Dearly beloved

sign cover

I grew up in a Liverpool dormitory town, 10 km or so outside the city, on the other side of the River Mersey on The Wirral. I was a plump, awkward teenager. Bright, but geeky. Prone to melancholy. Easily forming crushes on the pretty girls in class, but then too tongue-tied and shy to say a word to them, let alone express any of those powerful feelings I was experiencing. By the time I was 15 I was also pretty much at war with my parents. I was a sulking mess of hormones, anxiety and desperate sensitivity. That is to say I was both a pretty regular teenager and a complete monster. Mum, if you ever read this, I am truly so sorry…

Against this backdrop, I went into the annual family holiday in August 1986 with some reluctance. To me, this was two weeks of green-grey, sleety purgatory in Bude on the north coast of Cornwall. By this time I had outgrown the traditional British seaside holiday I had so loved as a kid, but was not yet able to stay at home by myself. I don’t remember what we did. Most of what I can recall is just driving around the Devon-Cornwall border in the family car with the rain lashing down and the wipers squeaking.

But one of those car journeys lives with me still, as clear as if I am still sitting in that burgundy VW Polo, as we trundle along some godforsaken Devonian bypass. We had the radio on. A particular song was broadcast and a few minutes later, some new neural circuitry was wired, my mind was blown and a bright, glowing spark was lit within me.

Fast forward nearly thirty years to today and I have become a plump and awkward middle-aged man, father of two. At least now I don’t get nervous when I talk to girls. Which is lucky, as I have the day off work to look after my four year old daughter whose daycare is closed for teacher training. I am standing next to a paddock in Helsinki’s central park, while my half-Finnish kid looks at the horses and ponies, telling me which one is the cutest, which one is her favourite. But I am elsewhere. I am back in that car in Cornwall. There are tears streaming down my face and I weep silently as I think of that moment and of the spark that was lit, because the man who lit it has just died. It’s OK, darling. Don’t worry my little mate. Daddy just has allergies.

I’m talking about Prince, of course. The song that played on the radio was Girls and Boys. From the album Parade, soundtrack to his second film, Under The Cherry Moon. The song is sparse and intense. In the 1980s, when every other thing was drenched in reverb and underlaid with pseudo-orchestral pads, this song took its groove from a dry saxophone, staccato cellos, a crisp drum machine and something that sounds like a bicycle bell. It was dark, powerful and funky as hell. There’s a hypnotic blues guitar motif and solo throughout — but played on an analogue synth that sounds like a psychedelic duck. The lyrics are about passion, sex and tragedy. Oblique, dark and unfathomable. A french girl moans and gasps. He did too, they were meant to be. Looks like rain.

Of course I had heard of and heard Prince before this moment. I had started listening to music years before. Even in primary school, at the age of nine or ten I had gone through a denim jacket and patches phase. AC / DC, Status Quo, Deep Purple. Even though I liked it, it didn’t stick. In those last couple of years before adolescence, at 12 or 13 my preferences had shifted towards music I thought girls might like. Duran Duran, Phil Collins and Frankie. I used to tape the Top 40 show on a Sunday night, then listen to it during the following week as I put together Airfix kits of world-war two fighters and modern jets, or painted little lead figures for Dungeons & Dragons games. I remember When Doves Cry, Let’s Go Crazy and Little Red Corvette from this time, even though I discovered them anew a couple of years later.

But by 15, as I neared adulthood and all its complexities I was primed and ready to hear something like Girls and Boys and have my world rocked, my mind blown.

After returning home from Bude, I bought Parade and it became the first important record of my life. This was music that meant more, that grooved harder, that was just better all round.

The spark that was lit, was not just about listening though, it was about doing and making. I realised that I wanted to write songs, to create music. That spark is within me to this day. I knew from then on, that it wouldn’t be enough just to love and cherish good music, it also meant I had to make it. I knew at that moment that I wanted to write songs, to craft sounds, to layer meaning. I had to create.

