Improvisational music recording, aka Sound Sketching, is my most genuine form of self-expression. I have relied on it to introspect and grow through the many experiences of life. Each recording is like a sketch in a book in that it is more of a focused act of creating than it is an attempt to record a song, hence the name. Sound Sketching has an added function of serving as journal entires, as each recording is a reflection of a specific personal experience. While many of these recordings move with altered tempo, missed notes, atypical sound balancing and uncharacteristic vocal styles, each one is an authentic capture of a moment in my life.
Ask a person, “when was the first time you dribbled a basketball?” They probably won’t be able to tell you, and more than likely they wouldn’t be able to show you. With these recordings I can look back on certain aspects of my life with that type of clarity. I know what it sounded like when I found out my dog had cancer for the second time because I recorded the reaction, right then in that moment as soon as I hung up the phone after being notified (heard below in the Sketches section as “Midnight Sun, All Day Moch”). I can also hear less serious moments, such as the first time I tried to play Fiona Apple’s “Shadowboxer,” ever. Rather than feel my way through the chords while humming along and figuring out the details ahead of time, I sat down to it and gave it my attention, pressed record and captured a true first moment attempt at a song I’d always appreciated but had never played before. It may not be great, but it’s a true first and it’s there for me to look back on should I ever want to (heard below in the Meditations section).
As we age we have fewer and fewer “firsts.” They’re often awkward but they’re usually the beginning of something. Here are some of mine. What are some of yours?
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HISTORY OF SOUND SKETCHING
The practice of music journaling, or "sound sketching," began when I was fifteen years old. A man came to my Dad's house to determine an estimate for upgrading to energy saving dual panes. He'd heard me practicing from outside the house without my knowing, and later when he came to my room to examine the sills he'd asked what I'd been playing- turns out he was a musician himself. I said I didn't remember. He said, "Well I know 'Black Magic Woman' was in there, and I caught what sounded like 'Don't Get Around Much Anymore,' but there was all that stuff in the middle, what was that?" From what I recall I shrugged and said I didn't know, that I'd just been jamming out. The man smiled then offered the following advice, [paraphrased from memory] "Listen, you gotta record yourself every time you play. Every time. Painters sketch and practice and look back at their progress and mistakes, draw and scribble and erase, all that. We have to do that, too. There's magic is some of those small notes right? Riffs that come outta nowhere? When you're in the zone playing by feel you can't hear the music for what it sounds like, the groove is too distorting, so you have to record it and listen to it later in order to actually hear it. You'll find magic you didn't even know was there, I'm telling you. Then you can record the good parts to a different tape and record over the rest the next time you play. It'll help you grow as a player and hone your style. I heard you getting lost, man. That's the greatest feeling. Recording will give that a little direction, when you've found your way back and are ready to hear it. Keep it up!" When man left I dug through the garage and found a tape recorder and a stack of blank cassettes- I started recording that very day. By the time I graduated high school I had a box of over a hundred beat up & warped tapes, labeled by season/year with additional alphanumerics for organization. Though I recorded over them constantly and became increasingly discriminant of what was saved and what was to be dubbed over, the process was getting out of hand.
In my mid-twenties I started to develop a different system, which by my thirties developed into the system of categories that I use today: Meditations, Sketches, and Drafts.
SKETCHES
Most of my recordings are “sketches” of ideas, such as chord progressions that come to mind while in the shower, when driving, or blips of a melody that drift past while working with a patient, etc. The basic structure of a sketch is a multi-track recording where one or two of the tracks are the original intended idea, serving to form the general impression, much as a painter or pencil artist may start with the general outline of a tree or a body figure. Additional tracks are then recorded, but quickly, utilizing more intuition than plan in order to capture the same freeness of a sketch on paper or canvas. Wrong notes and skips in tempo are analogous to the peripheral shading or experiments in color applications one might find in a sketchbook- they do not matter. Sketches are an exercise in creating without expectation of outcome, but utilize a more specific direction than Meditations, which are described further below.
DRAFTS
Drafts are recordings with no improvised tracks. Each recording has several tracks and each track has received more than one recording attempt, therefore removing any true improvisational influence.
MEDITATIONS
Meditations are either completely improvised original sound recordings, or are unrehearsed covers of songs that are being recorded as I play them for the first time. The aim of a Meditation is to capture a raw moment of unplanned, intuitive expression.
Prior to recording I will set everything in place, tune the instrument, do a microphone check, then pause a few moments to either clear my mind or to focus specifically on a theme, taking care not to pre-plan any chord progressions or lyrics. When ready with an empty mind I’ll hit the record button & play what comes out. If doing a cover I will select a song I know well but that I've never played before, read over the lyrics/chords but not practice them prior to recording.
Most of these are single track recordings. If more than one track was used, the additional vocals or instruments were recorded as unrehearsed single takes. After making this type of recording I permit myself to cut the beginning/end and/or balance the sound, but am not permitted to pitch correct, re-record or edit any central aspect of the recording.