The beauty of failure

I once read an article written by John Mayer in Rolling Stone where he was asked to write about Jimi Hendrix in 'The Immortals' issue (one of the best issues ever, FYI). And not surprisingly, he said something that is not only poignant in regards to Hendrix's influence on the music industry, but also in regards to just music and artists in general.

Mayer said; "Who I am as a guitarist is defined by my failure to become Jimi Hendrix."

And so as I go through some old albums, ones that I listened to as a 'kid', really, I realize that I have done the same thing. Who I am as a vocalist is defined by my failure to become Wanye Morris or Justin Timberlake. Who I am as a musician is largely defined by my almost obsessive need to learn the harmony lines in each and every *NSync song. It was a compulsion. I'd listen to the albums, certain songs, even, for hours on end, headphones over my ears, laying on my bedroom floor at 15 years old, trying to emulate Justin's phrasing and runs and musicality.

It's an interesting thing, too, because I listen to these songs now, headphones over my ears as I sit in my office, and I can still sing those runs. I can still pick Joey's voice out of the five part harmony and sing his line if I want to, then switch over to JC's part the next line. It's a little crazy, because at 25, I have both no business listening to *NSync (but I will not stop, because I maintain that they are brilliant), and I have no business remembering such musical intricacies from an album released in 1998. But my best friend and I loved them, and we were/are both singers. At 15 and 17 respectively, we decided that I sounded more like Justin and she sounded more like JC, so we'd sing those songs, each guys' parts claimed as our own, until we got them perfect.

And it was a perfect learning experience that I didn't even realize I was part of. As part of the audition process to get into the vocal jazz program I was eventually accepted to, I was required to prepare a 'lift'. What that means is that you listen to a song by another artist, and you emulate their intonation, phrasing, and style as best you can. Well, not to sound conceited, but I aced it. I'd been doing it for years, since I bought Boyz II Men's II album on cassette (the first album I ever bought) and decided that I wanted to be able to sing runs like they could. The first vocal competition I placed first in, I sang Open Arms. I essentially copied Mariah's version.

I can still transform my voice to copy whoever I'm listening to, which freaks out my brother (a semi-professional musician who has toured the globe with an award-winning artist). He laughs when he hears me singing like Justin, that bit of a smokey, sultry rasp. He thinks it's hilarious that the next second, I can sing with all the swing of Ella. I can bust out a Miranda Lambert song and have a Texan accent singing Famous in a Small Town. Granted, this is usually after a few drinks, when everything is a little funnier. And it's even weirder, because when I sing my own songs, that's when my true voice comes out. Sometimes I hear myself on recordings of my own songs and it startles me a little, because I spend so much time singing like other people, that it's strange to hear myself.

There is no doubt that I'm an auditory learner. I'm not sure if that's innate or learned, or maybe a little bit of both.

And in one of those evenings, after quite a bit of Mount Guay rum, my brother and I, both of us saxophone players, got to talking about *NSync and how good this song is, and we decided it'd be awesome to work out a 5-part saxophone arrangement (one baritone, one tenor, two alto, and one soprano).

We never did it. I still want to. I may just have to talk to him about that...

It's Hard to Understand

Music is one of the only things that, if you really think about it, is so intensely complex, it'll hurt your head to comprehend it. (Architecture is probably the only other thing that I feel this way about, and maybe even more so, because I at least understand music to a degree. Architecture just amazes me.)

Music is just so multi-faceted, so many things on so many levels, and there is absolutely no one in the world who can possibly understand it all. No one. I am convinced of that. Lyrics, notes, percussion, chords, 3 or 4 or 10 or 20 or 60 or 100 piece bands. Think about that, the complexity of 100 people on so many different instruments, playing different lines, on different cues, sometimes in different time signatures. And one writer writing it. Think of a orchestral piece, strings, brass, woodwinds and percussion, instruments in different keys and pitches, and one mind puts them all together into something so incredible. Talk about a beautiful mind.

I just got goosebumps thinking about it.

I was listening to John Coltrane today, and Coltrane is one of those musicians I cannot ever, ever, ever listen to on shuffle, and here's why: Coltrane is an artist whose progression of talent you can hear, starting from his earliest recordings, moving on to his latest. You can quite literally hear him getting better. When I was younger and all my friends (every last one of them) was in the jazz program at the college we went to, we had an indepth discussion about this. The transformation of early Coltrane to late Coltrane is masterful, and apparently there are spades of unreleased material that we may or may not ever get to hear.

And sure, every artist progresses, but it doesn't seem to happen the same way anymore. Everything is so polished, and the artists worth listening to (there are so, so many who aren't) have, to a degree, started to master their craft before they even cut their first record. And a lot of those won't release more than two albums.