Millions of words have been written about how great Prince was as an artist, a songwriter and musician. But I think one of the special things about him was that even though he was a virtuoso guitarist and had mastered almost everything else, he always did what was right for the song. It was about expression, not indulgence. The technique never overpowered the feel and groove and when he wanted to, he was a master of economy. One example of this is also from Parade, the stripped-down pulse that is Kiss. Apparently it was originally a full-band number, but mid-mix, Prince entered the control room and pulled down half the faders. What we are left with is naked and skittering. A falsetto, a drum machine, a gated synth and a guitar.

Another example is the title track from his next album, Sign O’ The Times. A sequenced blip, a drum machine and a desolate lyric that sums up all the ills of the mid-1980s in about three minutes. The concluding guitar solo might be my favourite ever. Not the flashiest or most expressive, but full of controlled, melancholy violence and sorrow. If Miles Davis had wielded a Telecaster it might have sounded like this.

That whole album is encrusted with jewels. If I Was Your Girlfriend might be my favourite Prince song, which might make it my favourite song full stop. It’s the tragedy that gets you. Prince was often trivialised and misunderstood in the popular press as a horny, comical, Rick James style lothario. But as usual the popular press were fucking idiots. He was wondering if she would tell him all the things she forgot when he was her man. This was complex music from a complex man. Of course sex was there, but coupled to meaning, to love, to obsession, insecurity and a yearning for genuine connection.

Prince was also a gateway drug for me. From him, I discovered other things. I borrowed a tape of Axis: Bold As Love from a friend and listened to it on my Walkman at night as I fell asleep— for about 6 months. I learned about George Clinton, Sly Stone. This was the gateway to soul and funk. Then on to jazz, blues and gospel. The music of black America. The most important music in the world. Music that nourishes me to this day.

Following on from my discovery of Prince, other music also became just as important. A friend introduced me to the second half of The Beatles’ career. Even though the order is all wrong, I always think of Purple Rain as Prince’s Sergeant Pepper, Parade as his Revolver and Sign O’ The Times as his White Album.

The same friend introduced me to the Stones and U2 (I don’t care if you don’t like U2, I am past caring what you think is cool). From another I got The Cure. From another Miles Davis. From another Bowie. There was an infinite trail of breadcrumbs to follow and I am still following them.

But from the age of 15 until about 19 or 20, Prince remained paramount for me, the number one. Maybe because I discovered him for myself. Nobody loaned me a tape. Nobody tipped me off. In our circle of friends, I was even the source of this music.

Rewind 18 years. It is summer 1998 and somehow I am at a wedding in Copenhagen. My new friend is the bass player in the covers band that is just preparing for their second set and their singer is trying to remember the lyrics to Kiss. I begin dictating. The singer tells me I have it all wrong, that I don’t know the words by heart. Trust me. Yes it is Dynasty he is talking about. Act your age momma, not your shoe size. Trust me. I fucking know.

It was immediately after the Bude holiday that I began writing music too. The spark became a flame. With some friends I started a band, we played gigs, wrote tunes, got drunk together and confessed our secrets.

I thought I would be doing this for the rest of my life.

Unfortunately life had other ideas. So many things get in the way. Great wonderful things such as lovers, a wife, a family, children, friends, education, a career, travel and more. They are all to be cherished, but they have meant the spark that was lit has been somewhat neglected and dimmed. There have also been many horrible things that have threatened to extinguish the spark altogether. Bereavement, loss, heartbreak, depression, betrayal, humiliation. All of life’s twisted, thorny knots and chasms.

I am sure the spark nearly went out several times, but it’s still there. Flickering away. Hanging in there, if not burning bright. It’s the spark that drives me to pick up a guitar when I can, to hum and whistle ideas into my phone when I am out walking the dog. To email lyric ideas to myself when I am in meetings with clients. To publish things on Soundcloud occasionally. To not give a fuck if people like them or not. To please myself while just trying to be as good as I can. To want to do more, to get better, to express more, to let more out.

