Reading Notes

7-8 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended

Topics and Themes

A love letter to the iPod Shuffle; Digital downloads lack a home; The iPod Shuffle's backwards compatability.

Sometimes, the whole world closes up tight on me. My options seem limited. Progress slows to a trickle. My thoughts flail around like flies in syrup. Stuckness abounds. It happens. It’s a part of the seasons of life.

Eventually, the world opens back up again. Emotions flow easily. Colors burst more vibrantly. Life regains its delectable mystery. This time, the music of Tomasz Bednarczyk, Swartz et, Rival Consoles, and Kin Leonn has all opened up my world again. I find myself grinning more because of them.

Most of the time, I am late to the party in unearthing artists like these. These musicians release their music on small independent record labels who duplicate very limited quantities of vinyl records or CDs. Inevitably, these artists run out of the good stuff before I can nab a physical copy. They are highly prized and valued because they are so limited. This forces me to choose between grabbing a digital download of the record, or streaming it on Spotify. I totally dislike the latter. Unfortunately, the former comes with the annoyance of the music not having a dedicated physical home.

Marc Weidenbaum, author of the excellent This Week In Sound newsletter, also admitted he feels perplexed about where to store digital downloads of records. Clearly, he can store vinyl records and CDs on shelves in his apartment. That’s easy. Let’s also admit that a big vinyl record collection is one hellova humblebrag. What happens if the vinyl isn’t available, if the record is only available digitally? The download doesn’t have a dedicated spot for storage. Digital downloads exist in multiple places at once: a phone, a computer, a tablet, the cloud, in our minds at 3am when we’re trying to sleep (or maybe that’s just me…) and more. In other words, digital downloads exist everywhere and nowhere, simultaneously.

Vinyl Record Love

Vinyl records are different. They are physical, present, and they have weight. I also love the sound of vinyl records. I love big artwork. I love the look of them on my shelf (read: humblebrag). Plus, I appreciate that I don’t need WiFi to listen to any one of them. I come from a generation that had Sony Walkmans and portable CD players. For us, it was exciting to stumble upon a new band by listening to CDs in a listening booth at a record shop. Sure, we missed out on the abundance of music that Spotify offers, but as I’ve mentioned elsewhere on my blog, having millions of options has a significant dark side.

Nowadays, I limit and deliberately curate the records I choose to listen to. It’s the 80/20 principle in action. I want to find the most highly-inspired records that I’ll listen to for weeks on end. Finding these records makes me happy. Such treasures. The trouble is, what do I listen to them on if I’m not in my acoustically-controlled environment at my home studio?

A Quest for the Perfect Listening Device

Recently, I pined for a piece of equipment, both as simple as a Sony Walkman and as hip as a record player, to serve as a storage space that unfussily stores the digital versions of albums I enjoy. I wanted something I could take anywhere. It had to look cool, feel nice, and quickly deliver my music without distraction. It needed to play the music I purchased under any circumstance, even if there’s no WiFi. Finally, the device was not allowed to be my phone.

That’s when I remembered I had an iPod Shuffle gathering dust in a closet. What a perfect, elegant solution!

iPod Shuffle

The Charm of the iPod Shuffle

This beautiful little device weighs just 22 grams. It's smart. It’s appealing. It’s functional. The design is snappy. It feels great when you grasp it. It’s like holding a tiny baby chick in your palm: cute overload. I realize I’m channeling Jerry Seinfeld introducing the cars in Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee, but I think I could channel much worse (and I bet you would agree).

Despite having no screen, the iPod Shuffle is incredibly easy to use. The play button doubles as both play and pause. Volume controls are the + and - signs on the top and bottom of the white circle. You can skip songs on the playlist using the clearly marked buttons on the left and right sides of the white circle. When I long-press the button on top, a voice announces which album I’m listening to. I get a chuckle out of that Web 2.0 robot voice.

The iPod Shuffle has enough capacity for 2 GB of music. To listen to an album I purchased digitally, I create a playlist on my Mac with the music and drag the playlist onto the iPod. I plug in my actual headphones with a cord (remember those?), long-press the button on top to choose the album, and then press play. That’s it.

Best of all, the iPod Shuffle cannot connect to the internet. It's completely neutered from receiving notifications from this person/that company/whomever. I can listen to music for hours in peace and happiness. Uninterrupted musical enjoyment!

A Nostalgic Relic

The iPod shuffle couldn’t be easier to operate, nor could it have been better designed.

And yet, as music shifted from being purchased to getting streamed, the iPod faded in popularity. People gradually forgot about it. Apple retired it altogether in 2017. I understand. The iPod is a relic from a time when we bought music instead of renting it.

Sure, the iPod made sense before Spotify, but now?

Not really, unless you’re like me. Unless you enjoy endlessly searching sites like Bandcamp for something new and interesting to listen to. Unless you love digging into an album for months on end because it completely scratches that itch in just the right way. Unless you want a solid solution for listening to records on the go, from start to finish, sans notifications. Unless you want something that doesn't take up a whole lot of room in your fanny pack.

There's never a bad time to take a nuanced look at how we engage with music. The mediums that music gets delivered on (streaming, vinyl, downloads, CDs, tapes, carrier pigeons) are worthy of consideration. How we own music affects how we value it. Streaming proved that people aren’t willing to value music as much as did before. For those who want the vinyl, we can't always get a copy. More often than not, we have to settle for a digital download (or worse... streaming). In that case, the time is ripe to consider the benefits of a dedicated listening device for the digital albums we've purchased.

The iPod Shuffle combines a genuine simplicity with an early 2010s nostalgia, and it couldn’t get a higher recommendation from me.

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Reading Notes

2 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended

Topics and Themes

Evaluating all options; Trade-off consciousness; Making informed decisions

This was me before I considered the trade-offs in every decision:

"I can do anything. Every possible option holds value and significance. The more I work, the better it is. You never know what might turn out to be profitable, so why not do it all?”

This is me after I considered the trade-offs in every decision:

"I will do one thing, and I’ll do it exceptionally well. I accept the sacrifices. I expect that one thing will bring me success.”

The Meaning of Decision

The word "decision" carries a certain sharpness. Just look at the Latin word it comes from: decidere.

“De,” meaning off or away. “Caedere,” meaning to cut.

Decidere means to cut off.

The word "decision" suggests that each time we make a choice, we cut off numerous options.

And there’s the rub… the trade-offs. We can’t do everything, so we need to make do with the best option we’ve got. Unfortunately, there's always trade-offs. Always. Even with easy decisions. We just find it easy to make the easy decisions because we’re already okay with the trade-offs.

The Wisdom of Evaluating Trade-Offs

Here’s the great news:

Considering the trade-offs beforehand allows for spectacularly powerful decisions. Doing so enables us to find the best possible option and fully commit to it.

If we can see that option A is something we actually want, if options B, C, D, E, and F are just stupid, then we can cut them out and simply go for option A. Because we considered the tradeoffs and cut off the hanger-ons, we significantly enhance our well-being, creativity, and professional success. No more harried, “I gotta do everything” moments. Sweet!

Here’s an example:

I wanted more energy to create music, teach more effectively, and write better blogs (Hopefully? Ahem? Maybe?). I decided to sacrifice the immense fun of smoking cigars, eating out, and watching movies during my four-day workweek. I save all this fun stuff for my slothful three-day weekend. During the four-day workweek, though, I make those trade-offs.

I used to get annoyed with myself for having a lack of energy when it came to consistent engagement in my professional life. Now, I can coast though my workweek with a greater ease. I create more music, write more effectively (Again, maybe?), and am more available to my students.

