A Twitter acquaintance wrote me this series of DMs:
I am so glad he had that reaction. I haven’t been pushing my music theory songs too hard because I wasn’t sure about their value to anyone other than me. I did use some of them in my New School music theory class last semester, but I was hesitant about using the whole thing. This message was a helpful indication that I’m onto something and should lean into it.
One of my older kid’s hipster friends introduced him to “The Man Who Sold The World” and he is super into it at the moment. I have been a Bowie fan since forever, but this song was slow to win me over.
I have learned to love the song, but I struggle to connect to the weirdly airless original recording. I originally connected more to the Nirvana cover, which I talk about below.
I’m writing about this song at the request of my friend Benjie de la Fuente, but also because my kids like it. (They have liked David Bowie since seeing Labyrinth, but now they’re getting interested in his non-Labyrinth music too.) It makes sense that this tune would seize my son’s imagination, because he likes classical piano, and this is the most classical-sounding Bowie song.
“Life On Mars?” is one of the coolest songs of all time, so it is very surprising that it shares an origin story with “My Way”, arguably the most uncool song of all time.
In 2013, Wayne Shorter said, “The word ‘jazz’ to me only means ‘I dare you.’” I love Wayne’s playing and writing without always understanding it. I got exposed to both via Miles Davis, who put Wayne’s tunes at the center of his late 1960s albums. Here’s “Orbits” from Miles Smiles.
And here’s an orchestral arrangement of the same tune recorded 36 years later on Wayne’s album Alegría. (It includes Brad Mehldau on piano.) Check out Wayne’s multiphonics at 1:55!
The Beatles were not always a rock band, especially not when it came to the Paul songs. This is a frequently cited example of baroque pop, a cousin of “Eleanor Rigby” and “She’s Leaving Home.”
Paul is playing piano and clavichord, Ringo plays drums and maracas, and the delightfully-named Alan Civil plays the French horn. (He also played in the orchestra on “A Day In The Life.”) John and George were not involved.
All microphones are analog. They convert pressure waves in the air into electricity. Pressure waves in the air vibrate a little piece of metal, and that generates a fluctuating electrical current. Different kinds of mics have different specific ways of doing this. In dynamic mics, the air vibrates a magnet. This magnet is wrapped in wire, and its motion produces a current in the wire. In condenser mics, the air vibrates a metal plate that’s part of a capacitor with an electrical current already flowing through it. As the plate moves, it blocks or admits more of the current, making the current fluctuate. There are other kinds of mics with other physical setups, but they all do the same thing: they send out an electrical current whose fluctuations match (are an analog for) the fluctuations of air pressure.
Oliver Kautny, a professor of music education at the University of Cologne, Germany, and founder of the Cologne Hip Hop Institute, invited me to contribute a chapter to a book that the Institute is planning to publish, an edited volume on hip-hop and music education as an open access book by Transcript Publishing. I’m co-writing my chapter with Toni Blackman, a central figure in my dissertation. Our working title is Building Hip-Hop Educators. Here’s the abstract.
In this post, I collect standards of the ones that appear in movie musicals, and I pair each one with a well-known jazz interpretation. (Note that most of these songs had appeared in stage musicals many years before the films were made.) Enjoy! Continue reading “Where do jazz standards come from?”
My kids are totally obsessed with the Beatles right now, much to my ongoing delight, so I’m learning how to play more of their songs. Brad Mehldau motivated me to take a look at “She’s Leaving Home”, which I learned about a thousand years ago on guitar and haven’t thought about in a while. It’s a good one! Apparently, when Paul McCartney was ready to record the song, George Martin was busy. Paul was eager to get moving on it, so he asked a guy named Mike Leander to do the harp and string arrangement. Presumably Leander transcribed Paul’s piano part and embellished from there. Harpist Sheila Bromberg was the first woman to play on a Beatles record.
The production is pretty tame by Sgt Pepper’s standards, but there are still some intriguing choices. There’s a single-tap tape echo on the harp, which is most plainly audible on the intro. Paul and John double-track their voices on the choruses, too. Those touches are just enough to keep the track in the world of psychedelia, rather than the world of fake classical like “Eleanor Rigby.” Hear the harp without the tape echo on this early take: