Thursday, January 3, 2008

4 Dec 2007, #2a: "Nova Scotia" - 6m06s

This was my first real attempt. I began by outlining a G major chord, found a rhythmic ostinato, and slowly added notes in the scale. I then began changing the harmony from IV to I a few times, then to V, and back to I. The only notes outside of the mode are a few F naturals in the bass line. Eventually I found a scrap of the ostinato to focus on and embellish with some Lydian noodling, and it became IV and V of D; I ended it suddenly.




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Recorded on December 4th, 2007, at Peace Church of the Brethren, in Portland, OR, with a Zoom H4 Digital Recorder. Edited with Audacity music software.

5 comments:

Twin Lauren said...

I preface this with the warning that I am not well-trained in music at all, and am even less up to date on the jargon. Take that as you will.

This reminded me so strongly of Portland in March. I mean that in a particularly natural way, rather than, say, in a social or Reed way.

Karen said...

I'm most striken by the three-dimensionality of this piece. I'm sitting in front of my work computer doing repetitive work all morning and noticing that my feet have been tapping neurotically and frenetically, the kind of nervous energy that I feel like I really should try to control but usually can't. Your first post made me eager to go on to the next before writing the comment that was already in my head, so I hit play and switched back to the boring document translation I'm revising, expecting to work while I listen.

WHOOSH. It was probably 3 or 4 minutes in before I realized that I was having what I guess people call an out-of-body experience, even though I'm kind of puking at the cliché. I'd been so surrounded on all sides by the music, felt like it was the x and y and z axes of my body, and suddenly realized that I hadn't moved an inch since the piece started. If I thought about it, I could feel my hand on the mouse, my chin in my other palm with my fingers thoughtlessly pinching my lower lip, feet crossed and perfectly still. But my brain was a swirl of feeling, totally swimming in the richness of sound. I guess it was probably the repetitive ostinato that took me away, but the swirl on top of it is what felt completely enveloping.

Unfortunately as soon as I became aware of it, it was only a matter of 30 seconds or so before I absolutely had to move my joints. I was sad when the piece was over, though, and also felt like if anyone were to walk into my office and interrupt my listening experience, it would be like someone waking me up from a really fabulous dream.

Karen said...

Listening again: I really appreciate the way you start out slow, kind of meet us where we are and escort us into the piece.

Anonymous said...

Dear Chris -

I have decided to use your blog as an incentive to get - and a springboard for getting - back to teaching myself the basics of music theory. To keep myself amused, I have decided to keep my notes informal, giving me the pleasure of learning about "Lydian noodling" and such.

Cheers,
and thanks again,
A.

mch said...

Oh dear, what pressure! Well, if you have any theory questions pertaining to my improvs (or not), I'd be happy to answer them best I can. I've never been totally sure how much to write about each one on the blog, thinking that most people don't want to read about modes and time signatures, but maybe I should be MORE thorough.

Chris

P.S. "Lydian noodling" is a real term, first coined by Schoenberg in 1903 in his review of Debussy's Prelude no. 18, "Eiffel Tower is Falling Down, Falling Down, Falling Down.