I’ve found myself doing more radio listening lately. Partly because it’s starting to be challenging to spend time digitizing LPs or even doing digital digging on Bandcamp (though I’m still doing both). But most of my listening has not been FM. Here’s what I’ve been turning to:
Sirius/XM Radio. Though the poor quality audio throws me off—I can’t stand listening to the classical channels for more than a few minutes—it’s great being able to turn on the First Wave channel and hear “Mad World” pretty much any day you want to. And a bunch of other tracks as well.
In the Groove. Another radio-originated podcast, Ken Laster’s WWUH radio show is jazz focused and has a special slant covering independent jazz artists. I’ve had a few discoveries from this show, including Cecile McLorin Savant (featured in Ken’s Newport Preview episode). The Wayne Shorter episode is pretty good too.
The Broadcasting System. My friend Tyler DJs this show on Monday afternoons under the nom de radio of “Tyler Broadcasting System.” WTJU doesn’t podcast but they do stream live and archive a few weeks worth of shows. I highly recommend the show from September 18 while it’s still available, which veers from Meredith Monk and Moondog to Pram and ELO and Pharoah Sanders.
Somehow in the past fifteen years I’ve been blogging (!), I missed writing about “Blind Willie McTell.” Ever. This despite the fact that the song made the playlist of one of the first mixtapes I ever made back in 1991. And I don’t know that I ever connected the dots on the song’s meaning, in all that time, beyond the vague sense of prophetic dread conveyed by the slowly more intense vocal and piano performance.
And I am left feeling that amid revival tents, amid the attempts to dress up the past betrayed by cheap hooch, and despite the otherwise redemptive charge of the blues, we are left with this: an arrow in the doorpost, the ghosts of slavery ships, and the promise of our life in these United States undercut by power, greed, and the inevitable corruption and decay of our descendants.
Symphony Hall, orchestra rehearsal for the Brahms Requiem.
(By which I mean, of course, my age, not the age of the work.)
I last wrote about Brahms’ Ein deutsches Requiem in 2009, at the end of a run in which we performed the work in Symphony Hall, issued an official recording, and reprised it at Tanglewood. It was a different time: James Levine was at the relative height of his powers and I was singing more regularly with the Tanglewood Festival Chorus.
We reprised the work a few years later under Christoph von Dohnányi, in a totally different performance. By that time I wasn’t blogging as regularly so I don’t have any notes from that run. I remember a few things, though: his tempi were brisk, his interpretation totally unsentimental, and his demands on the chorus’s diction were fierce.
This run, which concluded a week ago, was to have been conducted by the great Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos, with whom I was fortunate to sing a few times. But he passed away this summer, and the task of filling his shoes went to Bramwell Tovey. The chorus had sung with him before, but I had not, and had heard about his affability but not much about his musicianship. He turns out to be, at least with the Requiem, a conductor concerned not so much with putting an individual stamp on the work than with seeking how the text determines the flow of the piece. To that end he, like Dohnányi, asked the highest level of diction and pitch precision from the chorus. Our chorus conductor, Bill Cutter, helped with that, pitilessly letting us know when we could be doing better.
For this performance, my third time through the work, I had a pretty good idea of what some of the major challenges would be for me. I wrote about some of them in the post from Tanglewood:
I found what may be the real culprit of the sixth movement, for me at least. It’s not just the overall arc of the piece, but specifically the tenor part immediately preceding the fugue, where all choral voices respond… And the text is sung at absolutely full volume over some of the thickest orchestration in the work, and in the high part of the tenor range.
This is the rub, at least for me. The need to support the voice is strong, but at that volume and emotional fervor it’s very easy to tip over from supporting to tightening, and then the battle is lost and the voice closes progressively until it is difficult to get any sound out at all. Once that happens the following fugue is unsingable.
Well, friends, I’m here to tell you that I had the right problem area, but the solution was both easier and harder than I thought.
The hard part was in placing my voice properly. I have never had more than a few hours of formal voice instruction since I got my full instrument, and so it takes me a while to learn things that I suppose most voice majors know inherently. (The hazards of being a sciences major and not taking advantage of the meager vocal instruction offerings at my undergrad, among other things.) Sometime over the past few years, though, I managed to learn about two important concepts in voice placement: singing toward and through the mask, and keeping the ceiling of the vocal chamber high. What follows is an embarrassing amateur’s assessment of how this works; I welcome correction.
