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Well, even in a recording session, being a one-man act is more of an art than science.  While I know how to sequence life-like drums and play (or pretend to) all other instruments well enough to create full-band recordings on my own, doing it well is definitely not an easy affair.

One of the things I have problems with is setting the right tempo for my songs.  Even though I play them often, in the process of programming drums and recording the rhythm guitar, I sometimes forget to sing — and the resulting song has tempos that felt perfect when it was just guitar and drums, but unfit for vocals.  Tiny Toon, arguably the simplest among my songs on my first album, was recorded 3 times before I got close to being in the right tempo — and to this day I still wonder if the recording’s a bit too fast.

So, with these lessons in mind, I’m going to propose this following sequence for my upcoming sessions:

1. Sequence the basic drum grooves
2. Record scratch rhythm guitars.  And I do mean scratch — the purpose of these tracks is to set up the next step, which is,
3. Record the (scratch) lead vocal.  Fine tune and redo #1 and #2 if necessary. Build in micro-tempo changes for transitions, different sections of songs, etc.
4. Build out the real drum sequences, complete with all the fills.
5. Record the real rhythm guitars.
6. Record bass,
7. Backing vocals (and redo lead vocals if necessary)
8. and finally, lead guitars.

This ought to be a fool-proof and efficient way to record.  The only concern I have is how early in the process lead vocals come.  Lead vocals are often the last thing in normal recording sessions, for a reason.  It’s just hard for singers to really get into the songs when the backing tracks are so bare.  So I fully expect to redo pretty much all of lead vocals at the end.

Truth be told, steps 6-8 are really my favorite parts — so until I get there, recording a song is a rather grinding hard work that requires a lot of patience.  But I tell you, the pay off is great!  It is super fun to experiment and build arrangements once the tempos are right and the basic tracks are kick-ass.

Playing the guitar (or any instrument) is like learning to speak a language.  At first, you only know a few words or phrases.

But the only way to get better? Say What You Can.

I had a downer feeling yesterday about my guitar playing.  Although I didn’t have much time today, I wanted to play a bit to see if I can feel better about it.

Glad I tried.

The problem is that I have a great mind (if I say so myself ).  I can play some amazing guitar in my head.

You see, that’s really not a problem.  The only problem here is that my imagination is unlimited by my playing ability.  Or rather, I’m still not disciplined enough to confine my imagination to what I can play.

But just like knowing what you want to say but not knowing the words to say them, you have to start out by picking out words that are close enough in your head.  If you remain silent, then you’re most certainly not communicating, nor are you getting better at it.

So today I focused on simplifying — be creative with note choices and expressions and phrasing.

It wasn’t mistake-free, but it was much better.

A lot of guitarists play licks instead of musical ideas.  I am guilty of that, too.  Just play what my fingers have a habit of playing.  Not really hearing my phrases in my head before playing.

So I am trying to get out of that — but I’m still not that good at it.  I feel clumsy and my range seems so limited.

But I have to say what I can say.  That’s the only way I’ll get better at this.

And I will.

Well, yesterday I received my new audio interface, Echo AudioFire4, and today I plugged it in…. and it sure works.  The installation process was a no-brainer, giving me confidence about the supposed good reputation this company has on their drivers.

The playback seems a bit brighter than what I’m used to with the long-defunct Alesis IO14.  But it’s just a hair, though — nothing I can’t get used to.

So I opened up a recording of one of my songs I last worked on in Logic Express — only to discover that the drum samples are missing.  It somehow didn’t survive the hard drive crash I had a couple of days ago — I think I know why, though it’s really not useful to explain here.

I have the samples backed up elsewhere, but it’s among the stacks of backup CDRs I have — it was from the days before I had hard drives to back things up to.  This was an unexpected extra step in my current project to get me back into recording after a 6-month hiatus.

Some of the plugins didn’t work, either — I need to investigate that.

Then I was jamming to some King’s X later.  And I was struck once again between how clumsy I am on my guitar.  I’ve been practicing diligently and I feel that I am in a good shape, chop-wise — but my good shape is still nowhere near I want to be.

So today felt like it was one step forward, two steps backward.  I long to be in a place where I can creatively express myself effortlessly — my equipment is all set up and seamlessly working, and I have a command on my instrument that I can pull out what I hear in my head.

But in the mean time, I just have to say what I can say with what I got.  That’s creative and still fun, too.  I just need to get over these initial mini-frustrations.