But there is something I kind of regret. I fell out of love with Prince a bit, gradually, over a period of a couple of years after Lovesexy and then the Batman soundtrack. For me part of his music’s richness and flavour came from its complexity. He was always fighting between two sides. Angel and devil. He could be overtly religious, but then profane. All on the same album. Sometimes the same song. That’s what gave his music its friction. The grit that made the pearls. His unparalleled period of creativity from 1999 to Sign (just five years from 1983 to 1987) was at least partly fuelled by this dichotomy.

But in 1987-88, just after Sign and just before Lovesexy he recorded an album of violent, dark funk called The Black Album. Then shortly before release he pulled it. In the video to Lovesexy’s first single, Alphabet Street, there was a small, almost invisible easter egg for fans. Some small text that appeared on screen only for a frame or two, reading “I’m sorry, don’t buy the Black Album”. He had swung starkly towards the dark, but then the light had won. The battle was over. The tension that had perhaps inspired his greatest music had gone.

So by the time I was 19 or so, and at university, my passion for Prince had waned. If you’d have asked me I would probably still nominated Sign as my favourite album of all time (and probably still would), but other things interested me more. I still bought the albums throughout the 1990s and spun them a couple of times. I could hear there was still some good tunes, but somehow they didn’t stick. I was more into exploring the ancient history of Marvin, Curtis, Sly and Al, as well as Jimi, The Stones, Mingus, Trane, Miles and Aretha.

So when I initially learned of the great man’s death, via social media of course, I participated in the now customary “Oh dear, how sad, what a loss” messages that seem to always happen. So far, so Facebook. But then the next day, it began to wash over me. That 15 year old boy awoke inside me, I remembered  the spark that was lit and the intervening years vanished.

The spark of course is the important thing in all this. It means understanding and being true to yourself. To working out what it is that you want to do and giving it to the world. This is the spark that creates art, that makes us human. It almost doesn’t matter if the results are crap, it is the giving that counts. The trying is everything. I also think it doesn’t have to be art. It is about living with integrity. Living your best life. Or at least getting up every day and trying to do so. This ultimately is the only thing we have to give to the world. And nobody has ever given more than Prince.

And it is this thought that poleaxes me as I stand next to the paddock. I am glad the light won out, that the tension was lifted, Spooky Electric and the dark forces of the Black Album defeated. Even though I prefer the pre-Lovesexy artist, I hope the lack of tension in his later music was a reflection of his later life.  I hope he was at peace, I hope he was happy and loved. I hope he was held and comforted as he slipped away. I hope he buried his demons, overcame his tragedies, including that most harrowing of experiences, the loss of a child. As I write, the results of the autopsy are not yet public and the internet is full of rumours of overdose. I hope they are wrong, but regardless, I hope Prince had found happiness. It’s this thought that overwhelms me as I cry in the park, with my kid and the horses.

Of course after this hammer blow I know what I have to do. I have to nourish the spark that was lit within me. I have to be true to what happened in that shitty little car on that shitty rainy road, in that transcendent moment when I just knew. I have to nourish that spark, fan that flame. Do what I can. Give what I can. Doesn’t matter if it is shit, it just has to be true. I just have to give in order to truly be me. For my family, for my friends, for myself.

And I really couldn’t put it any better than an old and formative friend of mine did on Facebook on the night of Prince’s death, just over 24 hours ago:

I’m asking everyone – just tell the man to fuck off. Go and join a band. Write that book. Sell your shit and live off your means. The world as we know it is full of bullshit and it is your duty to stick two fingers to it. Get everyone out of your life that doesn’t make you feel good about yourself and your world. Life’s way too short and you’ve only got the best part of 40000 days to achieve anything. Say yes. 2016 has most definitely been the year of the spooky electric. But it has to stop. So welcome to the new power generation. The reason why my voice is so clear is there’s no smack in my brain…”

You have to give. I have to give. We have to give. Prince was 57 when he left us. I will be 45 this year and of course there is a big disease with a little name headed my way at some point. I don’t know when that is. But I know it is coming, sooner or later.