Only time will tell whether I stick to this routine. So far, it’s working out. I’m used to the trade-offs. I made a conscious decision to create more balance, fully aware of the sacrifices. I achieved that balance.

Final Thought

Let’s end this conversation on a bang, why don’t we?

Thomas Sowell wisely pointed out:

“There are no decisions. There are only trade-offs.”

Whoa.

---

This post was inspired and influenced by Essentialism by Greg McKeown. I totally recommend it.

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Reading Notes

3-5 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended

Topics and Themes

Netflix's pivot to streaming; Most options are trashy; Find the best option and throw the rest out.

Reed Hastings, former head of Netflix, is living proof that only a few things really matter. The story of how Hastings built Netflix into a behemoth is partly a story of how he had numerous options presented to him, but ended up selecting the best possible path for the company. Everyone who loves to create art or music can gain valuable insights from understanding how Netflix became a household name.

How Netflix Crushed It

In the early 2000s, Netflix pretty much obliterated the movie rental market with its strategy to send DVD rentals to customers while waiving late fees. It probably put Blockbuster out of business.

Netflix was prospering. There was no reason to rock the boat. Reed Hastings, however, recognized the potential of the internet to wipe out the business model of renting physical DVDs when people wanted to watch movies at home.

He had a choice. He could maintain the existing business model based on DVD rentals, despite the drawbacks of sending physical items to customers who might not return them. Or, he could gradually leverage the expanding technology of the internet to deliver movies directly to people’s homes, instantly, with no extra effort required to return the DVD.

In other words, he could have chosen the many options that would bolster, defend, and protect Netflix's already successful DVD rental business, or he could slowly invest in a single option that had the potential to rewrite the script on how customers watched movies at home.

We all know the end to this story. Netflix is, well, Netflix. And there’s much we can learn from it as artists by analyzing it. To me, Netflix's pivot serves as an ideal example of how to filter through the thousands of bad options to get to the one option that truly crushes it.

Most Options Are Trashy

Options appear and disappear, freely, easily, and constantly. There’s no shortage of options! And to be super clear: Most of the options we have to choose from are not worth it. Very few of them have any significance at all.

Think of all the social media posts you scrolled through recently (ahem!). Which ones stand out in your mind? How many of them do you remember? I'd be surprised if you remember more than one or two posts (ahem, again!).

You had options. There's no shortage of social media posts. But if you can’t remember much about most of them, were they good options to invest your time in? Maybe doom-scrolling doesn't actually do a whole lot for us after all...

And that’s the thing: Most options are not worthy of your time.

Finding the Best Option Takes Time, Effort, and Courage

Reed Hastings invested time to uncover the internet’s potential for streaming. He invested resources into analytics and monitored the changing landscape of consumer behavior. He observed how technology improved enough to handle streaming. He moved forward because he saw the best possible route to grow Netflix. That kind of decision-making requires time, effort, and a boatload of courage.

But, just because making choices requires so much effort does not excuse us from taking every single option presented to us at face value. Let's not make a friend out of laziness.

As we create, be it music or art or film or whatever, we will encounter thousands of options. They will get delivered to us, constantly, whether we like it or not. Should we use this color? Should we use that chord progression? Should we shape the character’s arc in more ways?

Choosing gets easier when we remember that most of the options don't have any value. Only a few options truly matter. John Maxwell rightfully said: You can not overestimate the unimportance of practically everything.

Perhaps we, as artists, ought to save ourselves for the one extraordinary option that outshines all the others and lean into it. Perhaps we could do better to accept the tradeoffs of cutting away the insignificant in favor of the one brilliant and shining idea.

Reed Hastings certainly had plenty of insignificant options in front of him. He could have bolstered and propped up Netflix’s DVD rental business with all his resources. And yet? He chose the best option after quite a lot of deliberation and gradually invested in it. He made that decision thoughtfully, and now we all know Netflix.

In our work as creatives, let’s do the same. Let’s carefully discard as many trivial (or trashy or insignificant or stupid) options as possible. Let’s instead invest in the best options only, from here on out.

Let's do the art that we really want to do.

---

This post was inspired and influenced by Essentialism by Greg McKeown. I totally recommend it.

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Reading Notes

4 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended

Topics and Themes

Shifting to manageable, focused routines; Finding a bare minimum routine that works; Showing up.

My First Epic Fail as a Teacher

When I first began teaching, I told the same thing to every student:

“You must practice an hour a day to learn guitar.”

I remember the look on people’s faces… nearly expressionless, stone cold, and with a hint of fatigue. My guess is they were sizing up whether or not they wanted to learn from me.

I have wised-up.

I realized most people have little interest in practicing for an hour each day. They love to play, of course. But practice? Good, hard, deliberate practice? For an hour?

Nope.

People who came to learn guitar from me led full lives. They had families that deserved their attention. They had careers that occupied many hours of their weekdays. They wanted to learn guitar because they knew how awesome it would feel to play it, not because they wanted to become professional musicians.

Perhaps guilting people into practicing an hour a day wasn’t such a smart idea. I began saying this instead:

“If you want the most bang for your buck, practice [insert specific practice suggestion here] for five minutes each day until our next meeting.”

And the crazy thing? It worked. Why?

1. Students could easily carve out five minutes.

2. Students had a clear understanding of what to practice.

The Bare Minimum Routine

Recommending five minutes of practice to my students is an example of a bare minimum routine. A bare minimum routine is a manageable task that we can accomplish every single day regardless of our time, mood, or energy level. The bare minimum routine encourages us to go deep whenever we have the inspiration to stay at that task and play with it for longer. It also forgives us when we just don’t have the time.

Long before I had a catchy name for it, I recognized the importance of daily habits. I loved making investments in my skills. I found my skills grew fastest when I showed up every day to work on them. This included skills like orchestration, synthesizers, score study, and many others. The more I showed up to learn about these subjects, the easier composing became for me. It also became more fun. I felt better, stronger, and more directed.

The Struggle with Rigid Expectations

The problem occurred if I dramatically stated, “I will study orchestration/synths/films for an hour a day, no matter what.”

Inevitably, I had days when I really hated doing this. Like, I really fucking hated every damned second of some of those hours.

Setting aside an hour each day for a single task felt rigid, cumbersome, and frustrating especially on days when I had little time to spare. It didn't matter that I was studying something I loved. I was crushing the energy for learning.

At the same time, I didn’t want to skip practicing altogether. I genuinely cared about improving my musical skills. I struggled to find a reasonable balance.

Now that I have established bare minimum routines, everything has improved so much for the better. I can relax a little bit more.

For example, here’s my bare minimum for composing and piano for each day:

Two notes, each.

I write two notes on a page. I play two notes on the piano. That’s it. That’s my bare minimum routine. No matter what, I always show up and I always do that.

With the task completed, I was left open to write more music or play more piano, if I felt inspired.

On some days, I’d compose an entire page worth of notes. I’d end up playing piano for an hour straight, coming up with ideas that kinda blew my mind. There were moments when I could hardly tear myself away.

What happened on the other days when I wasn't so into it? I showed up and I did just two notes. I completed the bare minimum, and I walked away.

That’s the magic of the bare minimum routine. We select simple yet powerful tasks that we can easily accomplish, knowing they will benefit us in the long run. These tasks get completed quickly on days we don't have a lot of time, and they leave room for inspiration to take root on the days that we can stretch out a bit.

Embracing Daily Engagement

I love my creative routines now, even more. I value that I can make progress with a simple, daily engagement. In my opinion, that’s the very definition of mastery.

No matter what, I show up every day. That’s the point of a bare minimum routine.

You just show up.

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Reading Notes

7-9 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended

Topics and Themes

The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron; A journey of a hard-working film producer exploring her creativity; The transformation we can expect from getting in touch with our creativity.