The “mask,” or the frontal bones of the face, is where a good portion of the resonant overtones of the voice develop, due in no small part to vibrations through the sinus cavities (yes, they’re good for something besides infections). But the voice must be directed through this part rather than being allowed to linger in the back of the vocal chamber for the resonance to take effect. Once it does, the difference is startling: a brightness and sharpness to the sound that cuts through surrounding noise for far less vocal effort. The challenges are in keeping the sinuses clear (no small task thanks to the common cold) and managing the position of the facial muscles that support singing so that the placement happens properly.
The full vocal chamber, otherwise known as the front of the face, the cavity of the mouth, and the back of the throat, is important in developing the fullness of the sound. Again, my amateur guess is that this has something to do with developing the right resonant frequencies. It turns out that for me, one of the most important parts of this process, in addition to the mask, is keeping the soft palate, which forms the ceiling of the vocal chamber, high and out of the way. If it comes down, producing sound on pitch is much harder, the sound is muddied, and if you’re singing through the mask and not taking advantage of the full chamber you get a sharp thin sound rather than a penetrating fuller sound.
This leads me to the other thing that was much easier in solving the problem. One of the things that makes keeping the soft palate in the proper place extremely hard is not being prepared for the next vowel sound that is being produced. If you are unsure about whether an e or an ah is coming next, the palate doesn’t know where to go, and producing any sort of sound at all becomes a challenge of brute force.
In this context, my prior problem about my voice “tightening” had a simple diagnosis: I was not comfortable with the text. By that point in movement six my memory was generally unreliable so I couldn’t anchor the Den es wird die Pasaune schallen. I finally figured out what was going on in one of our rehearsals when we started on the second repetition, Der Tod is verschlungen in den Sieg, sung on virtually the same tune, and I had no difficulty in keeping the voice from tightening. Why? I knew the words better! I didn’t have to force the sound, and that meant I could keep the palate high and the muscles in the proper place! All I had to do to make this a general solution was focus on ensuring that I had the right words!
So for this run I managed, most of the time, to keep the apparatus such that I was producing the right sort of sound throughout, and it made all the difference in the world. I even sang in my church choir the following morning; usually after a Brahms Requiem run I’m a ragged baritone for at least a week.
Lessons learned?
Stay conscious of the mask and the ceiling of the chamber.
Learn the damned text. First, if possible.
This should be fun as we head into the Rachmaninoff that we’ll sing next. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to learn that much Russian.
Starting to have the energy again to think about posting here, which is nice. I’ve been down the grindstone for a very very long time, and now, faced with some unexpected downtime, I’m going to use the opportunity to catch up on a few things.
Starting with this. I completed something other than regret, my 33rd mix in the modern era, on the 10th of November, and it’s all over the map, but with some pretty strong thematic material running through as well. I especially love the way that Laura Marling excavates on the three tracks from Once I Was an Eagle, which is my favorite album of 2013; the woozy, witchy, R&B-driven silliness of “Nommo (The Magick Song)” (“All praises due to the Black man,” indeed); the light touch of Antony’s “Crackagen”, and the way that John Fahey’s riff on Clarence Ashley’s “The Coo Coo Bird” fits so seamlessly with gospel. I’ve definitely got something other than regret.
Song-Song – Brad Mehldau Trio (The Art Of The Trio Volume 3)
Nommo- The Magick Song – Gary Bartz And NTU Troop (I’ve Known Rivers And Other Bodies)
Is That Enough – Yo La Tengo (Fade)
Blue Light – Mazzy Star (So Tonight That I Might See)
Life & Soul – The Sundays (Blind)
Take The Night Off – Laura Marling (Once I Was An Eagle)
I Was An Eagle – Laura Marling (Once I Was An Eagle)
Crackagen – Antony and the Johnsons (Another World)
Everybody’s Heart’s Breaking Now – Lavender Diamond (Incorruptible Heart)
Variations On The Coocoo – John Fahey (The Dance Of Death & Other Plantation Favorites)
Where Shall I Go? – Sister Marie Knight (When the Moon Goes Down in the Valley of Time: African-American Gospel, 1939-51)
Don’t Give Up – Peter Gabriel (So (Remastered 2012))
Incinerate – Sonic Youth (Rather Ripped)
Tiny Cities Made Of Ashes – Sun Kil Moon (Tiny Cities)
We’ll Sweep Out The Ashes In The Morning – Gram Parsons (G.P. / Grievous Angel)
Breathe – Laura Marling (Once I Was An Eagle)
Turn Your Color – The Men (Campfire Songs)
I’ll Fly Away – Southern Sons (When the Moon Goes Down in the Valley of Time: African-American Gospel, 1939-51)
As I grow … well, older isn’t right, and neither is more mature, so let’s just go with “as I grow,” I find that what I listen to is less about lyrics and singing along and more about just listening. So, of the 19 tracks on this mix, six have no words at all, and a few more are mostly nonsense.
