Perfection in music is boring, pandemic brings positive change

Scott Cooley:  Keeping it first-take fresh, and all-acoustic for no apparent reason?

“Perfection has one grave defect: it is apt to be dull.” – W. Somerset Maugham

A great thing is happening with music these days:  because of Coronavirus, musicians are streaming videos of themselves online singing and performing on acoustic guitars live in their homes.  You get to hear what people sound like without their bands, without their sound systems, and without their digital effects you would normally hear them using if you went to one of their shows where they performed on a stage.  You get to hear what the songs sound like in their purest, most naked and real forms as opposed to the artificially-enhanced recorded studio album versions.  It might be one of the greatest things to happen to music ever in our lifetimes!

Things are getting back to a style of music delivery I love as a music fan and consumer, harkening back to the days before electricity.  It’s hopefully making people realize it’s the best way to enjoy music.  It might even make the general public collectively more appreciative of music like the kind I make.  Maybe more will understand all of the good reasons why I prefer to keep it first-take fresh and all-acoustic as a general approach to recording.

It takes guts to write songs, record them, and then offer up those creations for public consumption.  When you do it, you pat yourself on the back that at least you tried, and reassure yourself that trying is better than never starting at all.  You have to start somewhere, and I hereby argue, you have to finish somewhere too. 

By that I mean you need to raise up the babies that are your songs and use a gut instinct to know when to quit trying to perfect them, then send them out into the world to fend for themselves.  Opening your creations up to judgment and criticism is about intentionally being vulnerable without being ashamed.  I’ve done that a lot, and I’m proud.  That said, are there still little things in retrospect I would change here and there?  Yes, a few, but surprisingly, not that many.

My motto is you can’t be great at everything, but you can try, only when you do, it’s better to not try too hard. I have the sweet sound effects and software to make the fake music on my computer.  All the bells and whistles at my disposal.  It doesn’t make sense to most people why I wouldn’t want to use them.  Why try to play all the instruments yourself?  Why not fix your out of tune notes?  Why not do take after take until you finally nail it or at least comp the best parts to a perfect track?

It wouldn’t be a total waste of my time, but it’s not the best use of my time.  I know wrong notes and off-key vocals and off-beat drums can be cringe-worthy.  I’d rather be working on writing more new songs instead of lining everything up to a perfect grid.  Perfection is overrated, and even though I believe that, I’m still one to let people know it’s intentional and I know I’m not great at everything.  It’s important to be able to admit your weaknesses and laugh at your mistakes and be proud of your approach and style, even when it defies common sense.

I am probably a little over-conscious of my imperfections.  I also like to think I have a good sense of humor.  Like most stand-up comedians who quickly like to get it out there what it is about them that makes them different or imperfect, I’m quick to do that about my music as evidenced in this blog.  It’s rare to see a fat comedian not do a fat joke, or a minority comedian to not cover racism in a funny way.

Self-deprecation and being able to laugh about yourself and your flaws is healthy, and arguably, can contribute to people liking you.  In the same way, flaws in music can arguably make that music more enjoyable to listen to.  Mine definitely qualifies as being flawed, but it was the best I could do at the time, and I know from experimentation that endlessly tweaking things in the interest of perfection can reduce the likability.

Quantizing is a thing you can do with music recording software that makes music perfect.  A majority of popular, mainstream music today is artificially perfected in this way.  They use auto-tune for vocals, virtual instruments, drum loops, synthesizers, and then they automatically align everything to be evenly spaced to a certain number of beats per minute.  To me, it’s disappointing and not very interesting or fun to listen to as compared with the old-fashioned ways of making music.  There doesn’t seem to be much room for improvisation anymore. 

“Bands” are increasingly made up of a digital keyboard player, a person with a laptop, and a singer.  It makes me yearn for the days before technology became so prevalent, when live music was a bunch of people playing real instruments.  Bands were recorded live, while all played simultaneously.  Things that would be considered “mistakes” to be corrected today were left in – and they were often happy accidents that were pleasingly imperfect and human and real. 