So it makes you wonder what it's like to be in someone else's mind, someone else who obviously has a better handle on it than you do. I don't mean, like, Bach or Beethoven. I mean someone like John Mayer (typical of me, I know). But when you hear a John Mayer song, you know you're hearing a John Mayer song. Not because he's got a formula or there's anything predictable about it, but because he's got a feel. Layering, and yes, a distinctive guitar tone. I can't even comprehend what it's like to be in his head when he's writing. I know what happens in my own, but I am not the musician or writer he is.

Or someone like Alicia Keys, who is such a brilliant artist. In my opinion (one that a lot of people might scoff at), she resurrected R&B in the early 2000's; bridged the gap between more adult contemporary artists and the 'whisper singers' like Ashanti who did absolutely nothing for the genre. Alicia writes her own songs, and does it brilliantly. I've seen clips of her in the studio, and when she's in the zone, it's almost like you're afraid to look at her, like you're witnessing something too personal, but you can't help it. She's intense and focused, like whatever idea is in her head is going to torture her until she gets it perfectly on paper and on record.

I realize I don't really know that feeling. Sure, I am a bit of a perfectionist, and I'm creative, and I'll wake up at three in the morning and write for hours, because if I don't write this, right now, it's going to disappear. It'll be gone forever and I'll never get it back, and what if that was the perfect thing and I let it slip away?

I wonder if that's a neurosis every artist has.

But if it is, I'm almost certain that it's that very neurosis that fuels the progression.

Sure You Will...

It has always made me laugh when people (musicians I know) say things like the following:

"Yeah. If I don't make it as an entertainer, maybe I'll just be a session musician or something."

Okay. Sure. Here's the thing.... No, you won't. I have only known two people who were session musicians. One is a reigning fiddle champion, the other is an insanely gifted guitar player. (For instance, Alan Jackson's guitar tech heard this guy warming up and told him that he was the best guitar player he'd ever heard...yeah. He's pretty good.)

My point is, nine times out of 10, the session musicians are more talented than the talent. Of course, there are exceptions, but it's not like anyone can just walk into any given studio and say "Hey, I'm a drummer. Got any session work?" Doesn't work that way. You have to pay your dues just like everyone else. It's a focused endeavor, I'd gather.

This is what I'm talking about. Brent Mason has played with anyone who is anyone in country music, basically. And most people have never heard of him. I have heard very few guitar players as good as this guy, and even fewer who can pick like him. Think he's got a little bit of talent? I'd say so. Also, the bass player Michael Rhodes, is one of those guys every fan of country music has seen and heard, but most probably don't know his name.

If you haven't yet seen Standing in the Shadows of Motown, watch it. These are the quintessential session players. Their stories are actually pretty hilarious, more than anything, but it gives you an idea.

So all I'm saying is that if one can't make it as a 'performer', they probably won't be making it as a session musician either.

I Broke The Rules

I put on one album today, listened to approximately 15 seconds of the first song, and had to turn it off. The guilt overwhelmed me for breaking the promise to listen to all my music. I just couldn't do it. I can't.

Bedouin Soundclash is the most unimaginative, self-indulgent (musically speaking) band. Hint to these guys: You're not Bob Marley. You're not cool and edgy. You fit a niche four years ago that was for some reason open and people took an interest. That doesn't mean you're good.

I couldn't listen to the album. It was the only CD my travel partner would listen to while we drove from Toronto to Vancouver. Yes, I had a milk crat full of CDs, and he had an iPod. But we listened to his iPod (his taste was questionable at best) and this album, and he gave it to me as a gift to commemorate the journey.

It just annoys the hell out of me.

So you'll have to forgive me for breaking the rules.

I will now go dance around my apartment to Beyoncé, who comes after BS (hahahaha. Bedouin Soundclash = BS. Fitting) in my collection.

10 Years Later, No Further Ahead

It's all a cliché, really. That saying, "I want to figure out what I want to do with my life." The crazy thing is, I started thinking about it when I was like, 12 (I wanted to be a lawyer). At 15, I started looking at colleges (I no longer wanted to be a lawyer). At 17, I went to college (I graduated high school early). I graduated college at 20, moved across the country, then got my first proper job at 21.

I took PR in school because it seemed versatile. I turned down a spot in one of the most reputable and respected vocal jazz programs in North America (they accept 14 people a year out of approximately 400 applicants) to take PR. It seemed like a rational choice at the time. I never really regretted it. Until now.

Now I'm 25, and I still have no clue what I want to do. It seems every step of the journey has just been a placeholder. I worked in a shoe store just until I got a better job. I worked at the bottom of the totem pole until I got promoted. Then I did get promoted. Twice in one year actually. Now I am as high up as I can get in this company, and I feel like my work is done here. I'm not fulfilled by work anymore.

So I started thinking about what it is that does fulfill me.

Music. That's it. Well, music and writing.

I don't want to work in PR. Every position and job posting I look at looks absolutely like the last thing I want to do. I don't want to churn out press releases for some corporation. I don't want to plan decadent events. I certainly don't want to sell advertising space. People have suggested I go back to school, but I don't think I want to do that either.

