(s) you’d like ASM to consider, as a PDF. 2) One or two recordings (and scores) of previous stuff you’ve done. Streaming links are fine. If you send your website, Bandcamp, or MySpace address, please recommend what ASM should listen to. 3) Tell us the last good book, article, porn mag, etc. you read and what was so great about it. 4) One of the following: a haiku about why you compose, a drawing or picture about why you compose, a short mix tape/CD of your influences, or a brief letter of recommendation from a nonmusical family member or friend that talks about your non-composing interests and strengths as a person. To get an idea of what ASM has done in the past, visit their website below. AMS promises to listen to and look at everything they get. ASM does not promise to be entirely sober when they do so. And they’ll let you know even if they’re not going to play it. ASM looks forward to meeting you.

Anti-Social Music (No Mailing Address Provided)
Phone: (Not Provided)
Email: antisocialmusic@gmail.com
Website: www.antisocialmusic.org

Composers should be tripping over themselves to write for people like this.

Aug 032010
 

A couple of weekends ago, I tried something new. I made a film. Well, I didn’t do it by myself, but I was part of a team of around 13 people that made a seven-minute film in only 48 hours. It was part of the 48 Hour Film Project in Detroit.

We met at 7pm on a Friday in Detroit and were assigned a genre (Sci Fi), a character (Jason/Janice Strawberry, realtor), a prop (an award), and a line of dialogue (“Take your time.”). All of these things had to be included in a final film that we turned in at 7pm the following Sunday.

It was a pretty crazy 48 hours. I was the producer, and my great friend and frequent creative collaborator Sam Merciers was the director. I would guess that we each got about 7 hours of sleep over the whole weekend, but it was completely worth it. I had more fun than just about anything else I’ve done all summer long. I experienced some of the same satisfaction I experience as a performer when a lot of hard work and preparation comes to fruition. There was also the exhilaration of improvisation from being asked spontaneously create something that is at once artistic and appropriate and technically sound.

In the end, I am extremely proud of what we created, especially considering we had never made a film before on any schedule. We got to see it on the big screen (or at least a big screen) at the Main Art Theater in Royal Oak, MI along with an audience of around 500 people. The experience reminded me forcibly of the feeling I get at the premiere of a new piece I’ve written. I hope it goes well, but it might completely bomb, and worst of all, it’s completely out of my control at that point.

For your consideration: Download.

Tonight, we’re going back down to Detroit for the awards presentation. I’ll be sure to post back here with the results.

Here are a few pictures of us during the production:

If we deploy enough gear, we almost look like we know what we're doing. We didn't really have a compelling plot reason for shooting at SCENE, but Tim Lane was kind enough to give us permission and the place and the art just looks so dang cool, we couldn't pass it up.

Emiliano and Matt (left) are composing and recording the score. Ben (top right) is editing the audio recorded on set. Corrina (bottom right) is working on a logo graphic for the credits.

Mar 152010
 

It is right that the historian should indicate the summits of achievement in art (the poetry, architecture, and sculpture of ancient Greece, sixteenth- and eighteenth-century music, Renaissance painting, etc.); but in a sense this is of little use to us. The claims of life are stronger than the sublimest art; and even were we to agree that we had achieved the best and most beautiful it is possible to achieve, we should be impelled in the end, thirsting as we do more for life and experience than for perfection, to cry out: ‘Give us something else; give us something new; for Heaven’s sake give us something bad, so long as we feel we are alive and active and not just passive admirers of tradition!’

-Carl Nielsen

Mar 042010
 

Sam and I made it in to Athens, Georgia on late Tuesday night. Wednesday, we got up early and headed over to the University of Georgia Hodgson School of Music. First things first: the school itself is beautiful. The campus as a whole is really nice, but the music buildings are amazing. They have at least four really great performance halls. MSU has zero halls that aren’t embarrassingly terrible.

We checked in. Right away, we were reminded of our little scheme by my name badge: “Folio Publishing: David MacDonald.” Game on.

In the morning, we heard some great performances and some awful performances. Sam heard two guys play that he really wanted to have play his sax and electronics piece, simony. Later in the afternoon was Sam’s piece, trying it at home, played by the Iridium Quartet. Phillip and Nate got in just in time to hear the performance. At the end of the day, we were all pretty exhausted (especially Phillip and Nate, who had been in transit for around 18 hours).

Today, we got to set up our Folio Publishing Cooperative booth. Several people stopped by and looked at our stuff. A lot of people listened to our recordings (some people listened to the same piece more than once!), and a few told us they would be back tomorrow to buy things. Tomorrow we’re going to take credit cards. Yeah, we’re that cool. Unfortunately, though, the bottom line is this: We sold two things today. Two of Joe Lulloff’s CDs. If things continue this way, I’m going to feel really stupid. I was the one who convinced all of my friends to shell out some cash for the table and put together loads of scores for this silly thing. But again, it’s important to contextualize the definition of success. Sometimes that takes a bit of perspective and reflection. We had plenty working against our success as well. Not many people had heard of the composers at our table, no one had heard of our company, and as I told the composers involved, I would be a bit hesistant to give money or my credit card number at a seemingly fly-by-night conference vendor. Folio Publishing Cooperative will evolve the same way trying it at home will probably evolve. And when we get to where we’re going, we’ll have a different definition of success.

On a brighter note, H2 played my piece, Falling up the down escalator. They played it around 10 clicks faster than I’ve ever heard them play it before, but it sounded great. Even better: the hall was packed. Several people came by the table afterward to check out the score and tell me how much they enjoyed the piece. We’ll see if that turns into any sales in the next couple of days.

Feb 252010
 

I had a student today ask this question: “What do you do when you’re in the middle of working on a piece, and you get an idea about another cool piece?”

It’s a tough question, and it’s one that I know a lot of composers deal with, though not one we often talk about. I’m a one-thing-at-a-time kind of person. That’s bad, because it means if I get side-tracked by one of these “next projects,” I put off my main project and it loses momentum. There are some people that can successfully work on two pieces at once, but I’m not among them, and I think most of the composers I know would say the same thing. This can cause some problems. One of the most frustrating is that working on large-scale projects means that you can’t take on any new projects for a long time. Right now, I’m working on my dissertation. By the time I finish it, I’ll have been working on it for at least a year and a half. The worst part is when somebody says, “Hey, we should work on a piece. I want you to write something for me.” This doesn’t happen very often, and when it does and I can’t act, it’s pretty maddening. I have to tell them to come back in a year and ask me again.

The good thing about the one-piece-at-a-time policy is the moment I get the new idea. Nothing gets me more excited about finishing the piece I’m working on than the allure of diving into a new one. (Admittedly, the diving in can be painful, but in a hurts-so-good kind of way.) I know some composers that keep a written queue of pieces they want to write. I keep a mental list. Sometimes I bump things up and down the queue. I’ve been meaning to work on a one-act chamber opera for the better part of 5 years. But when things start to stagnate, it always helps me to start thinking of that next big thing.