tag:hugeshark.org,2005:/blogs/how-i-create-music-with-other-musicians-onlineFin Tales2023-04-24T12:07:45-07:00Huge Sharkfalsetag:hugeshark.org,2005:Post/71960212023-04-24T12:07:45-07:002024-01-24T21:33:56-08:00How I write a song (part two)<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/702759/07997daabfdb5ae3d4e9c45bd611af134ed3db3d/original/website-how-i-write-a-song-part-two.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p>I’ve got a melody, chords and lyrics for several verses and a chorus, and I am happy with them!<br>But now I need a bridge.<br>And a good edit.</p><p>The bridge is always actual work. It doesn’t come in any flash of inspiration. I have to think it out. A bridge (in my view) must do a couple things: musically, it should be a real shift from the rest of the song. That might mean a key modulation, a change in intensity, or a change from major to minor or vice versa.</p><p>Lyrically, a bridge is the turn in the story; it’s the “<i>but…</i>” or the “<i>and then.</i>” It’s the subconscious dipping in to say “this is how it really is.” An example of that is “Lose Your Love”, where the verse asserts resilience in the face of unrequited love, but the bridge expresses longing over distance. Looking at my songs, it’s not uncommon for my verses and chorus to be saying “<u>I’m fine</u>” while the bridge says “<u>I am totally not fine, really</u>.”</p><p>Once the bridge is written and I play the song over a few times, I need to start looking for clichés. A cliché can be musical — a chord progression that’s just a little over-familiar (did I accidentally copy another song?) or too expected. Sometimes I can change the chords without changing the melody; sometimes the melody, too, needs to be altered. Sometimes I was singing a phrase in one octave and I need to sing it lower or higher for contrast or interest.</p><p>Of course, some clichés can be found in the lyrics. In addition to overused phrases, I look for weak language that doesn’t punch, lousy rhymes that were expedient in the moment, and near-rhymes that just aren’t satisfying to the ear.</p><p>Once those are addressed, I’m done with the songwriting for now, and ready to make a first pass at arranging.</p><p>(But every once in a while, bits of a song change when I’m actually recording — sometimes even years later! I’ve been known to remove a verse, totally alter a bridge and even change a melody a decade or two after the fact, all in the name of trying to hit home, to better communicate the emotions inside my own head to the head of the listener.) 🎵</p>Huge Sharktag:hugeshark.org,2005:Post/71959362023-04-23T00:00:00-07:002023-04-24T12:08:04-07:00How I write a song (part one)<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/702759/1ceb951990e09336f9789faec05f1e07dc6daa02/original/website-how-i-write-a-song-part-one-blog.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" alt="How I write a song (part one)" />It starts with an idea.</p><p>A very <i><span>small </span></i>one.</p><p>A smaller idea than you might think.</p><p><u>Optional</u>: something I want to write a song about. (Because sometimes I figure out what the song is about when it is well underway.)</p><p><u>Not optional</u>: A fragment of lyric and a melody to go with. They generally pop into my head together and they provide the foundation for the rest of the song. For (real) example:</p><p><i>"Look at me now,</i><br><i>when I can’t find the trail to your heart."</i> ['<a class="no-pjax" href="https://hugeshark.bandcamp.com/track/pirates" target="_blank" data-link-type="url">Pirates</a>']</p><p><i>“Red flares on the highway; </i><br><i>whatever they were for is gone.</i>” ['<a class="no-pjax" href="https://hugeshark.bandcamp.com/track/red-flares-2" data-link-type="url">Red Flares</a>']</p><p><i>“Heard you screaming in that tenor —</i><br><i>the boy with the baritone heart”</i> ['<a class="no-pjax" href="https://hugeshark.bandcamp.com/track/lose-your-love-2" data-link-type="url">Lose Your Love</a>']</p><p>That small seed of inspiration is really all I have when I start.</p><p>I used to write songs while driving my car. I would hammer a beat out on the steering wheel and sing loudly until I was happy with a verse, singing it over and over to try to keep it in my memory. Then I started carrying a tape recorder around (this was a long time ago!) to capture those fragments. Once I got home, I’d transfer the concept over to the piano and work out the chords — which by that time I was generally hearing in my head.