In 9th grade, I permanently borrowed The Artist's Way from my Mom. The title arrested my attention... I had no idea why, but I just needed to liberate it from her bookshelf and keep it for my very own. Sorry, Mom! Only later did I realize how pivotal that act would be for my personal and professional life.

If it weren’t for The Artist's Way, I probably wouldn’t have become a professional musician. It is widely regarded as one of the most influential books on the topic of creativity. In it, author Julia Cameron invites readers to roll up their sleeves and get to work opening the channel to greater creativity. The book does not wax poetic about the wonders of creativity or how the master artists were so creative. Instead it teaches readers how to dig in and become creative themselves through a 12-week program of self-exploration.

The Artist's Way ignited my creativity by teaching me that journaling, often referred to as the morning pages, helps unlock a creative mindset. At first, I struggled getting up before other members of my family, but I got used to it eventually. I began in earnest to write my morning pages. I began to enjoy the feel of the pen in my hand. I needed a place to vent my teenage frustrations anyways... a dual bonus!

I continued writing my morning pages (and going on artist dates) for many years. I still find time for both of them in my busy life, today. I find them indispensible for my creative process. Regardless of whether I'm working on a film score or an album, the common denominator has always been the daily task of the morning pages. They have nourished me for 30 years.

So, when my good friend Mary Beth Minnis asked me if I had ever read The Artist's Way, I couldn’t contain my excitement.

Mary Beth Minnis is an American movie producer known for her work in documentary films. She most recently collaborated on the projects Refuge, Juneteenth: Faith And Freedom, and Jump Shot, each of which addressed lesser-known stories that needed to be told. All of the films are worth watching. She’s currently working with directors Laura Waters Hinson and Claudia Myers on the film The Test, a film about a maintenance man at a Virginia retirement center who dreams of becoming a citizen so he can reunite with his wife and children in Ghana. With his future at stake, he enlists the help of two elderly residents to prepare for the biggest test of his life: the US Citizenship exam. I saw The Test at Austin Film Festival in 2023. It was the only movie from that year that made me cry. I highly recommend it.

Mary Beth’s career as a producer is highly competitive and energetically intense. She once told me she dedicates an average of three years to a single film. It requires a lot of her, but she loves it.

When Mary Beth casually asked me if I had ever read The Artist's Way, I spilled my guts about my absolute love for that book and all it can do for anyone who commits to it. I was also thrilled that my friend, this high-powered, absolutely badass film producer, seemed eager to explore creativity on a deeper level. I couldn’t help but offer to be a guide and accountability partner as she went through the book.

We agreed to meet up each week to discuss the book, chapter by chapter. I’d pester her about doing the morning pages and the artist's dates, and we’d move forward to the next chapter.

At first, Mary Beth had a little trouble fitting the morning pages into her busy life. She also had a little trouble grasping why she needed to do the artist's date. To provide context, the artist's date is a scheduled hour or two full of fun. It’s about doing something interesting to our inner artist in an easy, effortless, playful way. It often feels like we are wasting time doing it. At first, she didn't see the point of doing it.

Yet, she kept on reading the book, doing the morning pages, and going on the artist's dates. She dug in! She had no idea what was going to happen. Me? I was super excited. I knew I was in for a big surprise and I couldn't wait until it revealed itself.

Gradually, moments of spontaneous creativity burst into her life. One day, a recipe for a cake unexpectedly came to her mind. She approached it with a sense of curiosity and playfulness. She explored it without pressure, without needing to complete it immediately. She gave the recipe the space to breathe and become what it wanted to be.

Let’s back up: You need to remember that Mary Beth Minnis does not slack off in her job as a film producer. It was quite a juxtaposition for her to explore a recipe so casually, in such a carefree way.

Instead of saying, “I have to get this cake done or I’m not creating,” Mary Beth allowed herself to have some fun exploring the recipe of that cake. She flowed. She adjusted how much more, or less, of each ingredient she wanted in the cake. Eventually, she found just the right balance. She put almost no efforting into the entire process.

Before she knew it, she had a cake recipe that she liked. She baked the same cake for friends at a potluck and didn’t tell anyone it was hers. The cake vanished in a few minutes. Everyone raved about it. She began to share the recipe with friends who baked it and loved it. She felt like she might be onto something!

Then, even more magic happened: New recipes flowed to her in a remarkably easy way. An ingredient she used in one recipe inspired another. The same thing happened, over and over again. She was thrilled! She was opening up and enjoying the process of creating new recipes just for the sake of creating, and they were pouring out of her imagination.

Again, I want to underscore a really important point: It's super difficult to be a film producer. Film producers are by-and-large responsible for the success (or failure) of a film. They think in hard terms of fiduciary responsibility, management, and business productivity. They corral people together to get a project done on time and under budget. Mary Beth excels at producing films. But, since her involvement was more on the practical side of filmmaking, she doubted her ability to create.

And yet, she ended up completely immersed in the process of creation. It just wasn’t in a way that she expected. Perhaps she thought that creativity was reserved for those with that innate creative gene. Still, she found herself lost in the joy of creating new recipes. I didn’t expect it either! And that’s the point. We never know what we'll create until we are open and carefree enough to try.

I can’t help but marvel at her transformation. What a joy to witness!

If Mary Beth's journey resonated with you, I humbly recommend The Artist's Way. This book will teach you how to embrace your creativity if you commit to it for the 12 weeks it asks of you.

It’s worth it for the joy, alone.

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Reading Notes

1 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended

Topics and Themes

Set the intension; Ask for what you want

Can you handle disappointment if you don’t get what you want, even after asking for it?

Even after setting a New Years Intention and checking on it's progress?

I say go ahead and ask for it, no matter how ambitious, no matter the outcome.

Why?

If you don’t ask, the answer is likely no.

Plus if you don’t ask, how can you expect to get it?

More so, how do you know if you really want it if you’re not willing to say it and own it?

Stating your intention is powerful. It means what you want has been stated. It means there’s energy behind what you want.

It means it's out there, man.

It’s not all bad news if you don’t get what you want…

If you don’t get what you want, it might just not be the right time. You never know: Something better could even be on the way.

It’s okay to feel disappointed if you don't get what you want, but remember those feelings won’t last forever.

When you get through that, set the same intention again.

It’s better to be an honest dreamer than a bitter cynic.

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I recently stumbled upon a couple of Christmas songs in my back catalog. They’re quite slow and reminiscent of "The Red House Painters," of the most incredible slowcore bands ever.

For subscribers of Fire, Fire, Red Star Down only.

Reading Notes

6-8 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended

Topics and Themes

Context in Marketing; Behind-the-scenes of Archive Volume Three; Fixing audio with Izotope RX; Stories overpower recording quality

I have to be mindful to avoid falling into a common musician self-promotion pitfall. You know the one, especially if you have a friend who's a musician:

“You should check out my music. I’m on Spotify, Apple Music, and all the streaming services. Tell me what you think.”

I'll admit, I've done this to many friends! The last time I complained about how promotion like this doesn't really work (because it doesn't), a friend of mine patiently reminded me that context is everything in marketing. Paraphrased:

"If I met a musician on the street and he said, 'Hey check out my music,' I wouldn't do it. But if he spoke more generally about the ideas surrounding music that he likes, if he talks about things about music that he gets fired up about, and then told me how his music fits into that context, I'm far more likely to check it out.”

It was so simple that I forgot it for a moment: Context means everything.

I recently began these Behind-The-Scenes articles to give some context (the first one was for Lodern by Wicked Cities From A Distance). They’re similar to the commentary you used to get with DVD releases: You learn about how the music was crafted and hopefully gain some insight into what inspired it. And of course, if you dig the music, it's great for both of us. If you’re not into the music, you might be interested to see how it all came together, and what inspired the album in the first place.