My mom keeps saying I'm at a crossroads. Feels more like a dead end.

All the things I love are 'recreational'. I want to turn my love of words and music into a career.

I'm trying to figure out how to do that.

Dream Gig

So today, while enjoying some downtime after deadlines, a friend of mine asked me a question I wasn't prepared for.

The question was this: "What 5 musicians would you most want to sing with?"

Sounds simple, right? I'm sure most people would rattle off five names and that'd be that. Not me. I had follow up questions. Would it be studio recording or live performance? What kind of venue are we talking? Can the artists be dead or alive? Any specific genre?

You get the idea. So she set the parameters as such: The artist must be alive, it would be a live performance in a small-ish venue (1,000-5,000 people). And yes, we got that specific, or it would have taken me ages and ages to compile my list of five people. The links will take you to some awesome live videos.

1: John Mayer. This one wouldn't matter what the details were. Dead, alive, performance or studio. I'd just love to pretty much do anything with him. Write a song, lay down some vocals, sit and watch in awe as he took a solo. Whatever. That said, I've got a wicked harmony part worked out for Slow Dancing in a Burning Room. Just sayin'.

2: Vince Gill. One of my all time fave singers. Totally brilliant musician who, though he's been nominated for and won almost every award out there, is so underrated it's not even funny. His was the second concert I ever went to. He was brilliant. I was 12 years old, and I fell in love with his music even more. That love affair hasn't ended.

3: Marc Broussard. Marc and I could get it funky, and I don't mean that in any dirty way (the guy's married and has three kids!). His music just makes you smile. He could pick any song and tell me to sing the BGs and I'd be game. Hell, he could tell me to sing on every song and I'd be game. Just love this soul/R&B/funk vibe he's got himself into. It's his sound; no one else out there has it.

4: Patty Griffin. You know how I feel about her. I can hear myself singing Trapeze or Burgundy Shoes with her. Or Heavenly Day, the song that can turn my mood around no matter what.

5: This is a tie, because I simply cannot choose between these two men. Brian McKnight and D'Angelo. Love them both immensely. It's ridiculous, really. Brian is a master. D'Lo can sing like nobody's business. Don't know what else to say. These two are each geniuses in their own right. With Brian, I'd want to sing 6, 8, 12. With D'Lo, probably Send It On or Untitled (How Does it Feel) or maybe Brown Sugar.

So there you have it. My list of five. Sort of. I know it's a cop out to have a tie, but...well, it's my list, and I say it's allowed.

The Start of the B's

Like I said, the B's section in my collection is pretty huge, so I'm going to give some thoughts as I have them, so as not to forget.

My morning consisted of Lloyd Banks (yes. I know) and Barenaked Ladies. This afternoon is Dave Barnes, The Beatles, Bedouin Soundclash (I think I will cringe...not into them AT ALL anymore) and maybe a little Beyoncé if I can get to it.

Here's the thing: Lloyd Banks' The Hunger for More is one of those albums I bought...I don't know why. But I liked it, legitimately liked it, for a long time. Listening today, I was a little disgusted by my own lack of taste. The rappers I like are Common, Kanye, Jay-Z, Lupe Fiasco, Mos Def, etc., and so on. Lloyd Banks raps about pretty much everything I hate about rap. But I listened to the whole thing, because I couldn't break that promise to myself to listen to every song on every album (slightly neurotic, I know). There are a few good tracks, but there's a good chance that album is not coming off the shelf again any time soon.

Now. Barenaked Ladies. Gordon came out in 1992. Which would make me 8 at the time of its release. This is an album that is a Canadian classic. I'm sure we all remember hearing If I Had $1,000,000 on the radio and laughing at how ridiculous it was. But that album is a bit of a stroke of genius, really. Highlights are Enid, What a Good Boy (that song is absurdly good), and Blame it on Me. The harmonies, the musicality, the jazz sensibilities...It's all just really good.

Now I'm onto Dave Barnes. I listen to a little Dave Barnes (1 or 2 songs) almost every day. He always seems to come on myTunes (almost always on shuffle), and I very rarely ever skip over him. But here's what I've discovered: Listening to the album in its entirety, from start to finish, is far, far more fulfilling. I can appreciate the songs better this way somehow. This pretty much goes for every artist/album.

Albums are created meticulously. They don't just throw the songs on there in any order and hit 'burn' and that's the record. There's a serious thought process that goes into it. Which songs go where. One thing I've noticed over the years is that very, very often, track #5 on any given record will be a slower song or a serious ballad. This makes sense. After five up-tempo or mid-tempo songs, you can slow it down without losing your listener.

Anyway, I guess what I'm getting at is that in the day and age where you can download one song off an album, or shuffle up your entire collection, we're losing a little of the artistry that goes into making a record.

It's nice to enjoy that again.