Another bit of Ethnomusicology

It was a while ago, but back in October I went to a Taiko concert. Now since this was performed by community groups, it definitely wasn't the pinnacle of Taiko, but some of the performances were definitely impressive and some of the songs pretty challenging. That said, you could also tell me not to discount the concert just because it was amateurs performing - it's a look into the musical hobbies of people in Japan.

To get some foreign words out of the way, Taiko refers to music played in a drum ensemble of often 10-20 people. Drums can range from as small as a piccolo snare drum to the size of a Smart car. And the word Taiko can probably be used to label one of these drums, though there's probably specific terminology that I don't know about yet used to name each and every size drum.

What I really walked away from the concert with is the realization that significantly more than most music I've seen performed, Taiko is as much a visual spectacle as it is a musical one. Take for example how people who play the largest drums often take as long as two beats to wind up for a single strike. I liked how that gesture communicated a sense of power. Another visual spectacle that several groups used was the playing of a single drum by three people. In one situation, one person would play a pattern for a measure or two before moving to the side to let another person take his place and play the same pattern. In this fashion they would rotate between the three of them and after doing this for a while, increase the frequency at which they changed who actually played the drum.



Although this image is generally a bit blurry, you can still see how much the performers wind-up to strike some of the larger drums.

And here's a short video where you can see some of the grandeur that people portray during performances.

An Update Just for the Sake of Updating

I haven't had too many pearls of wisdom that I wanted to share with the world lately, but there is one thing I definitely want to recommend.

I was listening to an old episode of This American Life a couple of weeks ago which encouraged listeners to remix a song that was central to one of the character's stories. Unfortunately for me though, I listened to the episode too late after it originally aired to participate in the remix contest. But simply hearing about this contest reminded me about how the Dismemberment Plan did more or less the same thing. They released individual tracks of about 10 of their songs to the masses via their website and had a little contest of their own. The best remixes that they received back from fans they used to put together an album called A People's History of the Dismemberment Plan. I can't say I know much about the album: I never heard any of the tracks on the album, and I don't know who profited from sales of the album though I hope the D-Plan shared some of the money with the remixers.

Anyway I've been messing around with a few of those Dismemberment Plan tracks lately. And it really is a fun and challenging project - kind of like putting together a puzzle while being able to change the end result of that puzzle to whatever it is you want it to be. I never actually thought much about the process of remixing until I delved into these projects. As long as you have a decently powerful computer (not too hard) and sequencing software, you can do it. I'm using Logic Express 7 for Mac, but any simple sequencing software will work. There are some pretty solid and reliable free applications on the Internet - Audacity will let you have as many tracks as are necessary for remixing those D-Plan songs, but you'll be lacking a lot of effects and other controls. Or you could go for something more substantial. The latest version of Logic Express, version 8, with it's clean, simple design is a great deal at $200. Or you could just go the cheap way and search for a torrent.

All that aside, everyone should be an amateur producer and remix a few songs for the hell of it. Being able to undertake a project like this really is one of marvels of the Internet and modern computers. I'm sure there's a lot more out there besides Dismemberment Plan songs to remix, so get going.

Can Never Say No to a Music Festival

Two weekends ago I made my way down to Kiryu Music Fronts (Japanese site, sorry), the annual music festival in my town, where local performers get to fill all the towns clubs at the same time, and I get to go to any of those clubs for the low price of ¥1000 ($8.75). It's kind of like SXSW if it were held in a small Japanese city and lacked all the overwhelming hype and crowds of Austin in March. In actuality though, the clubs this year were pretty empty compared to last. First of all, the festival last year was a whole weekend long, from Friday night to Sunday night; this year was only a Sunday night. Also the whatever crowd made it out to the festival were more than likely spread thinner than last year after the organizers expanded the number of participating clubs from four to seven.

The event itself aside, watching these Japanese bands in succession hammered home a point about Japanese culture that I have noticed in numerous other situations. Japan really is an incredibly paternalistic society. The dominance of males in music in the U.S. is apparent by how few women there are in bands. Or if there are women in bands, they're only singing and never touch an instrument. Even considering these facts, Japan keeps its women musicians at still farther flung fringes of musical society.