Today, I want to do a behind-the-scenes look about Grande Valley Auction Incident's new album Archive Volume Three:

The origin story of Archive Volume Three

As I mentioned before on this blog, I recently unearthed some old tapes in the closet of my studio. My curiosity got the better of me. I had to know what was on them. I dusted off my old cassette tape player and popped one of those tapes in. I was horrified by what came out of the speakers.

The horror gave way to a little bit of shock, which led quickly to annoyance. Couldn't I have done better than that?!?

After a couple of days of mental back-and-forth, I became curious about the songs. Isn't there a curious force, a weird magic behind these recordings? Couldn't I possibly fix them up? Couldn't I use it as a chance to get better at audio engineering? I was willing to try. Besides, things were far getting too serious and I needed a chance to poke fun at myself a little bit. What better way to have a little fun than to publish some excessively personal, depressing songs recorded almost twenty years ago on a terrible cassette recorder?!?

The process of repairing the audio

The first problem I ran into was fixing the audio because the songs were recorded on a subpar cassette recorder using an internal microphone. It would be generous to say that the sound quality was... rough. I needed to eliminate the hum of the gears and the grinding sounds picked up by the internal microphone. It took some experimentation to figure out how to get rid the audio of the nasty artifacts, but Izotope RX10 ended up the winner:

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Izotope RX10 DeNoising Plugins

Since both the voice and guitar were recorded in one take with just one microphone, I couldn’t adjust the vocal volume seperately afterwords. I had to grab the Master Rebalance plugin for Ozone 9 to boost the vocals back up:

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Master Rebalance plugin for Izotope Ozone 9

Finally, I needed to control the “ss” sound in the vocals, often called sibilance. If sibilence gets out of control, any "ss" I sang would sound harsh, piercing, jarring, and downright bad. I relied upon Ozone’s Dynamic EQ module and Soothe2 by Oeksound for "De-Essing," and it sounded passable:

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Ozone’s Dynamic EQ module and Soothe2 by Oeksound

When I approached each track individually, I needed to surgically remove offensive frequencies lest they take over the mix. Neutron’s EQ module allowed me to do just that. For example, on the third song, Generational Fails, I made these adjustments:

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Neutron’s EQ module on Generational Fails

Overall, the changes I made up to this point accounted for 80% of the results. The remaining processing involved addressing smaller issues on each track and adding light touches to the master track. I enjoyed figuring out how to make this sound as appealing as possible. To be brutally honest, I don’t think I achieved much. Lo-Fi music is still lo-fi music, and you can't really polish a turd.

The origin story makes the music interesting (hopefully)

Still, despite the white-hot emotional mess I was in when I recorded these songs, I feel a tiny bit proud of them. I try to remember that it isn’t really the recording quality that matters. I mean, sure, we musicians all want our music to sound really dope. Yet, throughout the history of recorded music, there have been a great number of songs that told such great stories that listeners looked past the poor recording quality and loved them anyway.

Not like that’s gonna happen with Archive Volume Three! Let’s be realistic here!

Putting my bias aside, perhaps the story of these songs transcends the bad quality of the recordings... that sincerity about what is true, open, unembellished, and raw in life. Maybe the strangeness of my life filters through the music. Maybe the isolation I felt echoes around after a listen or two. Maybe there's something endearing about watching a train wreck happen in real time. I highly doubt it, though. I can only be certain that these songs are proof that I used to wear my entire heart on my sleeve, and damn, it was pretty heavy.

I could barely conceal my feelings from anyone during that time. I was in a dark place. These songs documented that time of my life almost too perfectly, and maybe that's why I was so embarrassed about them at first. I don’t mind sharing them now. I guess I have enough distance! It’s fun to look back and shudder at the dumbass I used to be, and I’m sure that when I’m 60, I’ll feel the same way about who I am now.

Spotify | Apple Music | Bandcamp | Amazon

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Spotify | Apple Music | Bandcamp | Amazon

Do you know a good deal when you see one?

I hope so. Because this sort of thing only comes around once in a very long time.

$4/Year $5/Year Forever —All Music Past, Present, and Future

Lock in a $4/year $5/year subscription (normally $14/year) to become a member of Fire, Fire, Red Star Down.

That’s a forever price. Like, $4 $5, every year, no matter what.

Includes

• members-only albums

• all records released (39 as of today)

• 30% off merch for as long as you’re a member

• any/all records in the pipeline not yet released, including some big surprises.

• bonus material on each record.

• locked-in price, forever.

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You’ll get access to all music, past, present, and future.

As long as you keep your membership alive, it’ll always be $4/year $5/year, forever. The price will never increase on you.

That’s one hellova deal.

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60% off Discography—All Music From The Past

Get the entire discography for $61 (Full Price: $152). Every album I’ve released, yours.

Includes

• all records released so far (39 as of today)

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Doesn’t include:

• members-only records.

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• the satisfaction of continually supporting a independent music-nerd in an outrageously sustainable way.

That’s also one hellova deal.

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Archive Volume Three album cover, by Grande Valley Auction Incident

Where did this terrible music come from?

I have a rule. Whenever I'm taking things too seriously, I need to poke fun at myself. And here's the way I'm gonna do that: The latest Grande Valley Auction Incident record, Archive Volume Three. This is a compilation of songs from my last year of graduate school, in 2003.

During that final semester. I felt all sorts of confused. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I was done with classical guitar as a potential creative path. Whatever interest I had in academia as a career evaporated. I wanted to get out of town, but I hadn’t graduated yet. I was lonely, misdirected, and totally weirded out by the world. It's little wonder these songs came out of me.

I recently found these songs hiding on a cassette tape in my closet. The discovery shocked me. It wasn't like Christmas morning. Unearthing them sent a shiver up and down my spine. I knew I was in for it, but I had no idea by how much.

I’ll tell you directly: Archive Volume Three contains laughably bad songs. The singing is terribly off. The recording quality is total shit. I captured them by pressing record on a vintage tape recorder and throwing a Hail Mary. The songs make me cringe, hard. Imagine if someone found and published your junior high diary. That level of cringe.

No matter what, we could all use a good laugh…

And yet, I’ve noticed more than a few burdensome external forces invading my thoughts. I sense a weight in the air. The world has weirded me out yet again. I feel completely in danger of taking life way too seriously. I can’t have that. Gotta lighten things up a little bit.

So, I offer these slow-core, lo-fi, piece of shit songs for your amusement. After I got over my initial shock of listening to them, I felt better. I hope you get a huge belly laugh out of them and feel better, too.

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Reading Notes

9 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended

Topics and Themes

Creating with just the basic tools; The right tool at the right time boosts output; the DFX Transverb and examples of it's starry nature; Creativity thrives with or without great tools

In the opening scene of It Might Get Loud, Jack White casually pounds two nails into two sides of a 2x4. Just a regular block of wood, about a foot long. He winds a guitar string between the nails and secures a pickup beneath the string. He connects the pickup to an amplifier, switches on a distortion pedal, and the audience is instantly met with a burst of loud guitar squeals. He grabs a guitar slide and plays a few notes. It’s absolute rock and roll, and it sounds awesome.

Then, he turns off the distortion pedal and says, “Who says you need to buy a guitar?”

Sometimes the creative impulse is far too strong to wait for the money to magically appear to buy a half-way decent tool to create with. Sometimes, you’ve got to take what you have and make it work. Sometimes, creativity needs to happen right the F now. Jack White's approach is completely valid; we don’t need the best possible tools around us to create something meaningful.