No real notes here, except to note that Jonny Greenwood’s Bodysong, from 2003, is an unlikely sleeper album. There are bits that remind me of Ravel, and Berg, and glitchy techno, and sometimes they come in the same song.
Also: why did it take me so long to listen to Bruce Cockburn? He would have been right up my alley in 1988 or 1989.
Also also: I’m in the crowd for that 2004 Sonic Youth performance at the Showbox. This one.
Burning Of Auchidoon – Maddy Prior (Silly Sisters)
Tree (Today is an Important Occasion) – David Byrne (The Knee Plays)
Ready to Start – Arcade Fire (Ready to Start – Single)
Lovers In a Dangerous Time – Bruce Cockburn (Stealing Fire (Deluxe Edition))
Wiggle-Waggle – Herbie Hancock (Warner Archives)
Everything In Its Right Place – Radiohead (Kid A)
24 Hour Charleston – Jonny Greenwood (Bodysong (Soundtrack from the Motion Picture))
Concorde – Modern Jazz Quartet (Concorde)
Track 4 – Sigur Rós (( ))
Chemtrails – Beck (Modern Guilt)
Sorrow – The National (High Violet)
I Should Watch TV (M. Stine remix) – David Byrne & St. Vincent (Brass Tactics EP)
Pattern Recognition – Sonic Youth (Live at the Showbox in Seattle (2004))
Milky Way – Weather Report (Weather Report)
Alone And Forsaken – Neko Case (Live from Austin, Texas)
Hi-Speed Soul – Nada Surf (Let Go)
After All – Christian Scott (Yesterday You Said Tomorrow)
Bode Radio/Glass Light/Broken Hearts – Jonny Greenwood (Bodysong (Soundtrack from the Motion Picture))
I Wanna Dance With Somebody – David Byrne (David Byrne: Live from Austin, TX)
There’s not a lot to say about the Virginia Glee Club in the later 1950s, seemingly. The group lost one of its more influential directors, Stephen Tuttle, to Harvard in 1952, and saw two directors alternate during the remaining years. There were tours, sure; legend has it there were even panty raids on other campuses. But no LP survives from the period between 1952 for almost 20 years; no big commissioned work exists; nothing remains but a bunch of concert programs.
Except this. The image above is of an acetate recording that was made as a promo record and sent to radio stations. Seems that Donald MacInnis didn’t spend much time with his group recording because they spent time trying to get on live radio. We know they were broadcast on WTVR radio, probably as a result of this acetate.
(Aside: an “acetate” is actually made of aluminum—or, in the WWII years, glass—coated with a thin layer of lacquer. You could cut one live, and some did, but you could also copy prerecorded music onto it. It was common to use acetates for promotional recordings when the number of playbacks was unlikely to be high. You can see the aluminum under the black lacquer of this disk around the hole of the record.)
The repertoire on the disk is interesting, too. The Bach is pretty straightforward, but it’s followed up by a downright woozy version of “Careless Love,” and then by MacInnis’s own version of Tom Lehrer’s “The Hunting Song.” I’m trying to imagine that on a Glee Club program today. In fact, I’d pay money to see this paean to hunting, in which the protagonist bags 7 hunters, two game wardens, and a cow, on a modern day program.
It’s a fun recording, albeit short, at around 6 and a half minutes.
