TO PUT IT SIMPLY…
I think by now we’ve all heard the old adages of “don’t use a five-dollar word if a 50-cent one will do the job,” or “don’t send a ten-dollar word to do the job of a two cent one.”
I like five and ten dollar words. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’m comfortable around them. To me, they feel like home and sometimes these words might come to me before their “everyday” more “pedestrian” counterparts might. Case in point, I might be more apt to use the word “viable” than possible or “supercilious” in place of haughty, perhaps “laconic” might be more to the point than “to the point” is. I get them, I understand them, and use them freely perhaps even at times when a simpler word could’ve painted the same picture or communicated the same thought. However, as with everything else there are times when such an expansive vocabulary may not do you any good or when the insertion of a “fancy” word or term may leave you looking more like a fool than a former undefeated spelling bee champ.
I’m not talking about being embarrassed by accidently misusing or mispronouncing a word. That happens with as much frequency as a celebrity heading to rehab, all day you hear and read verbal and written misfires. I’ll probably do it at least ten times within this column entry alone. So no, it’s not the potential humiliation of being corrected by a “Grammar Nazi or” a “career scholar.”
No, what I’m referring to is when a person either purposely or unknowingly bulldozes into another person with a rapid-fire succession of S.A.T Prep Course worthy vocabulary lists posing as thoughts that they then bring to life in one poorly thought out but all too quickly vocalized sentence. It may be a sentence of literary perfection–one replete with enough connotations, allegory, and nuances that would make any English Lit Professor weep with pride—however, if you decided to impose your laudable vocabulary upon someone who you more than likely knew would not understand what you said or were about to say then playing the part of a fool serves you right.
I recently witnessed this type of scenario in its full glory in a very public scenario (more…)
“SECRETLY” CANADIAN…
So, I’ve slowly come to the conclusion that I’m secretly Canadian.
No, I’m not responsible for bringing you fantastic tunes from Antony and the Johnsons, Gardens and Villa, Here We Go Magic, jj, The War on Drugs, Yeasayer, etc. Nope, I’m not that Secretly Canadian.
Despite my new-found Canadian identity, I don’t yet have a habit of turning on a hockey game everywhere I go, nor do I know hockey stats. Although, I do actually enjoy going to hockey games and must admit that the sound of the puck and hockey sticks hitting the ice is one of my favorites, right up there with the sound of a baseball bat cracking a baseball. I just can’t sit and watch hockey on tv (surprisingly though, I can sit for hours sometimes completely engrossed in a baseball game – wonder how I’d fare watching paint dry?) . I also don’t go around measuring things in grams, kilometers, nor Celsius (9 degrees Celsius just sounds so horrible compared to the 48 degrees Fahrenheit L.A. is currently experiencing).
So why do I think I’m now a Canadian? (more…)
I UNDERSTAND…
It seems that in this day in age ruled by social media, we have turned into a nation of “relators.” A “like” indicates that you feel the same way that a poster‘s vent of the day/hour/minute or can at least sympathize. As I have stated many other times, and most recently in my post last week about “feelings setting values,” I possess no shortage of empathy. Therefore, I myself am no exception when it comes to relating.
The phrase “I know” comes out of my mouth without much thought more often than I care to share. What I mean by “I know” is not that I know everything, far from it. The day I know everything is the day I’ll figure out how to move to Mars, where I might still be challenged by having to figure out and learn new things. When I respond with my all too commonplace “I know,” what I’m truly saying is “I understand.” I can see where you’re coming from and I genuinely mean it. I am not so self-absorbed that I can’t step outside of myself to see how you are feeling. I see it all too well , possibly even before you uttered the complaint or voiced your irritation. However, for the most part I respect privacy so I won’t address it unless I feel you really might need to discuss it. More importantly I understand why you might be disgruntled, miffed, or sullen.
“I know” comes out quite easily; however, I can’t seem to make the phrase “I understand” a regular part of my vocabulary as to me it is usually those that utter that phrase that actually don’t at all get it. It’s like the older adults (more…)
THE SOUNDS IN SIGHT…
In the not too distant past, I was on a car ride with friends headed to a music festival. I was a passenger, so I was able to take in our surroundings a bit more than had I been driving. For a recent work project, a concept had been developed that needed an identity and on that morning when I got in my car to meet Lady Di, the world outside of my home, as it often does, turned into a source of inspiration full of potential ideas for this project’s identity. A blank canvas can be a dangerous thing as sometimes the possibilities can be limitless, and this was one of those days. I have these days often. Days where everything is a potential logo, color scheme, tag line, or source for an idea, spot, or pitch.
