Sunday, July 20, 2008

While Daniel's guitar gently weeps...

Greetings to one and all! A Reader recently asked me about the idea of "chromaticism" in music, and was wondering if this relates to synesthesia, for example in statements such as: “the bass in 'Evil' is very red” or “the rhythm of 'C'mere' is kind of orange and bright.” Dear Reader also mentioned a quote from URB magazine's OLTA review:

“Daniel Kessler's precision guitar weeps become borderline synesthetic.”

- Chromaticism is a music theoretical term with a centuries-long history, but the way it’s used today is fairly straight-forward: chromatic notes are those that lie outside of the diatonic scale being used in the piece. There is also something called the chromatic scale, which contains all of the notes (12 of them) that we here in the Western world traditionally use. So, chromatic notes add “color” to the 7 note diatonic scale.

- Though a direct connection between chromatic notes and synesthesia has not been made (to my knowledge), it would make sense to me that music that ventures here-and-there outside of its standard scale (a.k.a. diatonic) would sound more affective and therefore be more prone to produce vivid visualization (thus, synesthesia, or, sensation modality transfer).

- I relate this to another quote, made by Daniel Kessler, also sent to me by Dear Reader:

I've been learning to play [the piano] for some time already. It's going pretty good, although I’ve neglected practice recently because of all the travelling. Still, it's one of the most pleasant things that are waiting for me after I get back to NY. When playing a guitar, it's all about conveying what and how I feel, my sensibility. The theoretical knowledge seems to have less significant meaning. To play a piano, you've got to have a good technique. Maybe someday I'll learn to compose with it. I'm taking my time.

- Kessler makes it clear that for him, guitar = sensibility (expression), and piano = theory (technique). It is easier for him, when playing the guitar, to go outside the boundaries of standard chords and scales and create “guitar weepings” that are “borderline synesthetic,” while the piano requires him to be conscious of standard chords and scales.

- This makes sense to me, because on a keyboard you have the chromatic scale lined up key after key, and it’s very obvious where the pattern recycles---the piano, being a later invention than the guitar, is pretty much ready-made for diatonicism (i.e., the standard chords/scales) in its clear presentation of all the available notes. However, on a guitar, the pattern repetitions aren’t as clear, as you have strings that are laid out at not entirely consistent intervals (E up a 4th to A up a 4th to D up a 4th to G up a 3rd to B up a 4th to E) as well as all the notes that are contained on each string.

- Well, I know this was a bit theory-heavy, but I hope it made sense! Thanks for the question, Dear Reader. Next up, another selection from the “favorite seconds” thread. And remember, I’m always eager to get your questions/comments!

Much love,
Meg

P.S. Anyone out there experiencing synesthesia while listening to Interpol’s music? If so, let us know!

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Sunday, July 6, 2008

Sam on the sweetness of simplicity in Ireland's Hotpress magazine

Taken from a recent interview with Ireland’s Hotpress magazine (June 08 issue):

Speaking of payback, Our Love to Admire reached number one in two countries, Ireland and Mexico, both pagan cultures with a thin film of Catholicism grafted on top. What’s the Interpol connection?
“Well, I think…it’s kinda funny, that’s a little ironic considering that from certain perspectives, other countries overly intellectualise Interpol, and here you have ‘the simple people’ saying, ‘Well fuck that, this is reaching the heart, and we just accept it, without over-analysis, we’ll just physically show you how much we love this fuckin’ record.’ That’s what I find amazing and beautiful, so when you have the rest of the EU and parts of America really trying to figure out what this thing is, Mexico and Ireland are showing us what it is. I identify with that: ‘Let’s put the words away man, let’s just show each other what this is about.’
“You don’t have to go look for the definitive in music, you can feel it and relate it to your situation. Even if you don’t know what somebody is saying, the way they’re saying it will make you feel something that has nothing to do with the content. That’s a powerful song. And nine times out of ten what the singer is conveying is something deeply personal anyway, and you can just toss meaning aside and get to the raw emotion of it. That’s something beautiful. And Ireland and Mexico will forever be Interpol’s favourite places to go because of that simple experience; that simple exchange is more powerful than anything you can put into words. We go and play our songs and the audience responds. And massively so. What more could you want?” (Peter Murphy)
- I completely relate to what Sam is saying in this interview. What we feel, how we respond when we experience music (especially music like Interpol’s) is so amazingly beyond articulation, “what more could you want?” There is something of purity in the physical that can be lost when our analytical faculties are put into use. We run the risk of forgetting what it’s all about and of missing the subtle yet strong “raw emotion” by searching for meaning.