But man, oh man, I love those times when I get my hands on a tool that completely amplifies musical output. I had this experience for the first time in 8th grade when I was on a dangerous path to breaking my Dad's beloved stereo.

An Epic Journey Through the World of 4-Track Cassette Recorders

In junior high, I often found myself recording and re-recording my terrible guitar ideas on my Dad’s high-end cassette tape deck, imagining I was in a professional studio. I'm more than a bit certain that my Dad got annoyed with me for tinkering with his equipment, so, being the wise man that he was, he redirected my focus by getting me a Fostex XR-3 cassette recorder. It’s a good thing he did. I ended up using, abusing, and breaking that thing instead of his prized tape machine!

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Fostex XR-3

The XR-3 was a 4-track cassette recorder made by Fostex in the '90s. With its four tracks, the XR-3 allowed me to record multiple layers on a single blank cassette tape. This empowered a hyper-focus on recorded sound. I plugged my guitar directly into the input, and if I liked the result, I would double it or add another part. I picked up an SM-58 microphone at a garage sale and immediately began miking my amps. I recorded everything from white noise to thunderstorms, always on the lookout for interesting sounds. I would even take the dialogue from movies and splice it into my songs. Clearly, I had no sense of what the words "Intellectual Property" meant.

Obviously, my creative output exploded. I recorded hours upon hours of music. I still have the tapes tucked away in my studio closet. Just the thought of listening to them sends shivers down my spine. The XR-3 marked the first of many experiences where the right tool arrived at just the right time.

Discovering Ableton Live

In 2005, I had another moment: I was wise enough to purchase Ableton Live during its early development. Ableton Live is a Digital Audio Workstation (DAW), an audio recording program that runs on a computer. It opened up a world of possibilities for me. With it, I could record entire songs and visualize the tracks on my computer. I could easily compare sounds side by side, mix songs, and export them as MP3 files. I could share my music with anyone who had an email address and the misfortune to know me personally.

Again, I saw a massive bump in creative productivity.

The Magic of Audio Plugins

Not all of the moments where I found a new tool required payment. Some of these moments where I found a creativity-bingeworthy tool were serendipitous because I just didn’t have the money to shell out for a cool new toy. One of these moments was when I found a particular audio plugin I became really passionate about.

Before we get there, audio plugins are worth a definition.

What is an Audio Plugin?

An audio plugin is a piece of software that integrates with a Digital Audio Workstation (DAW) like Ableton Live. Audio plugins enhance the recorded tracks by adding various effects to the sound. These effects can range from reverb and delay to compression and EQ, as well as more unusual and esoteric effects. Today, anyone can download millions of audio plugins and plug them directly into just about any DAW.

One such plugin that had that perfect timing I've been talking about is the DFX Transverb. It was so well-received in my creative workflow in 2008 that as soon as I loaded it into Ableton Live, I knew I wouldn’t be leaving my computer for quite some time.

DFX Transverb

Stepping into the World of DFX Transverb

The DFX Transverb audio plugin was created by Sophia Poirier and Tom Murphy 7, and it’s describe by Tom 7 as…

a delay effect, but it can play back the delay buffer at different speeds. Think of it like a tape loop with two independently-moving read heads. There are lots of parameters to control and a parameter randomizer for the impatient.

If that means nothing to you, that’s okay. Think of it this way: The Transverb allows me to add the feeling of starlight to a song.

The Starlight Effect, With Examples

The Transverb gives everything I throw at it a twinkly quality, like I’m looking up at the stars on a perfectly clear night and every single star seems closer than usual. I have used this plugin on nearly every ambient release I’ve ever done. I love how it allows me to create a glistening shimmer effect without sounding like the stereotypical shimmer reverb.

For Natural Rhythm by Wicked Cities From A Distance, I frequently routed sounds from the Eurorack synthesizers to the Transverb. In this instance, my focus was on using the Transverb to make it feel as though the music were created while I was staring at the sky in the middle of a glacier. The plugin added an incredibly subtle sparkle to the song that it needed:

Another example comes from a different project called The Double Headed Seagulls. In the fourth song of Slimline, titled Skilligalee Chorus, you can distinctly hear reversed guitar sounds. If you listen closely, you’ll notice the Transverb crafting that “starlight” ambiance that I adore, up above:

My friend Jorge Martinez and I utilized the Transverb to great effect on Underwater Sunrise, a track from the album Alluvion. The song features a sequence of notes, repeated throughout. The plugin gave those notes an outwardly glistening yet intensely eerie quality. I thought it felt like climbing a mountain and looking down in a moment of sheer madness:

The Joy of Exploring New Tools in Music

As tools for digital music creation become more powerful, it behooves us to explore a little. I often don’t realize what I’m missing until I discover it. Each time I venture into exploring new tools, I find myself pleasantly surprised. Sometimes, the perfect tool appears just when I need it, and I can't stop making more music.

I want to be super clear: Jack White is 100% right. You don’t need to buy a guitar to make some noise and play rock and roll.

In my case, I don’t need to rely on the Transverb, Ableton Live, or even the Eurorack synthesizers to create music. I could grab a pot and a pan and make music by banging them together. I could sing loudly and to my heart's content, regardless of what my neighbors think. I could even write music with just a pencil and feel as happy as a clam.

However, it’s wonderful to have tools that genuinely amplify creativity, make time fly, and delight us with the results.

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Sounds like I owe DFX another donation. If you grab it and love it as much as I do, consider donating to DFX here.

Through fifteen-plus minutes of saturated ambient textures, Wicked Cities From A Distance disseminates a comprehensive and dynamically intense soundscape on "Lodern", a sprawling single replete with sustained distortions and drones of celestial frequencies. WCFAD is the work of USA-based musician Dave Wirth, and this impressive single is released by the Austin, Texas-label Fire, Fire, Red Star Down! It creates a warm environment for the listener, but not an unchallenging one, lightly pressing at the seams of its semiliquid constitution with colourful flourishes. 

Not many people can claim they traded a world-class opportunity for getting punched in the face.

I can.

That punch might've completely shredded my pride, but I came out ahead. Big time. And I'll get to that in a minute or two.

First things first, the road to that Mike Tyson moment needs a little airtime.

When I finished my masters degree in music, I was offered a spot in a very selective doctoral program in classical guitar. It was a number one music school. Best in the country. Had I enrolled and graduated from that university, I might've guaranteed myself a job in academia, teaching music. I'd have students auditioning to work with me!

As it stands, I turned down this opportunity. Something in me said no. I didn't know what that voice was. A hunch, an intuition, something. Of course, I also suffered a barrage of other, less helpful voices in my head shouting expletive-laden variations of, "You're being a fool! Don't walk away from this!"

Yet, I walked away. I knew I wanted a break from music. A really, really long break.

Completely on a whim, I packed my forest-green Saturn sedan with the essentials and moved to Austin, TX. When I arrived, I got a room in a house with a writer, a couple of slackers, and a guy who played in an especially god-awful emo band. All five of us were absolute slobs. I had a tiny room to myself which came with a twin sized bed. I had no idea why my bed was so scratchy and uncomfortable until later when I came to understand that cheaper sheets have really low thread counts.

Things were not great at that house. My roommates there were not happy people. Shouting, disagreeing. Lots of alcohol and drug use. The dishes piled up regularly. The trash looked like columns, and the columns were everywhere. One of my roommates, the guy who played in that terrible emo-band, punched me in the face over something stupid. It probably had to do with the cleanliness of the house. I watched my glasses shatter as they hit and then shimmied across the floor.

Yup, I gave up on a badass doctorate opportunity to get punched in the face.