Anyhow, during the car ride conversations of all sorts flowed. As we got closer to our destination we went over a patch of rough terrain and the car tires made an interesting sound over a small stretch of the road we were on, making us all take notice. One of the other passengers, a friend of ours that is a sound editor/engineer professional for film and television made the statement that “on our trip home they’d have to record that sound for later use.”
A few weeks prior, I had run into this friend at a music show we both attended and ended up in a lengthy conversation that went well into the night (I apologize residents near that area of Silverlake Blvd. who might’ve been trying to get some sleep) about sound and the way that this person interprets the world due to their profession.
Just like I’d started my day (and continued throughout the car drive) noticing various elements that could possibly be incorporated into the identity of something that didn’t yet have one, and just like when a musician/artist is seeking a band name for his/her musical project (and everything turns into a potential band name) this person shared insight into their daily life of going through their day noticing odd sounds or even run-of-the-mill sounds that are probably lost on the rest of us, as it’s not what our focus is on. The topics of the conversations ranged from how some imperfect sounds could be perfected and the various techniques to cut out white or overpowering noises to extract just that sound they were seeking to even more technical stuff that I may never have a use for in my own life but still kept my attention. I talk to a lot of musicians who are constantly manipulating sound on a regular basis via instruments and effects, but it was nice to talk with someone at length about just sound in general. While I do have some favorite sounds, I can’t say that it was a topic that I’d given much thought to, and I found it highly interesting.
It made me think of an experiment of sound manipulation in the area of music/performance art that artistic duo Jennifer Allora & Guillermo Calzadilla had presented a few years ago, via their short entitled “Returning a Sound.” As you can see from the video below, the artists had installed an ordinary brass trumpet into the muffler of a motorcycle. So, as the motorcycle rider embarked on his journey around Vieques, Puerto Rico instead of the loud roar usually produced by the muffler a jazzier big-band like climax-building arrangement was the output. At the time I’d wondered what an orchestra of these modified-mufflers might sound like and also what would be the overall reaction of the general public were they to encounter this on a regular basis out in the world? To me the ground shaking roar of many motorcycles is one of the most obnoxious intrusive sounds that uninvitedly finds it’s way into our audio range. How would we feel about it if the noise emitted was one of the french horn instead? Would that be just as intrusive? I’m sure over time after we get past the novelty, it probably would. Although, in the beginning it might bring us to attention, bringing to mind the messengers/trumpeters of days of yore.
I know there are many innovators of sound who have tirelessly experimented with sound manipulation and have successfully amassed quite a catalog of musical compositions ranging from the theatrical to pop-tinged numbers to those that can only be described as downright silly. As a final thought, however, and seeing that since the annual Don’t Knock the Rock Music and Film Festival kicks off next week at the Silent Film Theatre I’ll leave you with a couple of film documentary recommendations if the area of composing and sound experimentation interests you. Both were part of last year’s festival.
The one that most applies to this post, which I had the pleasure of coming across was “Deconstructing Dad: The Music, Machines, and Mystery of Raymond Scott.” This is the story of Raymond Scott a gentleman who wore many hats in the world of music (musician, engineer, composer, band leader,inventor, music director). As the story goes although his bread and butter seemed to be with composing (a fact I found interesting was that he supposedly never wrote out his scores, instead demonstrated what he needed–so there was never any sheet music accompanying his creations). His passion also seemed to lie in experimenting with the electronic side of music as he went on to live a life full of innovation resulting in a few inventions for which the patents bear his name such as the Clavivox and the always a work-in-progress Electronium–which in it’s present day non-functioning state is currently owned by Mark Mothersbaugh of DEVO. Scott also employed Robert Moog early on in Moog’s career and served as a sort of inspiration for Moog Music and it’s line of Synthesizers. Despite all of his musical contributions most people would recognize his musical arrangements mostly from the early (primarily WB) cartoons (Bugs Bunny, Looney Tunes, Ren & Stimpy, Animaniacs, and later the Simpsons, etc.) to whom his music was licensed to. This film was directed by Stan Warnow, the son of Raymond Scott with whom we had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with and via conversations with him learned even more about Raymond’s Scott’s life, which really was a riveting one music-wise.