This has been building for a bit. I had more work to do on it, then I thought it was done. Then I heard the last two songs side by side and realized they were the perfect coda. So it’s a little longer than CD length. Oh well…
The Empty Page – Sonic Youth (Murray Street)
Rock And Roll – Led Zeppelin (Led Zeppelin Remasters)
Don’t Care – Klark Kent (Klark Kent)
What Difference Does It Make? – The Smiths (Hatful Of Hollow)
Manta Ray – Pixies (Complete ‘B’ Sides [UK])
Carry Me Ohio – Sun Kil Moon (Ghosts Of The Great Highway)
Vengeance Is Sleeping – Neko Case (Middle Cyclone (Bonus Track Version))
Back Of A Car – Big Star (#1 Record – Radio City)
Just Like Heaven – The Cure (Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me)
Space (I Believe In) – Pixies (Trompe Le Monde)
Lick the Palm of the Burning Handshake – Zola Jesus (Conatus)
Gravity’s Angel – Laurie Anderson (Mister Heartbreak)
Water Babies – Miles Davis (The Columbia Years 1955-1985)
Working For The Man – PJ Harvey (To Bring You My Love)
Lil Wallet Picture – Richard Buckner (Richard Buckner)
In the Devil’s Territory – Sufjan Stevens (Seven Swans)
I Don’t Recall – Lavender Diamond (Incorruptible Heart)
Dawned On Me – Wilco (The Whole Love)
Morpha Too – Big Star (#1 Record – Radio City)
Kiss Me On The Bus – The Replacements (Tim [Expanded Edition])
It’s been a while since I’ve done a new mix. This one, My heart’s beating is all the proof you need (Art of the Mix), has been interesting–a little more upbeat than some of my past efforts, a few songs that have been kicking around my library for many years. I think the subtheme of this mix is in the second song: “It’s getting better all the time (can’t get no worse!).”
So there’s some party time stuff, both benign and wild; some funny tracks (I dare you to listen to “Bloody” with a straight face); and some contemplative stuff. There’s not a lot of deep digging (outside of the Tom Waits/John Lurie track and maybe “Amen Brother,” which features what must be the most sampled drum break in the prehistory of hiphop), just some really fun listening. Just right for early spring.
River of Men – Tom Waits/John Lurie (Fishing With John – Original Music From The Series By John L)
Getting Better – The Beatles (Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band)
Just Like Heaven – The Cure (Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me)
Mondo ’77 – Looper (The Geometrid)
Amen’ Brother – The Winstons (Color Him Father (Original Masters))
In The Street – Big Star (#1 Record – Radio City)
Happy Kid – Nada Surf (Let Go)
Don’t You Just Know It – Huey “Piano” Smith and the Clowns (Don’t You Just Know It [EP])
Pictures Of You – The Cure (Disintegration)
Near Wild Heaven – R.E.M. (Out Of Time)
Friends Stoning Friends – Mclusky (Alan Is A Cowboy Killer)
The Ox (Original Mono Version) – The Who (The Who Sings My Generation)
Head On – Pixies (Trompe Le Monde)
No Hiding Place – Elvis Costello (Momofuku)
Bloody – Golinski Brothers (The John Peel Singles Box)
Do You Wanna Hit It? – The Donnas (The Donnas Turn 21)
Yard Of Blonde Girls – Jeff Buckley (Sketches for My Sweetheart The Drunk)
Codex – Radiohead (The King of Limbs)
Steam Engine – My Morning Jacket (It Still Moves)
Calling My Children Home – Emmylou Harris (Spyboy)
It’s been four years since I last sang at Carnegie Hall, and Tuesday I’ll be there again, performing the Beethoven Missa Solemnis with the Boston Symphony, under the direction of the Tanglewood Festival Chorus’s John Oliver. It’s been an interesting run, for a host of reasons that have little to do with the music and everything to do with the musicians.
But one thing about it that’s particularly interesting to me is that I find myself still trying to figure out this work. Even though it was the first major work I sang with a symphonic chorus, eighteen years ago. Even though I sang it once more with Robert Shaw fourteen years ago.
It shouldn’t surprise me how much there is to learn about this work. Beethoven wrote it at the height of his powers, and close to the end of his life, at the same time he was composing the Ninth Symphony. I think it’s equally as great a work as the Ninth, but more difficult to approach. Because where the Ninth resolves eternal conflict through the relatively accessible lens of joy and brotherhood, the Missa doesn’t really resolve the conflict at all, and uses religion as the lens through which the conflict is examined.
The movement I’ve been fixated on is the “Agnus Dei.” It’s the last movement of the piece, and as Maestro Oliver points out, it’s unique in that it’s a classical composition–as in, big C classical, partaking much more of Mozart or Haydn than does the rest of the work. It’s very structured, relatively formal, and can seem either light hearted or too mannered if you approach it in the wrong way.