There is no time to waste.

Peace, love and great great sorrow

Prince Rogers Nelson 1958–2016

NS

22/4/2015

Underpowered

A while ago, back in December, on the evening I put strings on the S180, I played a stupid little riff that got stuck in my mind. Which led to another stupid little riff, then both of them jumped into Logic and then I applied a drum track to them, then I got out my P-bass and well… one thing led to another and I got this funky little tunette. I quite like it, even if listening back I regret the percussiony thing. That was over-egging the pudding. It is also — appropriately enough — very quiet. So turn up your volume…

Recorded with the Kawai S180 and my Squire Precision Bass plus Apple Logic.

Here it is…

It lives…

So after working out that actually the Kawai was pretty knackered, I went about fixing it up.

Step one was a visit to the excellent Millbrook here in Helsinki. I took the guitar with me and then bought all the parts I needed to get it working. Screws, springs for the pickups and tuners — because unfortunately the vintage Kawai / Teisco tuners I ordered from eBay didn’t fit. The nice chap at Millbrook sorted me out with some Kluson split-shaft vintage Fender-style tuners, plus some extra screws due to the wide spacing between the post holes on the Kawai head-stock.

Fitting all the screws into the scratch-plates and around the pickups was easy, but fitting the tuners into the head-stock was another matter. For starters I needed to buy a drill to make pilot holes for the fixing screws. After agonizing for a couple of weeks and feeling I should invest in a proper power-drill that would also be good for doing stuff around the house, I ended up buying a cheap and cheerful hand-drill from Clas Ohlson, which was totally the right approach for drilling 2-3mm diameter pilot holes. The power-drill must wait.

Then I tried to fit the tuners. First problem was that the bushes didn’t fit the holes snugly enough. After a bit of googling I worked out how to glue toothpicks into the holes for a tighter fit. Next problem was that the head-stock already had some holes in. Some of them coinciding with places I needed to put tuner screws. So they needed to be filled. Again with toothpicks and wood glue. After a couple of evenings messing about with glue, toothpicks and drill bits, I got down to the last tuner installation. Then I used a one-size-too-big drill bit for the final pilot holes. Sick of messing with toothpicks I decided just to go to Clas Ohlson and buy some bigger screws. The next evening the final tuner went on really easily. So some advice if you ever find yourself installing Kluson tuners: Throw away the crappy screws that come with them and buy some proper 3mm wood screws from your local hardware store. The Kluson screws are really hard to screw in (blunt?), they deform easily and they are generally crap quality. Buy new screws. You’ll thank me.

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Kluson tuners going on. Original screws a total nightmare.

With the tuners on I could go ahead and put strings on it. So a couple of nights ago I did so. Putting a set of 11s on there. I stretched the strings just like you are supposed to and tuned them up. This was the first time I actually played this guitar. It felt good.

Well, actually although it felt good to play this beat-up old thing it certainly did not feel good to play. In the lower positions everything was fine, but by the 5th fret the top E and B strings begin to buzz like hell. The action is very low with absolutely no neck relief. The truss-rod needs slackening to move the strings off the finger-board. However, this being an odd-ball old vintage guitar it doesn’t have a modern hex / allen key socket, but rather a nut recessed into the head-stock. So I need to buy another new tool. A vintage guitar truss-rod wrench.

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From the top. Wacky truss-rod nut just about visible at bottom of head-stock.

The slight twist in the neck also became more apparent with the strings on. It could be that a really great set up will not be possible on this guitar. But maybe I just use it for slide?

Also, putting strings on revealed that only the two pickups nearest the neck are working. The third pickup is working only intermittently. The fourth pickup now seems completely dead.

So this is like pealing an onion. Each job reveals what I have to do next, which are buy a tool to set up the truss-rod and take a look at the electronics. I am now about 200 EURO into this guitar, if you include the original 110 EURO it cost me plus the parts I have bought. More if you count tools — but they are reusable.

