Ode to Pablo

Yesterday, I experienced one of the most gratifying experiences of my life.

I was sitting in my brothers room and noticed he had an acoustic guitar leaning against his wall. This guitar is in rough shape: it's missing a string, it goes out of tune easily, it's hard to play and is generally the butt-end of a lot of instrument jokes in that house (they've been contemplating selling it for probably three years by now).

So, like most instruments I see, I picked it up and began to tinker with it. The guitar was sorely out of tune. I actually can't imagine a guitar going that out of tune naturally on it's own. So for the first time in my life I attempted to tune it on my own without the assistance of an electronic tuner.

Doing this is somewhat a tricky task even for experienced ears. Most often you begin with the A string (the second-lowest string before hitting the low E), mainly because it is least likely to go out of tune on a guitar. Didn't matter much anyway, it sounded tuned up to almost a C. This is where the gratifying part began.

Years ago, we used to play a game where there would be one person striking a chord, and two others blindly guessing what it could be. The easy part about this game is that chords are normally strummed downwards and you can assimilate certain chords from others by how they "ring-out", meaning that most guitarists know what the high E and B strings sound like when played together, so if you hear those two played you can assume the chord struck was in the range of E,A or B. This can be easily heard on guitars - unlike pianos which resonate more as tones rather than the plucking of strings. However, you can't tune a guitar by strumming a chord (actually you can it's just very, very hard to do). So you have to begin with single strings.

Beginning with the A string, I tried to hear an A chord in my head. I always thought the easiest way to do this was to just recall a song that opens with an A chord (a million songs do, pick your own). Then, it may sound odd, but you have to tune it to your memory by playing the note over and over in your head until the sound you visualize matches the sound you actually hear. From here you tune the remaining strings in relation to where they are from the A using a series of harmonics and simple methods. I tuned the entire guitar, save for the missing string.

After playing for a little bit, I asked my brother to look up an online guitar tuner for me (he was at his computer). These sites don't tune your guitar, but rather play simulated tones that you tune your guitar to. He played me the E note from the computer and I strummed the E string on the guitar. I was off by a half step (imagine the distance between a black key and a white key on a piano). This is actually my favorite part of the story.

I was so close to tuning the guitar to the exact notes, but I didn't. I love that. I remember a time in my life when I'd pick up a guitar without any knowledge of anything musical, play a fake chord, and scream Creed lyrics to make my friends laugh. Now I can practically tune one by ear. If I had tuned it perfectly I wouldn't feel the same excitement as I do now, because I know I've
made progress but not quite enough.

Cellist Pablo Casals was well into his 90's when once asked by an interviewer why he practiced, even at that age, for hours a day.

He said "I'm beginning to notice some improvement"

there goes another one

A very, very long time ago I swore to myself that I'd one day learn to play Fleetwood Mac's Never Going Back Again on guitar. There was just something about the song that made me want to know how it's done.

I really didn't know how to play guitar back then. Like, at all. I just remember talking a lot of shit on how I was going to learn that song and blow everyone away, like how people learn one song on piano just to impress their friends when they see one in their living room. But again, I didn't know anything about guitar. I didn't know how to read tablature, what a capo was, and how to tune an instrument any other way.

Now I'm not saying by any means that I'm a pro player today. SO far from it. It's more of a hobby than anything. I'll usually have two guitars in my house at most times that are kept in different tunings, just for fun.
The interesting thing (and yes there is one) is that skills advance over time without even realizing it. Almost how a runner will add a mile to a run without recognizing they'd done it.

Today, I'm sick and bedridden.
I was listening to FM's Rumours and decided to take a solid attempt at learning the song. I simply looked up a cover on some guy playing it on YouTube, figured out the tuning (CGDGBE, so awesome) and figured it out from there. It only took me about 10 minutes to get the patterns right(ish) and it was done. Signed it off the list.

Now, keep in mind that my version is hella-sloppy and I could have practiced for a week until it was pristine, but I was so excited to learn that I had to tell everyone.

Here it goes.

tree trunk progression

Last night I hosted a band meeting; one that I've wanted to do for some time now.
We're coming into our last leg of recording. Our producer, Mike Tompkins, is currently enjoying some much-needed rest in Mexico with his wife. Upon his arrival in less than a week, we'll be hitting the recording studio again for the final recording sessions on this album.