I’m coming at the piece through a gout attack–the first one I’ve had in several years, only the second major one I’ve had–and I think I understand it a little better. I see the “Agnus Dei” as Beethoven trying to come to terms with what was happening to him at the end of his life–his total deafness, his approaching mortality. There are shifting tones in it of fear and of utter desolation. (Which also became clear to me for the first time on this concert run, when we sang the “Miserere” section after hearing Maestro Kurt Masur’s announcement that he could not conduct and his quiet confession that the Missa was too much and that he would never conduct it again.) And I certainly feel an echo of that in my frustration in being unable to stand without pain, or at the worst even to have something touch my foot.
But then comes the “Dona Nobis Pacem.” And where in Berlioz or other masses it’s a cry for help, there’s something quietly assured about the way Beethoven sets this text. It’s a fugue in a major key that keeps returning even over outbreaks of “Miserere.” Done lightly or thoughtlessly, the contrast is jarring. Done in the spirit of the thing, it is meditation, a plea for self control.
It reminds me of The Waste Land, actually. As Eliot’s associative madness pulls in imagery from Hieronymo to bats to women fiddling on their hair, the poet reaches for “Datta, Dayadhvam, Damyata.”–“give, sympathize, control”–and then “Shantih, shantih, shantih.” A mantra in the strictly correct sense of the word. And while it’s debatable whether Eliot truly achieves “the peace that passeth all understanding” even by the end of the work, it’s pretty clear that Beethoven’s “pacem, pacem” performs the same function for him. It’s a reaching of acceptance of all that is in life, an acknowledgement of peace and its power.
And it will be very hard to convey that in performance. But now that I know that it’s there, maybe I can try to make it happen.
When you’re as rusty on the blog as I am, you don’t say no to a meme when it drops into your lap. Thanks to Eileen Huang, fellow TFCer and collaborative pianist, for the tag.
First instrument: piano. Thanks, Mom, for the instruction.
Age at first music lesson: Five, I think.
First piece performed in public: I can’t remember any of the piano ones, so we’ll go with my solo vocal debut, a retrospectively cringe-inducing version of Sting’s “Sister Moon” with saxophone accompaniment at the Virginia Governor’s School for the Sciences talent show in 1989.
Piece most recently performed in public: A slightly odd John Jacob Niles arrangement of “Wayfaring Stranger.”
Band camp: Nope. Not even orchestra camp.
Marching band: With a violin?
College a cappella? Undergrad, no; not for lack of trying. Grad school: yes, though we weren’t very good, not for lack of trying.
Absolute pitch: no.
Movable do or fixed do: Fixed, I suppose, though I never gave it much thought.
Faux pas: At the same Governor’s School talent show, forgot all the words to Weird Al’s “One More Minute.” My collaborator slapped me to try to restore my memory. It only ensured that I could never remember the words ever again.
Favorite conductor hair: Jimmy Levine, of course.
I wish I could play: any instrument these days. Happy I can still sing.
One of the great composers of the late 20th century passed away today. Like many others, I discovered Górecki’s music through his Symphony No. 3, and turned quite a few other people on to him the same way. I will always remember an afternoon in late spring 1994, a few weeks before I graduated from the University of Virginia, sitting in the middle of the Lawn across from the open door of my room, listening to Dawn Upshaw’s voice at maximum volume with Craig Fennell and Diane Workman and deciding that this Polish composer had a lot to say.
I went on to sing a few of his works, particularly as part of a concert of 20th century choral music with the Cathedral Choral Society, but also during a program with the Cascadian Chorale. As a singer, it was fascinating how so few notes, so few suspensions, could carry so much emotional content and be so impossibly challenging to sing.
As I write this, Górecki’s “Amen” just came up on my iPhone, as if to say: as with all composers, what’s important is still with us.
Dr. Wertham has become a special sort of villain in the minds of comics aficionados. It will be interesting to hear what sorts of things surface from these papers.
Indeed. Proponents of jailbreaking don’t seem to realize that what they call “jailbreaks” others call “exploitable security vulnerabilities” that make it trivial for a hostile attacker to pwn the device.
There’s a fair bit of chatter about the MacMillan St. John Passion, so I thought I’d do a quick roundup. I’ll lead off with three other TFC bloggers, two of whom I’ve already linked, then include a few other notes.
Tenore (Len): Free tickets available. Len writes, “While some of it is tonally challenging and a bitch to sing, most of it is quite melodic and beautiful.” Which of course drew a comment from the composer (seriously).
Jeff, aka Just Another Bass, has a set of great articles about the process and the piece.