I moved out immediately. I crashed on a friends couch in East Austin for a month. I scrounged up a gig literally cutting down trees and digging ditches.

I ate what I could afford. Ramen noodles. Spaghetti. A burger here and there if I had the money. Making matters worse, my beautiful forest-green sedan died. A friend took pity on me and gave me a bike. I was grateful at first. Later on, the handlebar on the bike gave out in the middle of a busy intersection. I smacked the pavement and skidded a foot. I wasn't terribly hurt. Just humbled. Very humbled.

I then had a string of dead-end jobs that ranged from totally innocuous to vaguely threatening. I waited tables. I shuffled and organized paper records at a nonprofit. I stuffed envelopes for a real estate entrepreneur. I checked bags for knives at the local homeless shelter in downtown Austin.

When I look back, more than anything else I remember the confusion I felt... That feeling of uncertainty that I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life.

When the inspiration for my direction in life finally came to me, I remembered the relief. I felt so at ease and peaceful. All the light around me turned golden and luminescent. It felt like a dream, where it was weirdly magical. I felt the first legit feeling of hope in two years.

Here's it was, right in front of me the whole time: I decided that I was going to teach guitar in my own private studio, hell or high water.

With whatever money I had, I found a small studio space in South Austin, set my guitars up, and built my solo teaching practice from scratch. I earned more money. I bettered my life. With help from unlikely friends and colleagues, I gradually pulled myself up from that terrible confusion I had sunk into.

I think about those first two years in Austin with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. Not mad blushes, mind you, but blushes nonetheless. I don't know that I could have done any better with the information I had. Clearly, I needed to go through it. Teaching undeniably made my life better. I got stronger as a human being, wiser (maybe!), more strategic, centered, and more inspired. I developed a cleverness that I still depend upon, wits that I need on occasion, and fast decision-making skills.

Overall, teaching gave me much more than I ever expected, or bargained for. Clearly, I did the right thing when I followed up on that dreamy experience.

In looking back at close to twenty years of teaching private guitar lessons, I feel compelled to share the most surprising things I’ve learned from the experience. These are things I definitely did not know before I started teaching:

• Students can learn anything if their hearts are in it.

• Analogies are irresistible fun. 80% of the time they work great.

• If there's no emotional connection between teacher and student in the beginning of each lesson, the lesson will feel rocky and weird. Reconnecting and talking after a time apart allows us to find common ground.

• Consistent and small amounts of practice each day creates a greater mastery than inconsistent, hyper-motivated sprints.

• The more I charged per hour, the better the clients. Not only that, but the pace of learning and commitment were stronger. Even better: The collaboration was 10X stronger.

• It doesn't matter if a student comes in late if I still get paid for the full hour. Hows that for a truth bomb?

• A student who keeps their agency and accepts responsibility to learn often gets way better results than a student who just listen and does, blindly. A student who figures something out on his/her own is way more motivated to learn. I dare say, more fun to work with overall.

• Collaborative learning is way more fun than authoritarian teaching.

• If I mess up, it's almost never as big a deal as I think it is. If a student messes up, it's almost never as big a deal as he or she thinks it is.

• Pretty much everything that goes wrong is probably not that big of a deal.

• 9 times out of 10, wrist pain or back pain on the part of the learner is caused by something other than playing their instrument.

• Trying to figure out how someone learns, and how I can teach a concept to many different people, forced a creativity and emotional resilience that I wouldn't have developed otherwise. Problems aren't really hard; Finding the right solution makes difficult problems disappear.

• When a student is done working with me, it's best to make it super clear that he/she owes me nothing.

• Hearing from old students, and getting an update on their life, is one of the greatest joys I've ever known.

• An easy to use and automated scheduling software is well-worth the investment.

• Watching people progress and change, right before my eyes, couldn't get more addictive.

• It's good to remind really serious students, the ones who practice hard, that it's okay to relax.

• The fun goes through-the-roof when both parties put their phones on airplane mode.

• Unless I ask a lot of questions, the core reason why someone wants to learn guitar will remain hidden. The more hidden that reason is to me, the less successful the collaboration.

• Consistently reminding students where they came from helps them remember how far they have progressed. It also keeps them from obsessing over how much they have to learn.

• Getting "good" at playing guitar is actually not that fun of an experience. Enjoying playing guitar is.

• Teaching, as a profession, is more about the teacher learning than it is about the student. There's no reason to go into education if you're not curious about yourself.

Not bad eh?

I guess all it took was a punch to the face.

Have you ever wondered how the most perfect music falls in your lap at just the right moment?

Kin Leonn, a UK-based ambient and electronic music producer, and his music smoothly nestled themselves into my headphones this summer. I needed it, too.

I learned of Leonn from his work on the film The Breaking Ice. The movie follows three adults in their early 20's, living in contemporary northern China. Each character forms a deeper friendship with the others, while simultaneously, all of them work through their past traumas. It's billed as a bittersweet romantic drama, and it delivers.

The Breaking Ice forced itself onto my list of movies that I will watch twice. It has a solidity to it that I appreciate from good, independent movies. Besides, all I needed was to hear just a few seconds of Kin Leonn's musical score to know that this movie would slay.

I've since come to admire Kin Leonn’s work on a much deeper level. He has a way of creating music that surprises me, pushes me, and haunts my edge every time. I believe that his music effortlessly incorporates a wide and surprising degree of contrasts.

There are several techniques he uses to create this contrast in his music. And, I might do a deep-dive on that in the future. For now, I want to go deeper on how Leonn’s deliberate use of contrast in his music influenced the process I had on Lodern, the most recent release from Wicked Cities From A Distance. I also want to talk a little shop about Eurorack synthesizers.

Boring Synth Pads

In the past, I created a lot of ambient pads and soundscapes, droning out for dozens of minutes. The trouble appears when ambient music dangerously veers towards sameness, and slaps the listener with boredom. Drones can feel a little dumb, repetitive, numbing, and perhaps overdone.

This was why I felt so relieved to hear Kin Leonn’s work. It forced me to realize how important it is to think about variety, to insert some conflict inside of a song. Nothing wrong with having a little fight in you.

Discovering Leonn’s work compelled a deeper awareness of composing music that surprises and delights. I definitely attempted that with Lodern.

Creating Variety With Just Two Notes

Lodern has two notes: A root and a major third. It started as a simple drone piece. But this focus on contrast haunted me:

How on earth do I make a 15 minute long song interesting when it's just two notes, total?

To answer this, I need to nerd out about modular synthesizers. Fans of Eurorack are gonna love this part.

Granular Synthesis via Morphagene and Nebulae

The bulk of Lodern was created from two Eurorack modules, the Make Noise Morphagene and the Qu-Bit Nebulae. Both of these modules accept recorded audio and turn it into loops. Then, they can mangle those loops in so many wonderful ways. John Lennon would have flipped his wig had he had access to these two modules!

On the Morphagene, I had a piano loop running backwards. Using control voltage, I was able to change where the sound played inside of the loop (SLIDE on the Morphagene). Further, I CV’d (short for control voltage) the size of the loop (GENE SIZE), and I also CV’d the MORPH knob on the Morphagene. This formed a dynamic loop, one that changes, a lot.

The output of the Morphagene took flight after getting patched into a Hologram Microcosm with the MIX all the way up. I fiddled a lot with the Microcosm during the recording (TIME, ACTIVITY, and REPEATS). This part sounds pretty mellow just on it’s own:

Make Noise Morphagene

On the Nebulae, using a similar piano recording but played in mono, I found a single section of the loop that I liked and froze it by turning the SIZE knob all the way down while keeping the START knob static. From there, I used my fingers to manually adjust the DENSITY, BLEND, PITCH, and OVERLAP controls.