Onward!

Well, there are many advices out there for us musicians — do this, do that, sort of thing.  They all focus on the techniques, the little tricks you can do to sell more CDs or bring more people to the show or build your fanbase.

And they can be useful. I’ve read them and I tried some of them, sure.

But these last couple of years, I started realizing how much of the foundation I was missing.  I was looking for tips on roofing, when I hadn’t dug the proper foundation.

Let me explain.  As a guitar player who started playing in the late 80s, I was initially influenced by very technical playing of that era.  To be a good rock/metal guitarist meant that I was supposed to be able to pull off flashy techniques.

So I spent a lot of time trying to play fast.  Because if fast wasn’t there, I wasn’t a good guitarist.  I scoured and tried practice tips that supposedly helped me get faster, fast.

15 years later, I am a guitarist who can’t play very fast and who can’t play very slow — well, all right, I’m not bad — but I am nowhere near where I thought I could be.

In my pursuit of speed, I failed to realize how important it is to build a solid house.  There were some licks I learned to play fast, but I couldn’t modify them or apply them — they were just habits of my hand.

This last year or so, I finally realized that if I want to really play fast, then I better be able to play softly well first.  Like learning how to hold down the strings with the very tip of my fingers (it gives me the most expressive control), instead of pushing the strings down carelessly, letting my fingers fall wherever they do.

The same thing happened with my singing.  I was trying to sing high, and I sounded terrible.  My high range expanded, once I stopped trying to reach out there and focused more on notes within my range.

Ironic, isn’t it?

There’s a Japanese saying “if you want to go fast, go around.”  Don’t look for shortcuts, but take the long way.

That’s the lesson I’m having to learn.  The long way actually is the fast way. Because shortcuts either fail to help you get there or even if you do, you won’t stay there.

So, as a musician, I am digging deep to identify and isolate my core.   Instead of employing every technique that supposedly produce success, I’m going to figure out who I am and what I have to offer, first.

After all, what good is a haphazardly put-together roof without any foundation?

Well, I’ve been waffling for a good number of weeks this fall, for many reasons.  But in the last few days, finally things seem to come back into focus for me.  So I thought I jot down my discovery/reconfirmation of the bottom line:

I am a maker of new songs who uses guitar as the main creative tool.

That is the #1 thing in my book.  That’s the reason I get up in the morning.  On days when I get to spend time doing that, my heart just bounces.  I can’t wait to get going.   Just writing about it now give me a glimpse of that feeling and makes me smile.

I can do many other things, but that is the thing I enjoy the most.  It’s an act that is a reward all on its own.

Now, I don’t make songs just so that I can keep it in my closet.  Just like anybody else who makes something s/he is excited about, my songs are to be shared.  But promoter I am not — making new music is the part that thrills me.

I also intentionally avoided using the term songwriter here, though that’s exactly what I am.  Unfortunately, I don’t particularly like using that word, as it tends to mean other things — a nuance that leans toward folky/acoustic styles.  That’s part of my range, but I’m more into modern rock and metal.  Plus, I’m not just interested in writing — I love realizing my vision of my songs.  That includes arranging, performing, and recording, too.  I love the whole process of starting from a snippet to delivering the finished song to the audience.

So,  how does a 30-something married man with little kids go about creating a life where he can spend abundant time making up his modern rock/metal masterpieces?

That’s the puzzle I need to solve, from here on.

But I am now back to the starting point.  This is my bottom line — my focus.

Incidentally, it’s the eve before Thanksgiving.  I feel very grateful — after meandering for the last few months — to rediscover my mission.

If I lose sight of it again, please remind me.

Sorry I’ve been neglecting this blog — my business vision is still constantly evolving, and it really hasn’t settled down.

But here’s a milestone. My studio is finally operational. I’m not finished with setting it up, but it’s taken long enough to get to this point, so I’m going to put a halt to setting up and start making music.

Me in my studio/office.

My weapons (they don't call'em axes for nothin'!)

Boy, the place looks still quite clattery and crammed in these pictures.  It’s a 10×15 room filled to the gills — so it’s definitely a one-man studio.  But it has a tall ceiling (14 feet?) so it doesn’t feel too claustrophobic, actually.

Above all, just the sight of my guitar all lined up at my arm’s reach, ready for action at any moment, is what makes me giddy with glee.

I am doing what I’m born to do.  I’m making music.