I personally prefer real drawings and paintings vs. works of visual art created with software.  I like to see real human actors and natural scenery in movies as opposed to computer-generated characters and imagery.  I like human-crafted physical objects vs. those manufactured by robots or 3D printers.  Imperfections are a part of what makes art beautiful.  The more you learn about music, the more you listen to music with a trained ear, and the more likely you are to hear imperfections you may not have noticed when you knew less. 

Great instrumentalists make great mistakes.  There are recorded solos by Jimi Hendrix where you can hear what you might at first think are errors, but it’s how he blends them in as if intentional, how he rebounds from them so brilliantly that you think they were there for a good reason – to send him off into a different, previously-unpredictable direction that is delightful. 

Great singers make great mistakes.  Even the greats like Elvis or Aretha or Robert Plant are able to do the same type of thing – hit some incorrect notes that might at first sound “pitchy” which they can then bend and riff into some unexpected, soaring surprises that are pleasing to the ear while still satisfyingly resolving to the home territory confines of the key the song is in. 

Similarly, great songwriters make great mistakes.  There are recorded songs by Neil Young for example, where at first I detect areas where I think I would’ve done a little editing – rewritten a few lines here and there maybe, but then I realize he did the best he could at the time, and left in things that preserved some spontaneity and freshness and character that over-editing would’ve wrecked.

Imperfections define us as much as our attributes that are closer to perfect, I suspect, and they both contribute to what makes others appreciate us.  A part of what makes me like certain musical artists more than others is their recognizable flaws because it makes them easier to relate to, I think.  We’re all human, we all make mistakes, no one is perfect, and music cannot and should not be perfect.

The greatest live music listening experience I’ve ever had was at Preservation Hall in New Orleans.  That was a real as it gets.  Old building, old music, real instruments, wood floors, close proximity to musicians, no PA system, no amplifiers, no technology, intimate.  Dixieland Jazz at it’s finest and most authentic.  Live and in your face and wonderful. Imperfections?  Yes, but great bands cover for each other, fill in gaps so well, that only musically-trained ears could detect the small flaws – astute listeners could detect them if they wanted to, but it would be hard work – and who wants to listen that intently and critically? 

The more you know about music, the more you’re able to detect flaws in music, but at the same time, the more you appreciate great music, and the more you hear past the flaws to enjoy the whole – it’s the sum of the parts that make for a great listening experience.  It’s the overall listening experience that matters – the atmosphere, the other fans in the audience, the interaction, the give and take, the banter, the reaction, the movement, the spontaneous applause, the backstory, the history.  The weaknesses in addition to the strengths are what makes an artist – and a person for that matter – likeable.

You can come up with some really cool sounds with technology that didn’t exist before nowadays, and that is by definition creative.  You can make great dance music with perfect beats.  You can fix mistakes.  These are arguably good things, but I think when computers and artificial intelligence write and record our music for us, we’ve gone too far and we’re close to that now, which means we’re in trouble.  We’ve come a long way, perhaps too long, from those important traditions of our roots.  I’d like too see the trends head back from where we are now is all.

There’s a part in the studio version of If I Fell by the Beatles – one of the best recordings of one of the best songs ever written – in which Paul McCartney screws up part of a harmony vocal and his voice cracks.  My wife Lenore loves that part of the song, and it’s actually one of her all-time favorite records to listen to as a result.  Enough said.

Big Egos and Grandiose Notions: How Songwriters Act in Times of Crisis

We’ve never seen anything quite like this in our lifetimes.  As songwriters shelter in place, they are no doubt contemplating writing, recording and releasing songs to make people feel better during a sad time for the world.  I’m not an exception. 

Instead of some sort of save the world through song, Live Aid-style thing, I’ll probably want to get out a few more songs from my bedroom here in Michigan somehow.  Maybe another album, maybe a single, maybe just hit record on the computer webcam and upload a solo performance of a new previously-unreleased original to YouTube.

When the lucky, famous, wealthy and privileged people seemingly have advantages to get tested before the rest of us regular folk, you dread the inevitable indulgent all-star jam for a worthy cause, and this cause is different.  Thankfully, you won’t get all those celebs on the same stage together for quite a while.