The output of the Nebulae took on a very intense sound after I violently shoved it into a distortion pedal by DOD called the Gunslinger (Shoutout to Jerry Daniels for the pedal). This noisy loop dominates the dead center of the stereo field throughout the piece. During the mixing stage, I paired it with an EastWest Spaces reverb, a pretty slick convolution reverb, just to give it a little more breath:

Qu-Bit Nebulae

These ideas were patched through to three separate tracks on my iD44 interface, and then captured in one take… One big, long, 15 minute take.

Adding Thickening Agents

I needed something to anchor the droney loops, something I could stand on with some certainty. I plugged a triangle wave output from the Pittsburgh Modular SV-1b into the filter section of the same module. I then took the lowpass filter out to the mixer. In one take, I opened the filter to get more volume when the song needed it:

Pittsburgh Modular SV-1b

Finally, I loaded up an ensemble string patch from EastWest's Hollywood Strings 2. I voiced a simple chord and mercilessly programmed it to repeat endlessly. If you've worked with orchestral samples, you know that the "sustained" sounds make interesting drones. Why? Players gotta stop at some point! The post production audio engineers who work on these sample libraries are often tasked with looping the end and beginning of a patch to create a sustained sound:

Aquiring More Contrast and Conflict

As I mentioned before, I do love long stretches of sound. But, drones need contrast to whack the livin’ hell out of a listener. I had to find places where sound could jostle things out of the ordinary.

A very good friend of mine Eddy Hobizal, who’s music you ought to check out, graciously allowed me to borrow his Fender Rhodes. I was able to plug that bad boy straight into the Hologram Microcosm. Without too much fussing about, I could play all sorts of chords and the Microcosm would throw everything back to me in a nice, twinkling way. An exemplar contrast to the lower foundational harmony.

Finally, I added some nature sounds. Why the hell not? Ambient musicians love nature sounds. Classic. Like a duck to water. Ha!

The entire session looks like this in Ableton Live:

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Lodern in Ableton Live 12

Lodern in it's Entirety

Overall, I tried to make the elements of Lodern subtly contradict the next. I wanted each solitary minute to sound a tiny bit different than the previous. Sometimes the keyboard sounds would drift casually into the background, or lift up in the higher registers, or tinker with different harmony. Sometimes, the stereo field would hinge from balanced to dangerously out-of-phase. Sometimes, the thickening agents would just wreak a fever pitch of intensity.

I didn’t know what direction this music could take when I first started working on it.

My August this year (2024) held a plenitude of change. For one, I bought a new car. Having AC felt incredible as I had been without for about 7 years. I could actually drive places without having to bathe in my own sweat. I kept on getting the nudge to write and I began doing it. I decided to get new photos taken for my sites. And, Autumn felt closer than ever.

And once that change started happening, it manifested itself into Lodern. I ended up composing in that in-between place where I hadn't yet changed into something new.

I knew I had to pivot from old Dave to new Dave, as it happens from time-to-time. Lodern is music of that transformation, but specifically the space in-between, that liminal space, where we haven't yet figured out what's going on. Where we haven’t really finished the metamorphosis. That space has intensity. A good friend of mine said it's like taking a Polaroid and having to wait to see the picture clearly, later.

All I gotta say now? My-oh-my, thank god it's fall in Austin. That's a polaroid I've definitely been pining for.

Lodern cover art, by Wicked Cities From A Distance

The old kicks the bucket. The new catapaults itself into being. An everlasting cycle. Rinse and repeat. Ever changing and always occuring. Life, death, restated.

The gap between death and rebirth is known as the liminal space. This space occupies a poetic place in storytelling. Imagine a limbo place where twilight, awkwardness, and risk form the lay of the land. A bardo that underscores the contrast between the old and the new. An initiation that compels a clear look at the past as well as energizing the will to jump bravely into the future.

Everyone enters the liminal space. It happens over and over again. All of us come back renewed afterwords. It's a rite of purification. Problems consumed by that inferno never return with as much power as they once had. We move on, relieved yet vaugely aware that this dance will happen many, many more times in our lives.

Lodern (coming from the old German verb “to blaze”) by Wicked Cities From A Distance, is music of that transformation.

Lodern displays an astonishing magnitude of variety, contrast, rhythm, and thickness without modifying the fundamental harmony. At moments, there dwells a deeply-embedded chaos. One sound burning itself up only to get replaced with something new. A death of the old and the sprouting of the new.

Like the liminal space, Lodern holds contrast. A narrow mono signal contrasting with a wide stereo relief. Long-held drones contrasting with a spirited loop run through a distortion pedal. A triangle wave fundamental contrasting with a pitch-shifted Fender Rhodes. Time-based storytelling that plays with the richness of timbre.

Lodern invites a listener to stir the pot. It encourages full participation, staring with a clear consciousness at the coming transformation in this world, eyes-wide-the-fuck-open.

Inspired by the relentless change in the modern era, Lodern invites you to suspend time, enter the liminal space, and exit a little wiser.

Just like everyone else, there was a part of my life where I focused on the wrong things.

When I was a lot younger, I put all my focus into “being the best guitarist, ever.” I had this ideal of what the perfect guitarist would look like. I loved the thought of being acknowledged as this total badass on guitar. I romanticized the adulation I would receive on stage. I loved thinking about the attention I would get from the opposite sex. In every possible way, I wanted to be that perfect guitarist. I measured myself against him constantly. As you might've guessed, it didn't make me happy.

My life thankfully took a different turn. Now that I look back on it, I can’t help but wonder: What would've happened if I kept this target of being the best guitarist ever? What would my life look like?

For one, I probably would have 10X the technical ability on the guitar than I do now. I’d seriously blow the guitar up every time I played it.

I would have firmed a reputation as a touring musician. I probably would have recorded in quite a few amazing recording studios. I would have spent many more lonely hours in bars.

I also imagine my LinkedIn profile might've looked cluttered with groups that I had played in. I would have a colossal social-media following. I'd probably possess many more connections within the music industry. Perhaps I would have cultivated a reputation as this immense rock/metal guitar icon. Who knows?!?

I have no regrets about the path I took. I focused on film composing, on building a good home life, and I concentrated heavily on balance in all parts of my life. I'm pleased to say that I'm remarkably happy and progressing further towards all these ends.

After all, I believe that what I focus on is what I will become known for. The good, the bad, or the meaningless. Focus on the good stuff, I'll become known for it. Focus on the bad stuff, I'll become known for it. Focus on the meaningless stuff, and I'll get remembered as meaningless (if at all).

Now, my focus remains on the things I wish to cultivate. Values like balance, creativity, presence, kindness, and security. I'm very cool with getting remembered for any one of those!

Likewise, I ruthlessly expunge anything that I don't want to become known for. I refuse to hold court with optional sadness, arbitrary anger, or voluntary bitterness. Don't get me wrong. I feel my feelings which at times challenge me, but I never create stories about them. I guess I don't want the people I love to remember me as a man who carried shitty narratives.

This also affects how I develop my career. Every time a well-meaning friend tells me I should get better at social media to make it in the film industry, I ask myself, "am I willing to become known for that?"

I don’t want to become known for putting out YouTube videos every day about film composing, no matter the promise of more exposure. Knowing me, I’ll have less energy to reach out to potential directors, let alone give them my unbroken attention. Besides, it's not guaranteed to get me more gigs.

I don't want to be known as an Instagram influencer who continually is on the phone, even during Thanksgiving dinner. I think that couldn’t get more rude. Besides, it's not guaranteed to get me more gigs.

Further, I don't want to be known for working with the wrong people because I think it will lead to success. Narcissists, takers, and opportunity exploiters... all of these people just want me to do something for them. Besides, it's not guaranteed to get me more gigs.