- Like an astronomer looking at the night sky, though, I feel a strong urge to call forth what little perspicacity I have and to examine the music that inspires so much pure physical response in me. My attempt at reconciliation to myself of this seeming paradox---that is, inarticulate feelings and responses being translated through theoretical terms---is that I try at all costs to use moments in the music that have affected me deeply as my analytical ‘springboard’. In all honesty, my desire to consistently tie my analyses to my physical and emotional responses has led to my loss of some street cred with more “serious” music theorists.

- My deepest hope is that, like with astronomy, if my readers learn about the intense magnetic activity of a sunspot, that this information will not detract from or be untrue to the staggering beauty of the sun. Similarly, I hope that by interpreting a key change as a song’s abrupt shift into a different musical realm does not detract from the amazing physical and pre-intellectual response we get by simply listening to it.

- The kind of response to music that Sam is describing above is so incredibly important to me, and has literally shaped the course of my life. My desire to articulate, at least partially, this response is simply an outpouring of my passion for the power of music in my life.

Well, thought this quote from Sam was interesting, so I wanted to respond---but next up will be synesthesia and chromaticism!

Until then,
Much love from,
Meg

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Thursday, July 3, 2008

'The New': Drama and Modulation

As per my last post, a further look into “The New”:

- Something I find very dramatic about “The New” is the shift (also called a modulation) from C major to B minor about halfway through the song. At 2:22, we hear the synth repeating the notes B to C, but with F-natural being played in the bass we know we’re still in C major. At 2:56 the synth just stays on the note B, and the prevailing overall harmony is a B diminished chord (comprised of the notes B-D-F), which is the chord built on the leading tone of C major. Minute 3:14 brings us finally to B minor, as the guitar moves back and forth between the notes B and A-sharp—the latter note being the leading tone of B minor—while we also hear F-sharp in the bass, confirming B minor as the key.

- Typically, major keys are associated with happiness, minor keys are associated with sadness, and diminished chords are considered ominous. If we accept these scale-structure = emotional response associations (which is a nature vs. nurture hot-topic among some), then we could hear the lyrics of the first half of the song, i.e., the verse, pre-chorus and chorus, as corresponding to C major, in that the words progress from hopeful (“life will be better”), to somewhat fettered (“I need to defend”) as we approach the ominous B-diminished chord at 2:56.

- Once the instruments (in an almost agonizing way—Daniel’s bend a half-step down from B to A-sharp conveys pain to me) have established B minor, the voice reenters the song at 3:45. Paul’s voice is higher, almost strained-sounding, and also sounds farther away than in the first half of the song. He’s shifted from his “mind” to the more physical, and the minor key suggests that the seed of doubt and sadness planted in the lyrics sung before the shift from C major to B minor is flowering here.

- Well, not as in-depth as I would like to go—that’s what my future Interpol book is for, right??—but enough for now. Next up, a look at chromaticism and synesthesia in relation to Interpol’s music.


Until then,
Much love from,
Meg


“The New” (lyrics from interpolnyc.com):

I wish I could live free
I hope it’s not beyond me
Settling down it takes time
One day we’ll live together
And life will be better
I have it here yeah in my mind
Baby, you know someday you’ll slow

Baby, my heart’s been breaking

I gave a lot to you
I take a lot from you too
You slave a lot from me
Guess you could say
I gave you my edge

I can’t pretend
I need to defend
Some part of me from you
I know I’ve spent some time a-lying
I can’t pretend
I need to defend
Some part of me from you
I know I’ve spent some time a-lying

You’re looking alright tonight
I think we should go
You’re looking alright tonight
I think we should go


“The New”:
0:00 guitar scrapes, 0:06 bass intro
0:40 verse (“I wish…”)
1:14 pre-chorus (“I gave a lot…”)
1:48 chorus (“I can’t pretend…”)
2:22 interlude
2:56 transition
3:14 guitar solo
3:45 secondary chorus (“You’re looking…”)
4:03 bass/guitar solo
4:20 coda
4:53 bass/guitar solo
5:11 more coda
5:43 outro

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