The group I liked the most, Epopsan, had four members: one guitarist (male), one singer/dancer (female), one keyboardist/producer/singer named Ogiwara (male), and one keyboardist/singer (female) who by the way was visibly pregnant. First of all, their music was electronic pop: they used a lot of melodies and thick, clean textures, but wouldn't shy away from letting a beat or loop run on its own for half a minute. Most of the music was prepared ahead of time and it seemed that it was played from and controlled by a production unit. So naturally, the person who came across as having the most power was Ogiwara, who controlled the prepared loops. In terms of traditional musicianship, the guitarist (who stood in a back corner of the stage while the two women flanked their Ogiwara in a line of three across the front of the stage) commanded the most respect. The pregnant keyboardist seemed to only play token hooks and some atmospheric parts, so she came across as number three in the band member hierarchy. And the last woman who danced and sung came in at number four.

The vocals didn't figure into the equation very significantly. However, that's where it starts to get interesting. Not only were all three of the singers underwhelming, but the women sung with thin, girly, and adolescent voices. So that's what clinched their bottom spots in ranking the visible importance of each band member. Their use of thin and weak voices is consistent with how Japanese women speak when in public, especially of those who work in service industries. Besides reinforcing their overall subservient role in society, this shrill voice is simply irritating.

But even though the girls of Epopsan used thin, weak voices, at least they sang in tune. The group that played before them - I don't remember the name, and I won't ever regret forgetting - had a pair of women in their 20s fronting a rhythm section of men. They not only used adolescent voices, but they couldn't stay in tune. There were in fact times when I cringed at notes that were absurdly flat.

Although some people worry about the role that women play in popular music in the U.S., only singing and having no role in the rest of the band's work of playing instruments, recording, and lugging around instruments, the situation in Japan is much worse considering that singing, the one thing they are expected to do, they are expected to do in a way that strips them of the power they're given when they stand at the front of the stage. Though I must say I do respect the keyboardist for performing and even dancing a little while pregnant.

Here are some videos of Epopsan.

Any literate person these days is sick of reading how we live in the iPod age or an iPod society or any of the other variations on the word iPod used as a sociological adjective. So forgive me for starting by stating just that. But the real truth of the matter is I'm not all that happy with some of the side-effects of how we listen to music now that everyone has an iPod. For one, there's just too much choice. And with all that music I had available on my iPod, I never really would listen to anything on repeat. I'd finish one album and then move on to the next, probably out of an obligation to hear as much of the music in my collection as I could. One of the reasons I use an old iPod shuffle when I go out is so I'm not overwhelmed by choice and can focus on a few records or songs for a week or two before moving on to something different.

Not only has this been a way to force myself to listen to all that music I download before I have a chance to forget about it, but it's brought the favorite song back into style. With no pressure to listen to every song I have in my collection, I'm more inclined to repeat songs. A couple of months ago, I was into "Who Do You Love" by Ted Leo. But the new favorite song that I'm celebrating now is "Coffee & TV" by Blur. Besides being a great pop song with an equally great video, I got into the song after Natasha dragged me onto an empty dance floor at my sister's wedding a couple of weeks ago while it was playing. Just a reminder of how context can make music an event so much more than just sound.

After I started using my iPod for a while, I started to feel nostalgic for the times when I only had two or three tapes to choose from when I wanted something to listen to. When I used to drive somewhere, the car I had only had a tape deck and AM/FM radio. So I was limited to only a few tapes that I copied from my broader music collection - at that time in CD format. Just like how in the They Might Be Giants documentary Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns, Frank Black said that for a while in his car, he only had one tape that he was practically forced to listen to every time he drove somewhere. And that tape just happened to be They Might Be Giants' first record. But being constantly worried about my own authenticity, I'm now worried how artificial it is to keep using the Shuffle when I could afford and genuinely crave an iPod Touch.

Figuring Out How to Actually Sell Music

It was only since I started downloading music without paying that I realized I'm not willing to pay the same high price for every album. It's been an admittedly weak way to justify not paying for music, but the conclusion nonetheless is true. I download more music than I could have ever bought, mainly because I'm not a huge fan of everything I download, and there are numerous records I download that I would never pay more than $10 for. I also use downloading as a way to sample music more thoroughly and at my own convenience than if I were to stream a song or two. On the whole, downloading music without paying retail prices has allowed me and I'm sure countless others to be bigger and more dedicated music fans.

So when I learned that Amazon was investing in Amie Street, a music website that sells music at a dynamic price that changes based on measured demand, I knew that at least someone in the music industry was doing something right. Not to get ahead of ourselves, Amazon hasn't even started selling music online yet, even though it has made its intentions well-known and will probably start doing so in the next month or two. After hearing the story on KCRW's "On the Beat" podcast, I made my way over to Amie Street to get a better idea of what their system was like. At the moment, there really is a dearth of music someone can download. Only a very limited number of bands and musicians are listed so far, which will keep Amie Street from being a significant retailing presence until Amazon breathes some much needed life into it. But to give you an idea of pricing, The Barenaked Ladies, one of the few groups that a lot of people may know with more than albums available for sale on the site, have their most recent album for sale at $.98 per song. If you scroll down on the Barenaked Ladies Amie Street page, you'll see some other, cheaper CDs like their Christmas/holiday album, most of whose songs you can buy for only $.18 each.

I don't know how far this dynamically priced online music retailing will go, but as a concept it is definitely something worth pursuing. Check out the "On the Beat" story here for more details on this and how Google may get into online music retailing as well. Plus "On the Beat" is a fantastic way to keep up on the goings on in the music industry.

One for the Ethnomusicologists

Every August, the city where I'm now living (Kiryu, Japan) has their annual Yagibushi Festival which has percussion and solo flute groups performing in these towers placed in the middle of the street. At some of these, people dance around the towers.

Motivated by a sample sharing site, called Freesound, that I came across a few weeks ago, I made a list of sounds and events I want to record. So I decided this year to take my minidisc recorder down to the festival and record some of the music for sharing and for posterity as well. Living in Japan made the idea especially exciting because there are absolutely a lot of interesting (and sometimes just plain stupid) sounds in the Japanese landscape.

This is my first recording out of what I hope soon enough will be many.

Kiryu Yagibushi

The `80s Couldn`t Have Been That Great

For a while now, I`ve been well aware that a lot of music since around 2000 has been in the vein of the 1980s. The Post punk revival - one that`s been huge in indie circles and has also expanded well into the mainstream - is still popular, though I think it`s taken a downturn lately. And elements of `80s new wave has made its way into mainstream singles as well. Even outside of music, it shows up, but for everyone`s sake I`m not going to talk about VH1`s fake documentaries ("I Love the `80s!") or anything else on TV. After seeing a total of five groups at the Summersonic Festival at Makuhari in Chiba, Japan last Saturday (The Pipettes, The Long Blondes, Shitdisco, Interpol, and LCD Soundsystem) whose lifeblood was reviving past styles, I just started to get bored. It was especially redundant when you consider that three of those bands are playing 80s music - LCD Soundsystem belong to the `70s, and The Pipettes belong to the `60s. I really do like a lot of the bands, but I guess I was just hoping for something a bit more stylisticly original. And maybe I asked for it by spending too much of my time at the dance stage.

Now I don`t want to completely dismiss anyone who so much as makes a reference to a past era through his music. I`m not a staunch advocate against using samples, quoting songs, or making references to the past of any sort. I think creativity is as much molding someone else`s ideas as it is cultivating your own. But when so many groups sound like throwbacks from a different era entirely, something must be wrong. Something like people are unable or unwilling to experiment with new ideas, or how people are just craving life from a different era. I can`t put my finger on it just yet, but you can believe that this problem will definitely be bugging me for a while.

Who can steal music and who can't

Isolated a bit from American pop culture by living in a small Japanese city, I only just found out about the big gossip surrounding Avril Lavigne and how she lifted the main hook from her single "Girlfriend" from the Rubinoos 1979 song "Boyfriend". And from listening to Sound Opinions to Sound Opinions this weekend, I learned that she pretty much copied the first 20 seconds of another of her songs from Peaches' "I'm the Kinda". But then later, I started to wonder what makes the kind of copying that Avril Lavigne is doing worse than the copying that great musicians do all the time.