Then there’s all the other writings, some of which stem from the piece’s first round of performances, others are more contemporary:
The Guardian, James MacMillan charts the progress of his latest composition The Passion. Interesting diary in progress of the work. My favorite bit from the article: “The scene where Jesus is brought before Pilate is the work’s biggest movement. It’s pure drama. This is the first point where I’ve wondered if I need more soloists. Instead, I’ve decided to give the role of Pilate to the basses. His music has a particular colour – a desiccated, dry clicking sound, col legno strings, temple blocks with low bassoons and parping trombones. It’s a challenge to write this music for chorus rather than soloists; I’m trying to write what I feel the part needs while making sure it’s still manageable for an amateur chorus. I’ve just written a tricky F sharp up to F natural interval for the basses – the music has to prepare and help them in some way, so I’ve outlined the interval in the timpani which sets up a kind of context so they can feel more relaxed about it. They’ll still scream when they first see it, I’m sure.” (For what it’s worth, the TFC basses are doing just fine with the part.)
The Jewish Daily, Forward: MacMillan and strife: a new ‘St. John Passion.’ The article calls out the orchestration and the inclusion of the Reproaches text in leveling a charge of antisemitism against the work.
Boston Globe, An act of ‘Passion’. Good introduction to the piece for American audiences, including the perspective of Sir Colin Davis, our conductor for the run.
My latest mix, “september grrls,” did not start out to be (almost) all women artists, but it ended up that way. After strong releases this year from Shannon Worrell, PJ Harvey, Neko Case, and others, plus Kim Gordon’s contributions to the latest Sonic Youth… well, I couldn’t resist. Add to that a few songs that have been kicking around my library forever, waiting for a home, and you’ve got yourself a mix.
This Is What You Do – Gemma Hayes (Hollow of Morning)
Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) – Kate Bush (Hounds of Love)
Black Hearted Love – PJ Harvey & John Parish (A Woman a Man Walked By)
Iamundernodisguise – School of Seven Bells (Alpinisms)
Song To Bobby – Cat Power (Jukebox)
Jericho – Greta Gaines (Greta Gaines)
Lake Charles Boogie – Nellie Lutcher (Oxford American 2003 Southern Music CD No. 6)
If You’re Ready (Come Go with Me) – The Staple Singers (The Stax Story: Finger-Snappin’ Good [Disc 3])
When the Other Foot Drops, Uncle – Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings (100 Days, 100 Nights)
Diamond Heart – Marissa Nadler (Songs III: Bird On the Water)
If I Can Make You Cry – Shannon Worrell (The Honey Guide)
For Today I Am A Boy – Antony and the Johnsons (I Am A Bird Now)
Massage the History – Sonic Youth (The Eternal)
Crater Lake – Liz Phair (Whip-Smart)
I’m an Animal – Neko Case (Middle Cyclone (Bonus Track Version))
Who Is It (Carry My Joy On the Left, Carry My Pain On the Right) – Björk (Medulla)
The Way I Am (Recorded Live on WERS) – Ingrid Michaelson (Be OK)
Sweet Like You – Shannon Worrell (The Honey Guide)
At Constant Speed – Gemma Hayes (Hollow of Morning)
September Gurls – Big Star (#1 Record – Radio City)
Why? A few reasons. First, time. Where ripping a CD can be done in much less than the time to listen to it, and in the comfort of an armchair, an LP requires at least as much time to rip as to listen to it. Then there’s taking the file, leveling it, splitting the tracks, importing them to iTunes, and then (because of a bug in Amadeus Pro’s lossless AAC files) reimporting them as AAC. So for one record, it takes the evening. And one unsuccessful rip–there was a lot of surface noise on my copy of Peter Gabriel II–put me off the project for a good long while.
And now? I finally got around to ripping my vinyl of 10,000 Maniacs’ early hit In My Tribe, and it was a revelation. The sound from the ripped vinyl was superb, and the music was superb…er. The opening chords of “What’s the Matter Here” were as gripping as the lyrics are depressing; “Hey Jack Kerouac” and “Like the Weather” were similarly moving and dynamic. Listening to the record took me back to when R.E.M. played a lot of 12 string and when indie meant Guadalcanal Diary and the Connells. The second half of the record lags a bit, but the final song, the unpromisingly named “Verdi Cries,” was moving and insightful.
In these recessionary times, there’s something to be said for rediscovering music through vinyl instead of paying to download it again. Even if it takes an evening to get the music on one’s iPod.