Simply, I won't do anything that I don’t want to become known for.

Coming back to my example earlier, had I continued to focus on being the best guitarist ever, I would no doubt have become the best guitarist ever (at least in my mind!!!).

At the same time, I might have missed all the pleasure I have creating ambient music with modular synthesizers. I might have missed the joy of creating an orchestration for a scene that works perfectly with the performance. I might have missed all the wonderful chats I have with directors who just want to know the best way to get their film's music done. I might have overlooked the joys of a clean life, of settling down in a good home, of interacting with a close-knit, like-minded community.

I focus on giving my undivided presence to those I think deserve it. I bet I'll be remembered as a guy who put down his phone when he was in conversation and gave his attention thoroughly and generously.

I focus on creating music with a cutthroat ferocity to shut out external demands. I bet someday the film and music industry will view me as a guy who cared about doing his best work.

I focus on being a good friend. I hope my friends will remember that, once I'm gone. They may not! I don't know! That's certainly the hope.

I won't budge. I'll never go back.

I only focus on what I am willing to become known for.

I’ve heard some people totally shit on goal-setting. Maybe that word sounds too sporting. Maybe others prefer not to put pressure on themselves to accomplish things. Maybe a fear lingers that they’ll fail. Maybe others just hate the SMART goal acronym and wish it would die already. Or weirdly, maybe goals “aren’t difficult enough.”

Yet, throwing out goal-setting altogether leaves room for an even tougher devil to take up space:

Ideals.

What is an ideal? To me, it’s a far off version of perfection.*

Years ago, I threw out goal-setting because I felt depressed about not achieving the goals I created. But almost immediately, ideals invaded and proliferated in me. I often thought, “if only I could be like (insert name of famous musician) then I would have it all together.” Comparisons festered, and comparisons are indeed a thief of joy.

As I languished in not living up to whatever ideal I was comparing myself to, I also felt completely depressed. True, there was a lot of progress in a lot of ways. I saw forward movement. Yet I still felt haunted by the sense that I couldn’t reach that plateau.

Ideals vs Goals

I stayed attached to ideals until I began to consider the differences between ideal and goals. What I figured out totally surprised me:

1. Ideals lend themselves well to obsession, and obsession leaves no room for allowing the energy of inspiration. Putting work into achieving well-defined goals allows me to gauge progress, feel momentum, and it primes the pump for inspiration.

2. Reaching an ideal can never happen because ideals love to change. Reaching a goal means I get the satisfaction of reaching it, and then choosing a new goal.

3. Ideals resist definition. Goals love specificity.

4. Ideals tend to grow exponentially, no matter the progress made towards them (a true rat race). Goals stay the same size as when I consciously chose them.

5. Ideals resist measurement. Goals thrive on it.

6. Ideals constantly shift and move around. Goals stay put (with a little bit of effort).

7. Reaching an ideal means nothing because I don’t ever notice reaching it. Reaching a goal means a whole lot more because I will celebrate the completion of that goal. I more clearly reach a goal than I do an ideal.

8. Ideals need a low-self worth to thrive. Goals need sustained engagement and a little love to survive.

9. Ideals seem indistinct and fuzzy. Goals love to exist in a concrete, crisp, clear, and transparent way.

10. Ideals require me to measure myself relentlessly to other people, especially if I look up to them. Goals force me to get pragmatic about growth, to get smart about how progress gets measured.

11. Ideals force me to measure progress forwards, to see exactly how far I am away from achieving them. Goals allow me the opportunity to measure progress backwards, from where I started, and focus on the gains.

12. Ideals suck focus away from my mental life due to their chatty and cluttered nature. Goals are simple, clear, and I let go of them after I reach them.

13. Ideals breed depression. Goals breed momentum and lightness.

14. Ideals punish me regardless of whether I chase them or not. Goals don’t mind getting put away for a little while, especially if I only notice the progress I make towards achieving them.

15. Ideals have only one timestamp: ASAP. Goals can easily survive an openness and freedom of time.

16. Ideals force me to concoct how to get there. Goals (without a time-stamp) allow enough room for me to use inspiration to find the strongest way to achieve them.

17. Ideals never give me a moments rest. Whatever I do, I’ll never live up to them. Goals allow me far more peace, especially if I see progress.

18. Ideals cause anxiety. Goals can create repose and happiness if done correctly and with inspiration.

19. Ideals get implanted as a result of unconscious programming. Goals are chosen consciously, and (hopefully) with immense care.

So now? I’ve thrown out all my ideals. I set goals. This time, I said, “No timestamps. I’m patient. I can still get it done even if it’s not today.” I measure the progress backwards. Much, much simpler. Lighter.

I notice more and more relief flood my body when I work. I no longer feel stressed while I work. I can also feel rested and comfortable on my days off. I can let go of work with much more ease.

And overall, I see a lot more forward movement. I feel much happier. I feel like my goals are much closer to getting accomplished, too.

And holy shit I’ve got tons of things I gotta do with this life.

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*Ideals and/or goals have nothing to do with one's values, ethics, anything else. It is simply a mental construct of the “perfect” you living the “perfect” life with the “perfect” this/that/the other thing.

Whenever anyone says that they don’t mind the heat in Austin Texas, they never say it during August.

The heat makes things feel a little... cwazy. My sycamore tree gasps for breath in a very yellow-leafed way. The lizards scoot over the pavement like mini hovercrafts. Ants hide in the relative shade of the grass. Cats never bask in the sun. Dogs don’t get walked until the day is done.

To make matters comical, the AC in my car died. I have a 7 mile radius I can drive, unless I decide to get out in the early mornings. Getting lunch? Gotta deliberate on that one. Have a date with a special someone? Might want to rent a car for that. My Mom and I have had pretty epic conversations about getting a new car. I gotta admit, I feel tempted.

To make summers shorter, I pick projects that take a little while to get done. An album, a film score, something. This time, I decided to do something a bit different, and epically satisfying on a creative level.

I decided to completely categorize all of my old voice notes, sketches, and musical ideas so I could search by mood and project. I wanted to have a plethora of melodic ideas ready to go, at a moment’s notice.

For example, on February 19th, 2020, I created an orchestral sketch entitled, “P17 - Doubling For Power” (see screenshot below). Doubling for Power is a orchestral technique taken from George Frederick McKay and his epically good Creative Orchestration.. Be sure to get the workbook for Creative Orchestration, too. It’s great for learning how to orchestra.

I wanted to categorize Doubling For Power with moods [see screenshot]. I wanted to make sure I knew it was something I could use for film soundtracks. And I also wanted to write down who it reminded me of, like composers and artists. Finally, I wanted to be able to pull this up on different devices to audition the idea.

And here comes the drama: Whereas before I had no idea this sketch even existed, now if a director came to me and asked for something epic, powerful, rhythmic, and dramatic, then I can search for the moods and audition this piece for the director immediately.

Not all the sketches I had were orchestral ones. Many involved synthesizers. More than 800 of them of them are me singing into my voice notes app and saving them. Sometimes, this happened in the middle of the night. I’ve found these to be great starting points for new films.

When I started on June 30th, I had just around 2,100 or so sketches to catalog. And it was a huge mess. I looked at the sheer amount of them and got a headache thinking about having to search them. How to find just the right idea.

That led me to the next idea: Why not create a database of sketches? Luckily, I found an incredible app called Collections. And, I totally recommend it. It has made the cataloging process so much easier.

It’s now the middle of August, and this morning I completed quite a few sketches and records. I can already think a little clearer. And boy was it ever fun to find old, crazy sketches (I found an early demo of this song, too)