This weekend, I got my hands on M.I.A.'s new record, "Kala", and in the first listen through noticed two songs that copied other bands' hits. First, there's "$20" where the lyrics in the chorus are exactly those from the Pixies' "Where is My Mind?". Here, the melody isn't so much as changed as it is melded into the atmosphere and style of the song. The second one took me a little longer to pinpoint, but the backing tracks for "Paper Planes" takes its chords and rhythm from part of The Clash's "Straight to Hell" with only small instrumental differences so it can all fit in with M.I.A.'s style. And these two examples are from only the first listen. There are probably a few more on "Kala" that I don`t know about.

When I first heard these songs, I thought these were clever references to and interpretations of songs I really liked. I had no reason to be angry or disappointed in the way people have been towards Avril over how she copied the Rubinoos. And I have a feeling no one else will be pissed-off at her for this.

M.I.A. plays music (let`s call it global hip-hop) that has its roots in sampling and borrowing ideas from past songs. Avril`s music can be best termed mall-punk, which has been diluted down from punk, which has it`s roots in 1960s rock. Not only that, but she plays music in a typical rock band context, reinforcing her connection to rock's earlier traditions. Unfortunately for all of us, that makes it possible for people to make rockist interpretations (creativity has to be 100% original or you shouldn't take credit for it) of songwriting.

But the most noticable difference between M.I.A. and Avril Lavigne is how upfront M.I.A is when she uses other people`s creative ideas. "Where is My Mind" and "Straight to Hell" are both well-known songs from well-known bands. Most people who listen to her music will recognize these songs referenced on "Kala". Avril on the other hand tried to take ideas stealthily from lesser-known bands. On top of that, she denies having ever heard of the Rubinoos. And the reason that she`s circling the wagons like this is because of the restrictions placed on her by her chosen genre`s roots and traditions. Again the rockist attitude in all of us says that she`s a fraud if she admits to using other musician`s creative ideas. M.I.A., safe in a hip-hop based genre, can however flaunt whatever outside creative ideas she wants.

I think it was one of my old bandmates who would mention every now and again a quote along the lines of, "Good songwriters copy songs. Great songwriters steal songs." So by that logic, Avril should be considered by all to be an outstanding musician, but somehow she's not. I don`t disagree at all with that saying, but this whole incident shows how great songwriters are great because they contribute new ideas to old songs. The only thing Avril brings to her female counterpart to the Rubinoos' "Boyfriend" is a slick pop production. On the other hand, M.I.A. significantly flattens the melody of "Where is My Mind" so that it fits with her vocal style in "$20", which puts a greater focus on rapping than Black Francis` ever did. Here M.I.A. puts the Pixies in an entirely new context and breathes greater life into an already popular song. The modern pop production that Avril used in "Girlfriend" adds only marginally at best to the creative elements already present in the Rubinoos` "Boyfriend".

The one thing the world can thank Avril Lavigne for is how she introduced a new generation, myself included, to the Rubinoos. The one thing I truly resent about this situation though is how when I introduce music to people, I don`t get paid. When Avril (and let`s not forget her songwriting team and everyone else who profits from her music - they should be villified too) does it, she gets paid obscene amounts of money.

Production is king

This has been on my mind since I heard Jon Brion interviewed on Sound Opinions last year, but a lot of musicians really do use production - or at least a more complex texture - as a replacement to more traditional songwriting techniques i.e. melody, harmony, etc. He used Zeppelin's "Kashmir" as one example, saying that if you take it out of its original recorded context, it loses so much of its meaning that its practically a different song. In contrast, he played on the piano the first few bars of Gershwin's "Someone to Watch Over Me" to show how it doesn't rely nearly as much on its timbre to define its character.

I first noticed this in 2002 when I saw Alejandro Escovedo play at my school. This first half of his set was clever, well-arranged songs that were downtempo and mostly acoustic. Then for the second half, he decided to pull out his electric guitar and distortion pedal. All the intelligent songwriting went out the window as the number of chords in each song dwindled to about 2 or 3 per. All subtlety disappeared, presumably because he could hide behind the thicker texture and higher energy level.