Don’t die with the music in you.  That’s from a t-shirt I saw a while back in a songwriter magazine.  I’ve got some good ones in progress, and some completed ones I haven’t released yet.  The thought has crossed my mind that I’ve got some risk factors, and when dead and gone, my wife won’t be able to figure out how to get my recordings of my songs off my computer and put them online, so no one will ever hear them.  Not that there’s a big demand in my case, but these are the types of thoughts that can cross our minds lately.

You can bet that the recording artists with a certain level of self-importance like that perhaps misunderstood Bono guy from U2 for example are going to record a video or house concert with a new, uplifting song, and those who were already generally annoyed by him will be more annoyed than ever.  I predict you’ll see a wave of similar popular acts and famous artists hit the internet and YouTube with something similar in the coming months, and the pretention levels will be high.  That said, it’s all good.

Whether we can relate to a sad song about loss, or feel uplifted by a song with a “stay positive, we’ll get through this” sentiment, such new music will be a welcome escape for those of us with internet connections, and for those without, at least for those who still have electricity, we’ll take solace and comfort in our old CDs and records on a home stereo of some kind, or maybe even the now-old-fashioned thing called a radio. 

In an unprecedented time when Amazon has stopped selling CDs and vinyl records, might as well take advantage of the seclusion and alone time to get inspired and “re-kindle” the creative fires.  So when you’re stuck in the house, and your guitar is there, and there’s a computer to type and record on, songwriters are going to do what they do, whether they really think their songs can truly make a difference in the world or not.

I’m no different.  If you have this hobby, you can’t help it.  It’s a way to get your feelings off your chest, and a creative outlet is a good way to spend your time instead of constantly consuming the latest sad news and living in fear.  I’m on a bit of a roll of late, having written and recorded a few new songs this year.  It’s fun, and it takes your mind off worrying about the future. 

You can’t help but wonder if your latest new inspirational song could catch on and make a difference to people by cheering them up or providing a calming influence or temporary escape from the fear.  Few can make money from writing and recording songs these days, but that’s not why you do it anyway – it’s out of pure passion.

When you think you’ve written a good one, and one that would be particularly impactful during tough times, you’re tempted to put it out as a single right away, rather than wait for enough songs to release a whole album.  You’re also tempted to just record a solo video of yourself singing and playing it live because the reality is you might not be around long enough to release that next album.

It occurs to you in times like these that you won’t be around forever, and little will remain, but maybe some of the songs will still be floating around the internet.  That’s the hope.  Long after I’m dead and gone, this little blog nobody knows about or reads might still exist, and if so, its posts will collectively tell some type of larger story about some dead guy who used to write songs and record them while he was alive.

The optimist in me believes I’ll survive, and the songwriter in me thinks it’s one of the reasons I was put on this Earth.  I seriously have this grandiose notion that it’s part of God’s plan for me – to stick around and keep putting new music out into the world.  It may be funny to some to hear that because I realize I’m not famous or even particularly good.  I’m aware I’m not a great singer or musician, but it could be that my ego is telling me I’m a decent songwriter, and that’s a part of my life’s purpose.

Praise is a strong word, but if you’ve interpreted positive feedback from people about your songs, the realist in you might chalk it up as being “kind and polite,” but your ego reassures you that it’s genuine.  If you’re at all like me, you know you have these thoughts from time to time, and that you’ve been spared so far because it’s a contribution you make, and further, that it might even be important in some way. 

When you’re confident enough to call yourself a songwriter, whether you qualify in the minds of experts or not, you keep on with it regardless of your abilities because you can pause for a while, but you can’t ever stop completely, even if all you can do is write in your head.

Indeed, I have had people tell me they enjoyed my songs before, and that fact tells me I’ve already made a small difference in people’s lives.  Just a little of that serves as fuel to keep going.  You can’t help but want to help, and writing and recording a song is a way you can help. 

It comes naturally to people like me, so you can expect that in a much smaller way, sad and pathetic as it may sound, I’ll probably be jumping on the bandwagon and joining the ranks of all these artists you’ll be getting inspirational songs from during this challenging time in the world.  We’re all going to die eventually, but it’s going to be okay.  You keep doing what you do in whatever time you have left.  Stay tuned.