Making Things Up
Liner Notes
“Making things up.” It's essentially what all artists do, whatever medium they work in, no matter how lofty their ambitions. We all take something from real life – a low branch brushing the waves of a rolling river, new love, even the Arab Spring – and somehow alter it to our purposes. We juxtapose these images, find parallels in history, imagine new worlds in which these scenarios can play out, divorced from the social and political baggage they have acquired from being all too real. We make things up so we can better understand the world around us. We make things up to entertain one another with false bravado and larger-than-life tragedies. We make things up out of the vainglorious hope that one day, the real world might more closely reflect the one we've been crafting
in our dreams all our lives. And we make things up for fun – for the sheer joy of creating.
The songs on this record fall mostly into that last category. I occasionally get a
little political, a little melancholy, a little strange. But ultimately, I composed these songs as a way to pass the time, to entertain myself and my friends, to see if they would work. Some did work, some were left out. What you have here are the ones I wanted to share, the ones I felt you would get the biggest kick from.
Variations on The Merrimac: This is the oldest work on the album, an extremely short theme and seven variations, each one exploring a different church mode. The church modes, I should probably attempt to explain, are a set of eight scales, each with a unique set of properties. While they all are built of the same “white-notes” of the piano keyboard, they have different
ranges and final notes, giving each a different flavour. The modal system predates our modern set of major and minor keys, though it can sound quite modern due to the rarity with which it is utilized. I decided to split up the variations, using them as bookends for the other tracks, in order to create a larger sense of unity throughout the album.
Elevator Music is essentially one long guitar solo, interrupted by another guitar solo. Now is probably as good a time as any
to mention that I play all the instruments on this album, with a few exceptions: the drums and horns are not “played”in any traditional sense, but are rather MIDI realizations of the notes I typed into the computer. In other words, I wrote out the drum and brass parts, and the computer played them.
Lonesome Fashion: I challenged a friend of mine to write a song using the words “pernicious,” “alimony,”and “library card.”
Almost immediately after issuing the challenge, I got the idea for this song. Sadly, I must admit defeat at my inability to work the library card into the fabric of the song.
It's Okay To Admit That You Don't Love Freedom. No, really. It is. I understand. There's no shame in it. All I ask is that you
own it, confess your fear of letting Others enjoy their independence. I'll try to do the same.
Circumvolution: The word is a portmanteau, meaning to talk in circles. Something about 5/4 time always puts me in mind of a spinning wheel, of endless motion. There's an unsettled, unsettling element to the meter, making it exhilarating.
The Apricot Tree: Many thanks to Catherine “Mandikat” Duthie for providing the voice of the barefoot blond on this song.
Ballads in d minor may be about the last thing any respectable Master of Music should be writing, but I never said got the degree to be respectable.
Something To Believe In: I've long believed that the best political/protest music is the type that doesn't give you blunt force trauma, or at least gives you a really good guitar solo as some small measure of compensation. I hope this song is a success by at least one of these measures.
Subduction: noun; the act of making something more subdued. I rarely write anything so minimal and trance-like, which is a shame because this is undoubtedly the strongest piece on the album.
Many thanks go the following people: Alicia for the Opaque Strategies and endless encouragement, Mandikat for the art
lessons, the encouragement, and for singing, my professors (especially Rutschman, Sherman, Sommer, Wegren, and Rubin) for filling my head with knowledge (I promise to make good use of it one of these days), the wonderful people of Bellingham (city of subdued excitement), the equally wonderful people of Duluth (city of overstated indifference), and friends and relatives both near and scattered.
The bulk of recording was done in Wells, MN. “Subduction” recorded in Bellingham, WA, as were parts of “It's Okay to
Admit That You Don't Love Freedom.” Basic tracks for “The Apricot Tree” recorded in Ames, IA, with accordion and second guitar added later in Wells. Mixing and mastering, to the extent either was done to any appreciable degree, was done in Wells as well.
in our dreams all our lives. And we make things up for fun – for the sheer joy of creating.
The songs on this record fall mostly into that last category. I occasionally get a
little political, a little melancholy, a little strange. But ultimately, I composed these songs as a way to pass the time, to entertain myself and my friends, to see if they would work. Some did work, some were left out. What you have here are the ones I wanted to share, the ones I felt you would get the biggest kick from.
Variations on The Merrimac: This is the oldest work on the album, an extremely short theme and seven variations, each one exploring a different church mode. The church modes, I should probably attempt to explain, are a set of eight scales, each with a unique set of properties. While they all are built of the same “white-notes” of the piano keyboard, they have different
ranges and final notes, giving each a different flavour. The modal system predates our modern set of major and minor keys, though it can sound quite modern due to the rarity with which it is utilized. I decided to split up the variations, using them as bookends for the other tracks, in order to create a larger sense of unity throughout the album.
Elevator Music is essentially one long guitar solo, interrupted by another guitar solo. Now is probably as good a time as any
to mention that I play all the instruments on this album, with a few exceptions: the drums and horns are not “played”in any traditional sense, but are rather MIDI realizations of the notes I typed into the computer. In other words, I wrote out the drum and brass parts, and the computer played them.
Lonesome Fashion: I challenged a friend of mine to write a song using the words “pernicious,” “alimony,”and “library card.”
Almost immediately after issuing the challenge, I got the idea for this song. Sadly, I must admit defeat at my inability to work the library card into the fabric of the song.
It's Okay To Admit That You Don't Love Freedom. No, really. It is. I understand. There's no shame in it. All I ask is that you
own it, confess your fear of letting Others enjoy their independence. I'll try to do the same.
Circumvolution: The word is a portmanteau, meaning to talk in circles. Something about 5/4 time always puts me in mind of a spinning wheel, of endless motion. There's an unsettled, unsettling element to the meter, making it exhilarating.
The Apricot Tree: Many thanks to Catherine “Mandikat” Duthie for providing the voice of the barefoot blond on this song.
Ballads in d minor may be about the last thing any respectable Master of Music should be writing, but I never said got the degree to be respectable.
Something To Believe In: I've long believed that the best political/protest music is the type that doesn't give you blunt force trauma, or at least gives you a really good guitar solo as some small measure of compensation. I hope this song is a success by at least one of these measures.
Subduction: noun; the act of making something more subdued. I rarely write anything so minimal and trance-like, which is a shame because this is undoubtedly the strongest piece on the album.
Many thanks go the following people: Alicia for the Opaque Strategies and endless encouragement, Mandikat for the art
lessons, the encouragement, and for singing, my professors (especially Rutschman, Sherman, Sommer, Wegren, and Rubin) for filling my head with knowledge (I promise to make good use of it one of these days), the wonderful people of Bellingham (city of subdued excitement), the equally wonderful people of Duluth (city of overstated indifference), and friends and relatives both near and scattered.
The bulk of recording was done in Wells, MN. “Subduction” recorded in Bellingham, WA, as were parts of “It's Okay to
Admit That You Don't Love Freedom.” Basic tracks for “The Apricot Tree” recorded in Ames, IA, with accordion and second guitar added later in Wells. Mixing and mastering, to the extent either was done to any appreciable degree, was done in Wells as well.