This fact scares the shit out of me.

Being a musician, and having been one for many years now, you begin to take very special care of how your music takes shape. Just as a parent would make sure their child was guided through all the proper steps, given the proper attention, and sent off into the world proudly, musicians are equally enamored with making music that properly represents their passion and vision for their music.

This fact excites the hell out of me.

Firstly, I'm no song writer. Never have been and never will be. I am far too critical of anything I write that even touches poetry, I have no gift for melody, and if I were to finish a song I would hate releasing it because I'd hate to hear people analyze it. So with this aside, I'll touch upon my true passion: the rest of it. The day I picked up a guitar I knew that the instrument alone would never be enough. When I sat on my bed strumming my first chords, I heard possibility. It was like a canal had just been built in my brain that had the ability to channel all of my creativity, vision, and passion. It was only when I picked up drums years later that things were coming full circle - I learned what rhythm was. Fundamentally, knowing these two aspects of music (melody and timing) opened up a valley of creative potential.

This fact brought on curiosity.

Yet, like anything, practice is necessary.
When I listen back to the first album Danny and I ever recorded, Fly Away, it sounds exactly like what it was: two teenage boys sitting in a room discovering a range of instruments, one at a time. If we were to re-work those songs now they would be infinitely different from their original sound. Yet this is the very thing that makes this progression special. I'm sure that if you were to look at the progressive career of a musician in terms of growth, it would look very similar to a tree trunk cross-section; some years were more progressive than others, yet it continues to grow and expand exponentially.

This fact influenced progress.

Now, staring down yet another album, we have more experience, more fantastically talented members, more songs, and more opportunity. Yes, we have all these things, but what do we do with them? Get to fucking work is what we do.

The entire purpose of the meeting I previously mentioned was to take a somewhat different approach to the recording process this time around. As was the case with the previous record, I would say that most of the songs were executed with a "face value" approach. By this I mean that we knew how to play these songs, and we played them just as they were (with maybe the exception of 2 songs). There's nothing wrong with that in actuality; the record turned out nicely. However, due to time restraints we weren't fully able to explore the songs sonically.

This fact makes my skin crawl.

I mentioned yesterday to the band that I was interested in over-recording this album. (p.s. drummers should never hold band meetings). By over-recording I mean that we should really strive for the "no-idea-is-a-bad-idea" approach. Instrumental tracks can be discarded as easily as they are recorded. What I am interested more in is what sounds can transpire from experimentation, because if you think about it, most great pop songs have one strange sonic aspect to them; something that differentiates it from the guitar/bass/drums formula.
I also mentioned that we should bring every instrument we own to the recording sessions. I believe that having extensive opportunities in front of you is far more advantageous to your practice than none at all (I've been trying to put an analogy here for an hour, but couldn't think of anything worthy of comparing).

Another thing I'm interested in, personally, is what to do with silence, if anything. Last night we were all sitting together around the old modern campfire (Danny's mac) listening to rough mix-downs of the record. During certain moments there would be dead silence in the middle of a song that would suit the track just perfectly. Other times we'd sit and think that silence wasn't even an option.
And that's just what do to with the silent parts. Think about how we are going to execute everything else. Thankfully (not luckily), our producer is exceedingly talented at what he does. The quality of the demos (not actual recordings) that he has given us so far almost surpass the quality of the last record already, and they haven't even been manipulated/balance/compressed electronically yet. His talent has obviously been recognized and he deserves every bit of it, so there are obviously things that are completely dependent on mixing that we just have to leave in his hands, which are made of gold, by the way.

This part will be continued...

The Find

Sometimes I just don't believe in things. More specific, I believe things will never happen. One of the great personal attributes I've held high over the years is my ability to practice reason, and very well. I'm not an idealist - I'm a realist. I know when things are so fantastical that even romanticizing certain ideas is a waste of my time. Don't get me wrong: I dream as much as the next person, but I know when to draw the line between "sure, that's possible" and "sure, that's a nice fantasy". Although this is the line in which my mind usually draws in the sand, sometimes I just cling to realities long enough for them to actually come true.