</p><p>These days I often get the flash of idea right before bed. I scribble down the words & some notes and hope I remember the rhythm and feel the next day. In the morning I go right to the piano.</p><p>I figure out the notes I’ve been singing, determine the key, try out some chords, and fit them to the line I have. Then I start by repeating the melody line and try out other lyrics against it. I’m quick at rhyming; this is fast. Now I look to move the melody somewhere else — I try different chords and come up with a few other lines of melody for what usually becomes a verse. Lyrics come out of my mouth at this point virtually subconsciously. I write them down (pencil on paper! Rarely, music paper — usually I just jot the letter of the note down). Some of them will stay; some are atrocious and will be edited later. I poke and work until I have a full verse’s worth. And then I take my scribbled notes upstairs to my study and sit down in an editor.</p><p>At this point, I know what I’m writing about — either the scratch lyrics have a theme, or I already had one. I write out another verse, and usually I pen a few lines of what may become a chorus. For some reason, almost always, I find that what I’ve written at the piano is the second or third verse (“Lose Your Love” is an exception here), and so the new verse I write is the first. I edit some of my garbage lyrics. Even if I started writing about something real in my life, a lot of poetic license enters the story at this point! I print the lyrics out neatly and carry them back downstairs. (Does going up and down the stairs help my creative process? <i>Maybe!</i>)</p><p>Back at the piano, I compose the melody and chords of the chorus, sometimes adjusting the words a little in the meantime. I try to make the song move somewhere interesting from the verse in the chorus. If my initial try doesn’t sound different enough, I will try something else until it feels strong and catchy. Then I run through the other verse(s) I’ve written to make sure they scan, and finally play through the whole song thus far.</p><p>And then I’m done?</p><p>Nope.</p><p>This is just part one!</p>Huge Sharktag:hugeshark.org,2005:Post/71913582023-04-16T12:49:11-07:002024-01-24T21:33:56-08:00How I find musical collaborators<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/702759/e5297cf09413c9c2964b60c8e308092c9908af8c/original/website-collaborators.jpg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" />When I first returned to making music after long absence, I knew few musicians. The last two guys I'd been in a band with were dead. The old clubs I'd played in were closed. My jam buddies Tony and Margo had moved home to England. I was playing a few open mic nights with my friend Joe, but he was trying to focus on his bluegrass work. I started messing with GarageBand, learning the basics of digital recording. I picked up two lovely jam partners (hi Wade and James!), but I wanted a way to reach a wider audience.</p><p>Enter Twitter. I hadn't met any musicians there yet, but I'd become Twitter friends with a few folk who had Internet radio shows, and had found new favorites in their carefully curated programs. *These folks* knew musicians. And one day, one of them said that a musician friend was looking for vocals for a track. I jumped.</p><p>The friend sent me a track and I recorded some vocals. I followed the friend, and he had musician friends, too, and I followed them. And then another friend of a friend asked for some vocals <span dir="auto">—</span> and a melody and lyrics. So I jumped again. Twitter is how I ended up meeting and collaborating with Hilliat Fields and Gary Gahan, both of whom appear on my new album, <i>Everything</i>.</p><p>As an amateur, I felt it was important not to be too precious about my contributions. It was a new experience to write to others' musical backdrops; I took it as learning experiences and practice. Sometimes there was back and forth. Sometimes the artist took what I'd done, wove it into their work, and the first time I heard it was on the finished album.</p><p>With every new musician I worked with, I met more <span dir="auto">—</span> their followers included interesting people, many of them creators. I started conversations in response to their tweets, or reactions to their music — just making conversation, getting to know folks. But when you chat with musicians, collaborations happen!