Still. It’s alive. It has strings on. You can plug it into an amp and make noise. Yay!🙂

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A functional guitar. With strings on! Now it just needs setting up and the electronics fixing…

Not an SS4L, but rather an S180

I took my guitar into the office to show off to some interested fellow guitar geeks and while there, one colleague (Hi Tatu!) spotted, after doing a Google image search on his phone that my guitar might actually be something other than a Kawai SS4L.

My assumption (and clearly also that of the guy who sold it to me) was that this was basically a Teisco SS4L re-branded as Kawai, after Kawai acquired Teisco.

But if you google Teisco SS4L and Kawai S180 they are actually pretty different guitars. Both have four pickups however, so I guess it is a reasonable mistake to make.

Teisco SS4L

Kawai S180

I googled Kawai S180 and found Jarmo’s Guitars.

(First hit. In Finland. Spooky).

I exchanged emails with Jarmo and he told me that my guitar is definitely an S180. Probably 1964.

So that makes this guitar 51 years old, Wow.

Some smaller updates…

  1. I am told (thanks, Marko!) that Kawai means “cute” in Japanese!
  2. I plugged the guitar into an amp and clonked the pickup pole pieces with a screwdriver. All pickups are alive, but two out of four of the toggle switches are a bit ropey and will need replacing. Tone circuit clearly works too. I could hear the pickup noise being shaped. Who knows about the volume pot. At least it doesn’t feel good.
  3. I just bought some Teisco / Kawai tuners on eBay that I hope will fit this guitar. Let’s see.

That is all.

Kawai evaluation. Spoiler alert: It’s pretty knackered.

So I found an hour the other day to start really examining my cheesy late 60s guitar purchase, the Kawai SS4L I bought last week.

The first impression that this could be a mighty fine guitar still holds, but I am now more intimidated by the amount of work needed to get it into playing shape.

Let’s summarize what I know so far.

Hardware

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The mounting plate on the back is in horrible shape and there seems no saving it. I have already taken it off, probably permanently.

As noted previously, the tuners are missing. Or in fact it looks like bits such as the posts, keys, gears have been ripped off for use somewhere else. The nice front mounting plate remains though. So I will try to keep it. The sub-assembly on the back is knackered and bent and probably not useful once I buy new tuners for the guitar.

Like the tuner mounting plate on the front of the headstock

The tuner mounting plate on the front of the headstock is nice and distinctive. I hope I can buy tuners to fit through it

Further down the neck the string guides and truss-rod cover look OK. But who knows what the nut is like.

Sting guides, truss rod cover and nut

Sting guides, truss rod cover and nut

The frets are really really small and low profile. Maybe this is why it is used so much for slide? But I will want the option to play it normally. So let’s see down the road if that is possible. If not then a re-fret by a professional will be necessary.

Semi floating bridge

Semi floating bridge

The bridge is there and not attached. Unlike the Fender guitars I am more used to, this is semi-floating and will rely on string pressure to keep it down. I say semi-floating because i also have my Ibanez ES175 copy where he bridge is not attached in any way. The thumb wheels remind me of a Tunomatic.

I don’t understand the vibrato system at all. It looks cool from the outside, but when I take off the cover I don’t get how it moves. It doesn’t feel springy. Maybe with strings on?

Vibrato assembly from above

Vibrato assembly in context

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Vibrato assembly

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Inside the vibrato assembly: What is going on?

The neck plate is has a nice “Japan” stamp on it. I read on a forum that it might actually be a set neck and not bolt-on at all, but Teisco / Kawai just wanted to make it look like a Fenders, so they screwed on a plate. I haven’t taken it off to check.

Neck plate stamped "Japan" Merely cosmetic?

Neck plate stamped “Japan” Merely cosmetic?

Whole lotta switches

The front of the guitar is taken up with three metal scratch-plates. One in the centre of the guitar holds the four pickups. Another chrome plate on the upper bout has holes where two pairs of rocker switches used to be. The third on the lower bout holds the master tone and volume, plus four toggle switches. That is a lot of switches.