On the evening of December 21st, 2008, I was given a Christmas bonus at the establishment I worked at for the amount of one hundred dollars. At this point in my life I was really into amassing a musical instrument arsenal, which continues steadily to this day. I wanted everything that challenged everything capable of sonic altercations (mainly directed towards electric guitar playing). At the time I was obsessed with something called an Ebow, which is an abbreviation of "electronic bow", "electric bow" or "energy bow". This device, about half the size of a can of tuna (wow, what a shit example), is a hand-held wireless device that creates electromagnetic fields of energy that, once placed over a guitar string, cause it to vibrate, simulating the sound of a stringed instrument. Trust me when I say I was obsessed. The bonus went to this, plus a bit extra. I ran home to test it out (on an acoustic guitar, strangely enough) and it was everything I'd dreamed of.

Here is where this story begins to take shape. My parents' marriage was in it's final state of disrepair around this time. This being the case, the summer I moved home from Toronto would be my last in that house, as we were about to sell the house that following fall season. I'm not sure how it happened, but I must have put the Ebow in a drawer and forgot about it towards the end of the summer, because it would be the last time I ever saw it.

I can't explain the breakneck speed needed to move out of that house. Towards the end of the move, we'd given ourselves such little time to pack that everything, and I mean everything, was rammed at full speed into boxes, wrapping paper, bins, jars, bags etc. (productive procrastination: a genetic guarentee to most Schmidt family members). The worst part is that everything was shoved somewhere, meaning that it could be in one of four houses, in one of three cities, in one of 200 boxes. Needle-in-a-hay-stack-type-shit.

There were only a few items I've missed over the years: a vintage Kentucky Derby t-shirt, some MiniDV tapes, some photographs, drawings, and that Ebow. My friend Danny knows this way too well. Wherever I'd go; whether back home, my cottage, any family members house - I'd always say, half-jokingly "Oh, and while I'm there I'll check for that Ebow". I'm not kidding when I say I'd say this almost every time, for several years. It would usually be followed by a very mutual sigh between us, and the realization that this thing would never be found.

I've already mention that I'm a realist, which doesn't rule out everything. One of my favorite lines that I've used over the years, which frustratingly makes sense to many, is "I didn't lose it. I just haven't found it yet". Losing something is accepting that you've lost it. When you know something is within your grasp, there is no reason to accept defeat. That's like saying just because you got sunburned you're going to look like a fucking lobster for the rest of your life. It's not like it doesn't exist anymore (philosophy majors, fuck off on that one). So with this in mind, I never stopped looking for it. Everywhere I thought it could possibly be, I looked through in a process of elimination. Imagine Indiana Jones trying to find the Arc of the Covenant in that warehouse. Kind of like that.

I came home yesterday to my moms house, mainly to work on school-related projects in the privacy of my own thoughts and not have to worry about anything related to being in Toronto. As usual, I grabbed about six beers and a few cassettes and descended into the basement to untangle the mess of cardboard, clothes, lego, books and Christmas decorations. Things were going as planned: I pulled a few photos from my past, a few books, some paint brushes, a couple slides, reels of Super 8 film and select skateboarding magazines. Then, there it was.

Laundry Room Drawers was the name of the box. I can understand why I've never touched this box. For starters, it was under some box called Moms Books, which is a fucking landfill of 40-year-old woman literature. Kind of like if Oprah's book club needed an archivist. After sorting through this and downing an entire can of Guiness, I undertook the triple-decker sandwich of needles, thread and newsprint that was the next box.

Scraping towards the bottom, I found it. The object I'd been looking for all these years was staring me right in the face. It had to be the equivalent to seeing an old lover for the first time in years, and you're both single, and outrageously horny. The unflattering grey sheen covering this relatively insignificant piece of my history was staring me in the face, and everything I believe in was rekindled. The look on my face was priceless. I know this because I took a picture of myself holding the Ebow and sent it to Danny. He thought it was a stapler.

I didn't write this for you, the reader. I wrote it so I'd remember this moment. However, you can take this story with you as a reminder that hope and belief, no matter how unattainable or distant, is very possible. I should know - I just did it.

If this overly-positive article could visually personify itself, it would look like Bambi eating an ice cream cone while Thumper sings Hallelujah.

rollin'

we're playing again, tomorrow night, at El Mocambo. 11:30.
since the venue is across the street from our rehearsal space, nobody's driving.
therefore we're all partying for the first time.
having a license can be a burden.