</p><p>In mid-2020, at the height of the pandemic, Gary called me with an idea. He'd joined a Facebook group around music collaboration, and wanted me to join too and collaborate with him on a cover track. We hadn't yet worked together, but we had a great time creating a Cocteau Twins cover (you can find that early project in <a class="no-pjax" href="https://garygahan.bandcamp.com/album/hearsax-please-a-saxophonic-tribute-to-cocteau-twins" target="_blank" data-link-type="url">Gary's collection</a>) and we went on to create a couple dozen tracks together <span dir="auto">—</span> including Gary's great sax work on <i>Everything</i>.</p><p>The Facebook group <span dir="auto">—</span> and there are *lots* such groups, Discord servers etc for different kinds of music collaboration, many of them open to all <span dir="auto">—</span> got me working with other talented musicians, too. Each month, in response to the current challenge, folks make their skills available for others ("if anyone wants guitar on their project this month, lmk") or ask for contributions ("I could use a vocalist on this one"). I volunteered for whatever I could, and met lots of delightful people. That led me to ask Pete Nickerson, Garry Franklin, and Michael Wojtasiak to join the party on <i>Everything</i>.</p><p>I've found any environment where you can meet other people <span dir="auto">—</span> Twitter, Mastodon, Instagram, Facebook groups, blog comment parties, Discord servers, communities around other creative interests (art! knitting! photography!) <span dir="auto">—</span> is an opportunity to meet collaborators. Musicians, it turns out, are everywhere. 🎵</p>Huge Sharktag:hugeshark.org,2005:Post/71880732023-04-11T19:56:54-07:002023-04-24T12:08:40-07:00How I create music with other musicians online<div class="" dir="auto"><div class="x1iorvi4 x1pi30zi x1swvt13 x1l90r2v" data-ad-comet-preview="message" data-ad-preview="message" id="jsc_c_4w"><div class="x78zum5 xdt5ytf xz62fqu x16ldp7u"><div class="xu06os2 x1ok221b">
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<div style="text-align:start;" dir="auto"><span dir="auto">Folks often ask how one creates music with collaborators who live far and wide. I usually say “we email files back and forth,” but that’s obviously not the whole picture. When I’m the songwriter/song originator, here’s how things generally work:</span></div>
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<div style="text-align:start;" dir="auto"><span dir="auto">First, I create a song on my DAW (Digital Audio Workstation — software that helps you record and mix music). I have mostly used GarageBand (I’m learning Logic Pro!), but my collaborators use different DAWs. I usually have basic drums, keyboard and vocals. Sometimes I record and mix more of the song; other times it’s just the bones.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align:start;" dir="auto"><span dir="auto">I have the DAW export the music as a WAV file (sometimes a few separate files, one for the drums, one for the vocals etc). I transfer this file to the first collaborator I’m working with — usually using a file transfer program because the files are large. I also tell them the bpm (beats per minute) and the key the song is in. This lets them set up their own DAW so everything matches, and they can make sure to record accurately.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align:start;" dir="auto"><span dir="auto">The collaborator then imports the file as a track in their own DAW and records their part while listening to mine. Then they send their part back to me, as a WAV. I import it into my DAW and mix it into the song. Lather, rinse, repeat until I have everyone’s parts and can mix the song as a whole.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align:start;" dir="auto"><span dir="auto">Because we’re not in the same room exploring the piece together, I have to try to convey to my collaborators what I’m looking for. Sometimes I have a specific idea or even have written a part that I want them to reproduce. Other times, they come up with an arrangement on their own. We might have a little back and forth as they try things out, to see if they work for my intent.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align:start;" dir="auto"><span dir="auto">It’s slower than jamming together in a studio, but it allows me to collaborate with talented friends — thus far including Scotland, England, Canada, Ukraine, and all over the U.S.! 🎵</span></div>
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</div></div></div></div>Huge Shark