Upper bout. Missing the rocker switches.

Upper bout. Missing the rocker switches.

Lower bout. With tone, volume and four toggle switches.

Lower bout. With tone, volume and four toggle switches.

If the toggle switches are original, then this means there were 8 switches in total on the guitar. That’s pretty crazy. But it could mean that, if each pick up had a switch in both signal and ground, any combination of the four pickups in series and parallel would be possible. This is something like the way Brian May’s Red Special is set up.

Looking under the hood of the lower bout chrome plate then it seems like even though the rocker switches have been removed, the wiring seems pretty complete.

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There is also a lot of really thin paper-backed foil inside the electronics cavities. A theory emerges. I wonder if the guitar suffered from a lot of hum picked up by its single-coil pickups? Maybe someone thought that the wires running up from the output jack to the pickups to the rocker switches on the upper bout were part of the problem. There is also some really pathetic paper-backed foil lining the guitar pickup cavity, which might be trying to address the same problem. But if so, they clearly didn’t know what they were doing, as the shielding material seems inadequate and no attempt has been made to ground it. But anyway, I’m guessing the toggle switches were added later and replaced the original rocker switches. The wiring certainly seems amateurish.

There are no loose connections and it could be that if I am lucky, the electronics will work as they are.

In terms of values, it seems to be difficult to read the pots, but If I desolder them I can take a reading with a multimeter. The tone capacitor seems to be 0.05uF.

Pots. 500k?

Pots. 500k?

Tone cap. 0.05 uF ?

Tone cap. 0.05 uF ?

Pickups

The pickup wiring all seems OK. But there was some crazy stuff going on underneath that middle scratch plate.

Firstly, a previous owner had taped — using basic clear sellotape type tape — a big black magnet to the underside of the bridge pickup. To boost its output? Is there any reason to think this would work?

Underside of pickups with extra magnet piggy-backed on bridge pickup

Underside of pickups with extra magnet piggy-backed on bridge pickup

I also found that most of the pickup height adjustment springs were missing and half that were left were in bad shape. One was even straightened out somehow.

Crazy messsed up pickup height springs.

Crazy messsed up pickup height springs.

So that was pretty much it, except to mention that someone has signed the inside of the volume and tone cavity, and put a date? 2000.

At least I know that someone who owned this guitar before really cared about it. At least enough to do mods to the electronics and try and boost pickup output. And maybe they also signed their name?

2015-10-14 23.13.16

HNGD to me: Kawai SS4L

Huuto.net and tori.fi are the two websites here in Finland for buying second-hand stuff. Huuto is the equivalent of eBay and Tori the equivalent of Craigslist. I trawl both regularly looking at guitar-related stuff, but it is extremely rare to see anything interesting on either of them. They are typically both awash with over-priced Corts and Harley Bentons, budget brands that seem very common in this neck of the woods. Almost all Strat or Les Paul copies, with the occasional pointy-pointy or Telecaster. Quality guitars are expensive and there is very little funky or interesting to be had, unless you go for serious vintage, which means serious money.

So I was really intrigued when I spotted an ad reading HOUND DOG TAYLOR KAWAI SS4L on huuto.net. The starting price in the auction was 100 EURO. When I googled it the first hit I got said Dan Auerbach owned one. More googling revealed this video

And this one:

It was the exact same guitar.

It turns out that Hound Dog Taylor, as mentioned in the ad is also fantastic by the way.

Apparently Hound Dog favoured Teisco or Kawai guitars for two reasons. Firstly because they were important to create his ‘head-cutting’ tone and secondly because they were readily available in pawnshops for around $25, so it didn’t matter much if he pawned or sold his own in order to get some extra money for the kind of hijinks that must have inspired his nickname.

More googling revealed this guitar to be a model originally developed by Teisco in the mid 1960s. When Kawai acquired Teisco in 1967, they continued to produce this model, but changed the brand to Kawai around1969. So this put this guitar around 1969 ish or shortly after. Even older than me!