King Shit

For a while now I've been tampering with the idea of scoring. Not scoring chicks. Scoring films. I'll blame it on the combination of my most recent university elective "Music and Film", as well as the Pianomation project. The course has given me a lot of insight as to the purpose of music in films, as well as the multitude of ways and styles the music can affect the viewer.
Its actually come to the point where I might begin to offer my services to film students seeking unique original scores.

Now, I'm not saying I'm King Shit when it comes to making music. I've had no formal training on any of the instruments I know how to play (except the Chinese dizi flute, which I can actually read music for as well). My familiarity with drums, bass, guitars, piano, percussion etc. are all bi-products of years tinkering (I'll call it tinkering for the sake of not saying "rigorous practice"). I will most often pick up an instrument and play until I'm satisfied with something I've done. Does this lack of training hinder me from my ambitions? No. Does the fact that I will probably never willingly seek lessons make me lose sleep? Not at all. You would be interested to hear how many of your beloved musicians have no idea how to read music, such as Billy Joel, Phil Collins and famed composer Danny Elfman. None of them have a clue, and that's fine by them.

Now, I'm not saying I'm King Shit when it comes to making music, but by fuck do I love making it. I'm going to risk sounding like an idiot when I say making music is one incredible experience. Seeing as the options are limitless, it's just you versus your instruments. The number of possibilities for harmonies, arrangements, instrumentations, timbres, placement, rhythm, etc. are sitting there waiting for you. It's seriously amusing, and I wish for you all to experience it one day.
I remember my first experience scoring a film. A friend made a silent spaghetti western in his apartment and asked me to provide an impromptu soundtrack. Using a dictaphone, an acoustic guitar, and a jar full of peppercorns, we crafted a soundtrack in about an hours time. The finished product was as satisfying to me as pulling a perfectly exposed print from a developer tray. There's something about seeing a completed piece that just gives you the willies.
I'm fairly new to this idea, and I'm sure my first few attempts would be the audible depiction of a child's first steps, but it scratches me where I itch.
Who knows for sure though. Like I've said before: I could probably compile a list of more than 30 artistic endeavors that have never transpired due to time and money.

hue video diary one

due to the lack of posts, i'll justify myself by putting this video up

shawty

Since when does Usher need autotuning?

I thought that was mainly used for those who can't produce notes in key?

Let's stick to the classics, because I'm with Jay-Z on this autotuning.

1979 - 2010

I just had to briefly mention the seriously tragic passing of You Say Party! We Say Die! drummer Devon Clifford. He collapsed on stage while playing a show at the Rickshaw Theater in Vancouver this weekend, suffered a brain hemmorage, and passed away hours after at a local hospital.

For those of you who aren't familiar with their work, YSP!WSD! is an incredible dance band and Devon's work behind the kit was always delivered with such an unmatched precision. His style and flare has been an influence on my drumming ever since seeing them for the first time years ago. I've since seen them at least four times, and I am continually in awe at their quality of musicianship and growth attained from countless tours across this country and Euope. I highly recommend you give this band a listen someday. I can't imagine what that must have been like for a bandmate to die during a performance. My condolences are extended to them.

ringing ears

We had rehearsals today for the first time in almost a month. Jess was in Portugal and Andrew was pissing out his ass in Peru (Dan and I sympathized, as we had similar stomach problems in Fiji - needless to say, we all had a good laugh).

So with them back, we had a really fun Sunday afternoon jam and went over most of the material we've been working on, as well as a couple new diddy's. On top of that, it had to be the loudest jam to date. The boys bought a beautiful new VOX amp for electric guitars, which means we now play with two electrics, bass, keyboards, and drums all at the same time. As you can probably notice from the photo, the space isn't huge. This is the first time I've ever left a rehearsal with my ears ringing probably because we played Rooftops today about six times, which is about this loud and this fast.

Here's a pretty irrelevant shot of my studio. I thought I'd take it because my wide angle lens gives me a pretty nice view of the place. You can check out some of the notes on my Flickr. There's some funny treasures in there.

until then

I was listening to this song the other night and decided to bring it back to life by making a video for it. Seeing as I had a camera full of travel footage, I thought why not use it somehow? The thing I find kind of funny about the video is that it was entirely shot by myself, my dad, and my brother - something which I can guarantee you won't happen again for the rest of history: the Schmidt boys filming music videos.

