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.

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.

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)