The ad warned that the guitar on Huuto was missing a few things, such as tuners, pickup switches and pickup wiring. i.e. in need of some pretty serious work.

Still, I was totally in. A crazy four pickup Japanese guitar that might be older than me and has been used by Dan Auerbach and an amazing bluesman I had never previously heard of? For less money than our weekly shop? Wrap that beauty up…

I bid, putting up the price to 105 EURO and waited the 24 hours until sunday evening for the auction to close. I watched it live over the final 20 minutes, sure I was going to get a rival, but that never happened. The guitar was mine.

The next day I paid the seller, Friday afternoon it arrived. Looking like this.

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It’s a bit of a wreck. But completely beautiful.

it should look like this:

5b4461f7faca5c4884d3c0047a1db-orig

So apart from the things mentioned it is also missing a bunch of screws from the scratch plate and is otherwise pretty beat-up and dirty. The seller described its condition as “tyydyttävä“, which translates as “satisfactory”, but really means “not in good condition at all”. So this was no surprise.

The important things are that the neck is in good condition and all four (!) original pickups are there. The original bridge and whammy bar are also there.

Next I need to find time to do a full evaluation of what needs doing to get this little charmer back into playing shape.

Glowbugs. And why I will stop buying Computer Music Magazine.

So, inspired by getting a whole two comments in the last couple of weeks (on a blog that has lain mostly dormant for over two years), I decided to write a post.

About 3 years ago, when we were still living in Arizona, with still a year to go before we moved back here to Helsinki, I bought my daughter a little yellow ukulele. I would pick it up occasionally, finger random chords (too lazy to learn properly) and strum. After a few times of doing this, a piece of music began to emerge and when I played it, my kids would dance. It continued to evolve gradually over the next year or so, developing a relative minor section and a couple of little (I rather arrogantly thought) Beatles-esque baroque runs on the top string.

I continued playing it and my daughters continued dancing to it and enjoying it. I began to try to think of lyrics and a melody but found nothing that would match the music. I then decided that maybe the ukulele part could stand on its own two feet without vocals. Especially without my vocals.

So I made a tune out of it. I recorded the ukulele part into Garageband, then began layering other instruments on top. First some drums, then some electric guitar (heavily processed) and some synths. I then added a bass-line. Here is the result:

I picked the title ‘Glowbugs’, or ‘glowbugs’ as for some reason (over-weaning humility?) I don’t like to use capitals in my track names, because it suggests prettiness, childhood, dancing. Referring to my daughters whom this little tune originally entertained. I used Poolside’s cover of Neil Young’s Harvest Moon (a favourite of my wife’s and my daughters’) as a reference track, especially to set tempo and the drums.

The track (by which I mean my track, not Harvest Moon) to me sounds unfinished. There is little escalation through the 4:21 of the track, it basically just repeats itself, with only the major/relative minor contrast to leaven things. The drum track doesn’t even really have any fills.

But even if I spiced up the arrangement, there would still be lots of mistakes to fix. For example the bass has some timing mistakes and a lot of fret-rattle.

Then I could get onto a proper mix. This would involve me learning about mixing. I have a couple of books on recording and mixing and of course the web is full of advice. I am also a sucker for Computer Music and Total Music. The kinds of magazines that come with a DVD including 6GB of samples and some new effects plug-ins, then tutorials in the mag on mixing and mastering. I am pretty tech savvy (with a degree in electronics engineering that even involved taking some DSP courses), so I always think I could be a pretty good audio engineer if I set my mind to it.

So sometimes I sit down at my computer and think, OK, let’s start improving my mixing. I open up a track and then start going through the process. And then I get bored. Trying to optimise a track that already exists at some level bores the shit out of me. It feels too much like work. It is incredibly time-consuming and detail-oriented. Within 10 minutes of starting I am checking Facebook or surfing the web.

I like playing guitar and creating music. I don’t like cleaning up tracks and mixing.

So that’s why Glowbugs will remain as it is and why I will never again by Computer Music magazine.