Needless to say, here it is.



Aside from that, it may be worth watching on Youtube's site, seeing as the format of my blog cuts the sides off videos when viewed on certain screen sizes, like my own.

americanos with cinnamon

Well friends, it appears we're back at it.

There's been serious talks about recording the next Hue record. We've applied for the government grants, talked to past produced Mikey T, scoped out studio locations, and have begun honing in on certain songs and possible other considerations for the album. The more interesting part of all this is we're possibly recording in March. That's not very far away.

The process of writing and recording is a very fun and tricky thing. Personally, when I sit down at the drum kit to write parts for new songs, I do it somewhat vaguely. Like in painting, I'll rough in an idea to expand from. Timing signatures, fills, splits, cymbal work, absences, different sticks and percussion etc etc. From there, after about a dozen or so run-through's, I should have a pretty good idea of what I'm doing. However, when writing an album, everything counts and you have to be prepared to play those same parts for the rest of your life. I've never actually regretted a single drum line that I've written, but some are just more strenuous than others (like Until Then, which is around 7 minutes of the same thing).

However, it's all quite exciting. I love the process. I pride myself on being fairly expedient in the studio; we're aiming to record all of my drum parts for this record in one day, maybe two. Like the recording process of the last record, I'll have an americano in my hands at all times. I can't drink one of those things without feeling the tight hug of studio headphones wrapped around my ears, and the smell of sound-proofed foam covering the walls.

The writing process has also been quite refreshing this time around. Seeing as we've added two new members to the lineup, the variety of sounds, instruments, and harmonies has opened up gigantic sonic possibilites. The rehearsals have been sounding as good as listening to a record. Writing with five people is a lot of fun, especially since it's less of a stage circus because there is little instrument change-overs when playing live.

Another thing to take into account when writing a record is the songs themselves: not so much the songs on the record, but the ones that don't make it. It's honestly like losing old friends. We have songs we've been playing for literally years that I know won't make this record. Dozens of them. Because as you start to form a record you realize thematically and sonically what it is and where it's going. Some, actually, most songs don't make records because they are either too "this" or too "that". Some rock a little too much, sound like somebody else, or are so over the deep end that it doesn't even sound like it was written by the same band.

Although we'll be cutting songs like chops of meat, the finished product is going to be something very special I think. I want to say it's very different from the last record, which it is, but not too far away. Don't expect to hear any rap or reggae on this record. I will say that we're far less timid this time around, timid in terms of exploration and limitations of the songs themselves. There's grooves, holes, length and chances taken in almost every track. Given that we've had a huge amount of time around to write and demo songs, the work has been allowed to group and expand organically amongst the group, unlike the last record, where the small amount of time to write and record reacted to some material like a miniature dinosaur that expanded in warm water.

Either way, I'll continue to post about any advancements over the next couple months, amongst other things.

saturday morning funny papers

This kind of made me laugh. For those of you who like Seven, or Radiohead, or both.

Why does Nessun Dorma make me want to shrivel up in a ball and cry like a little girl?

east and dp

Dan and I realised a while back that not only have we been friends for a long time, but we've been making music together for almost just as long. I'm fairly sure we've been involved in some sort of group together at any given time over the past 7 years.

I remember it like it was yesterday. We'd arranged to have a "jam" at my house in my bedroom. We planned on playing Credence Clearwater Revivals single, Down on the Corner. Hours before he showed up to my house, I pleaded with my sister to teach me how to play it, even though the song is only three chords. My fingers were getting sore even before he got there. I fumbled with the tabliture terribly, almost like a child learning how to ride a bike.

After several attempts together at completing the song, I looked over to the bongo I'd been given that Christmas (this one is specifically known as an Indian tabla), began to play, and the rest is history. I brought the beat and Danny played the guitar.

We continued to play together, comparing calluses in the cafeteria, and then we began playing with our good friend Nathan, who actually had a fairly decent understanding of the guitar. After only three or so practices, we played our first show together, under the name of Gerald Pessy at a coffee house. Later that month, we entered in our high school Battle of the Bands (how 'right of passage' does this sound for young boys?), and came in second.