To me, it all became a lot more solidified when I was doing some research on timbre in pop music during my senior year of college. Reading through some of Alban Zak III's writings on changes in songwriting as a result of the broader use of the recording studio as a tool to more fully develop the timbre of a finished product. The final product then becomes reliant on careful production and is a series of ideal moments ready for listeners to hear in that exact context over and over. Until someone decides to cover the song (remixes of all kinds are immune), everyone expects to hear every melodic or rhythmic gesture in a specific timbre. Then in a song like Kashmir, the exact sound is possibly even more important than the melody or rhythm itself.

Enough theories for now. More actual examples next time.

Internet music hasn't died just yet

Today was supposed to be the day that new, stricter royalty rates for Internet radio would be enforced. The Copyright Royalty Board initially expected small Internet broadcasters to pay the same royalty rates that satellite radio broadcasters pay. Instead, a set of rules exempting smaller broadcasters from paying the new rates immediately were approved. Larger broadcasters like AOL and Yahoo are still expected to pay the new rates in full starting this week.

Wired has the full story, but here are some prominent notes:

Those organizations with numerous stations - often it's one stream per genre- have their monthly flat fee per stream capped at $50,000/year.

Small net broadcasters may be able to pay royalty fees according to the old structure until 2010, but could be slapped with fees and interest.

It's good news for now, but nothing seems certain. According to the article, the CRB can decide to enforce the stricter rules almost at anytime if it wants.

Sonic Youth makes some new friends

To be really blunt about it, any band or musician who's not looking for new ways to distribute and sell their music is a complete fool. Going with a traditional, non-independent record company, though it's been seen as the ultimate break to get a contract, has never really been all that safe. And that's especially true today as record stores and the entire mechanism of selling physical copies of music have been suffering at the hand of diminishing CD sales.

So when Thurston Moore announced that it was going to distribute a Sonic Youth singles/hits compilation through Starbucks' Hear Music label, a few purists were apparently shocked and disgusted that a band that has always represented unbridled artistry in music could partner with such a blatant symbol of commercialism. Though I haven't seen any complaints myself, Billboard seemed eager to mention that there were plenty.

It seems like such a betrayal because unlike the Universal Music Group or so many large record companies, Starbucks is incredibly visible. In most cases,when people
buy music from a major label, they don't see themselves as buying the label's product. They just know they are buying the CD in their hands and rarely if ever notice the fine print saying who recorded, distributed, and owns the rights to the music. That's a sharp contrast to when people buy something from Starbucks where it's practically impossible to ignore the company colors, logos, and name all over the shop and its products. So it appears much more capitalistic when Sonic Youth plans to distribute its music through Starbucks.

Then there's the undeniable fact that the traditional paths that musicians use to promote their music are drying up. Terrestrial radio has been homogenous and unwilling to take any risks for at least the last ten years. The record store, especially the smaller, independent ones aren't faring very well financially. And due to the higher royalty rates Internet radio stations will have to pay starting today, it may become even more difficult to hear look for and hear new music.

Starbucks' Hear Music label has been wildly successful compared to the abovementioned sectors of the music industry, becoming part of a lifestyle brand under the Starbucks name. I can't say that I am a supporter of the idea of a Starbucks lifestyle brand, but It appears to be an effective way to introduce and distribute music to people that would be interested in discovering something new. In that case, it's hard to say that it's a bad thing from a purely musical standpoint.

Hello World

So last Saturday marked the end of my isolation from the outside world. My time without home Internet service, TV, radio, etc. has come to an end and now I am awash in information pouring in from the outside world. This is like breaking the Yom Kippur or Ramadan fasts - neither of which I have ever observed, but I have been known to take part in the feasts that follow. Within the first couple of hours after being connected, I managed to download 7 or so albums just because I could. I mean, I wanted them, but it was more about being able to get whatever I wanted.

I have to admit that the time removed from information's mainstream was refreshing. Before my disconnection, I was more or less addicted to information, especially free information. Despite being out of the loop entirely when it came to music and news, it was a relief to not be driven by the need to know exactly what was new and earth-shattering. In all, it was nice while it lasted.

Now that I'm back, I've got some pent-up words that may be shared eventually. And of course I have the 10 albums I downloaded to comment on.