Another story of this sort comes from the days before we played our final show together at The Embassy, which is all but a pile of rubble now. We decided to "electrify" our sound by putting Nathan on electric guitar, and me on drums for the first time. I really want to say this was because we were listening to a lot of Oasis at the time, but who really knows. I distinctly remember, much like the session with my sister, my brother sitting me down and teaching me the one and only beat I'd ever be structurally taught. It was the simple 4/4 beat that is most common in percussion. That night at the embassy, it was the only beat I played for every song. The tapes from that show exist somewhere, and I'll be damned if I don't find them someday.

Years later, after disbanding with Nathan, we wrote and recorded Fly Away under the name Hue. Seeing as we were the only two members of the band, we wrote and arranged all the instrumental parts together under the chord progressions and lyrics from Dan. The album is roughly recorded, but there is innocence, vision, and sincerity in the execution of the each song. I still have a few copies kicking around.

To this day, we are still best friends and continue to make music together. We have full confidence in each others talents, yet are never hesitant to provide feedback when needed. We compliment each others work, and never forget to pound knuckles after each night we play. Even after all these years, I think the one thing that keeps us from feeling stale musically is the fact that we're excited to hear what we can both come up with, whether alone or collectively. It's either that or we're both really good at freestyling.

...to another seven Danny boy.

peas and tarot's

Two shoots. Two days. Rush rush rush.

I was experimenting with a flash setup I bummed from school, except the sync chord they gave me didn't sync at all, so they were only really good for spot lights, but I made do.
I snapped some band shots last night of the lineup we've currently been rehearsing with. Who knew that one day we'd have another ginger, who's name is also Andrew, who also went as Tin Tin for Halloween? I don't know if I like the sounds of those similarities. As long as he can't freestyle as good as me, I'll be okay.

There are more shots, but they'll be released on our Myspace when we're good and ready: probably after a few more rehearsals.

The next shoot was this morning at Blair's urban planning firm.

I was hired on by Cal Brook and Anne McIlroy, who are quite possibly the two most gracious and patient bosses I've ever met. The shoot went very well. I allowed myself a little over three hours to shoot, and the production meeting we had weeks beforehand helped us craft the sort of images they were looking for to add to their website.
Despite my serious sickness, I managed to pull together a fine body of work (and even got to use a ladder). I'd add more photos to see, but they currently don't belong to me. Oh to be a business. Fun day nevertheless, and I even got another job out of it.

On a final note, Anne told me my personality is reflected in my work. Probably one of the best compliments I've received all year.

There you have it. Another capper on one of those "Impossible Weeks" I seem to keep having.

Raging Bull

Okay.
Everybody listen.
Scratch that.
Everyone in a band, or collective, listen.
Take the advice from ?uestlove (one of the greatest drummers/influences/aficionados/impacts on modern music today, from possibly one of the best hip hop groups of all time) and listen to him.
Sunday is Band Day.
Above any politics amongst your group, Sunday is Band Day.
Lately, Hue's has been Monday.
We drink tequila and freestyle.
I talk about cooking for the band, but the tequila is usually the deciding point.
Listen to ?uestlove.

my perfect:

I'm almost certain I've mentioned this before, but Search for Perfection is one of my favorite shows ever. The concept is incredible, Heston is really cool (except for his one whack nail), and it's really well filmed.
On top of all that, it's got the best theme song ever. I could listen to that song while doing anything: going for a run, having sex, studying, grocery shopping, scheming, robbing a bank, pleasure cruising, painting etc.

I recommend you give it a watch sometime.

you're all I need

I still consider this song to be one of the most inspiring and gorgeous sweeps of music to come out in the last twenty years. Listening to it on proper headphones makes me want to live until I'm 300 and never fall asleep. Aside from that, the Scotch Mist version is amazing. It's on my wish list if anyone is buying me Christmas presents.

Besides, is there anyone cooler than Thom Yorke? I'm still convinced he's an alien.

where the great plains began

I was sifting through my video camera the other night and completely forgot about this video.
It was originally shot for Dan, as we both share a love for the song, and for The Tragically Hip.
So, as I crossed the hundredth meridian over a year ago, this video was filmed.
Excuse the horrible singing, but if you knew how Gord Downie sang live, you'd understand.