The second recommendation is the ‘The One Man Beatles.‘ This is the Emitt Rhodes story, directed by Italian Cosimo Messeri. People may recall Rhodes from the The Palace Guard, The Merry-Go Round,or possibly even the dating game. Although, I actually was familiar with Emitt Rhodes’ music, I can’t say I knew all that much about him. When I’d first moved to L.A. some friends (who happened to comprise one of my favorite bands at the time) I’d made were in the process of working with him as one of their producers and they ended up covering one of his tracks with his blessing. It wasn’t until our paths crossed at this doc’s screening that I actually got a thorough, entertaining lesson in the history of Mr.Rhodes from the man himself. That night, due to the fact that he wouldn’t sit in the theater as he didn’t want to watch himself on screen, a friend and I sat outside and chatted with him for the duration of the film, until his presence was requested for the Q&A portion of the evening. During that time I learned that he’d only been 15 years old while in the Palace Guard, and was still in high school during the time that the Merry-Go-Round was active, also writing a majority of the songs. He released his first (critically acclaimed) solo album at 20 years old, but was for the most part done with the music industry by the age of 24. The part I found most interesting during our conversation, aside from the “colorful” jokes, was his explanation of the recording process (which is also documented on his website) for that first solo album. He stated having utilized an Ampex four-track, and would always start with laying down a metronome. He also played pretty much every instrument on his albums (hence the “One Man Beatles” accolade) from the piano, to the drums (in the Palace Guard, his role was one of drummer– he’d later switch to guitar for the Merry-Go-Round), to rhythm and lead guitar, bass, and everything in between. The stories kept flowing and it was a treat to get to hear them directly from the horse’s mouth with such candor. Since that date, I have watched this doc a couple of times and think anyone who plays or has an interest in music should watch it, and if you ever have a chance to converse with Mr. Rhodes you should jump at the chance as just as much as it would fit someone like Raymond Scott, the term musical genius is not an exaggeration when it comes to offering a description for this at times overlooked talented man.
Raymond Scott image originally published here
REAL GONE – AN INTRODUCTION: ‘THIS SOUTHERN CALIFORNIAN IS GONE’
I left Long Beach, CA for San Antonio, TX with a pair of chrome painted nuts hanging on the back of my Honda Civic. My brothers got this for me as a going away gift to remind me that I’d never truly be a Texan. Neither would those balls. I lost them somewhere on the 10 between Buckeye and Wilcox.
I didn’t consult very many people on my decision to leave for Texas. I knew I was leaving a month before I actually made the move.
A month and a day before, I was still asking my cousin how in the hell she could move to Utah?
Things needed to be run away from. Things needed to be changed. I needed to shock myself out of complacency in every aspect of my life. A geographical change seemed the easiest way (still, my mind operates on a very whatever, dude wavelength).
The first thing I sought to do was to find out where the writers were. In Los Angeles we have the Poetix Calendar that tells you absolutely everything about what’s going on. It’s easy to get to an open mic every night and tell highfalutin fart jokes in the form of poetry. San Antonio has nothing that compares. I searched poetry open mics in San Antonio and found one at a bar. My hopes were high. Possibly I could be just like all those drunken legends I drunkenly made shit up about in my head and tell great poems to a crowd of drunken blue-collared sons of bitches.
When I got to the Irish bar, there was nothing but a bunch of buzz cuts drinking beer and looking at my thick rimmed glasses suspiciously. There was not an open mic. Just some dude in a cowboy hat singing country versions of rock songs that didn’t deserve it. I drank one Lone Star and got out of there.
So instead of going to bars to read and be read to, I went to bars to get drunk and watch sports. San Antonio is Spurs country and I’m a Lakers fan. If I can’t make nice to people, I play the asshole. If I can’t be loved, I want to be hated.
“A shot of Jameson, a Lone Star, and can you put the Lakers game on?”
The bartender, being from California himself, agreed with a shit-kissing grin. The Spurs game was on at the same time as the Laker game.
“Who the hell turned on this shit!?” some drunken cowboy with a cigarette stained mustache yelled out from the other side of the bar. The bartender pointed at me, but didn’t change the channel back.
The boos were loud. The Lakers were still playing.
“Another shot of Jameson, please.”
“This one’s on the house.”
I felt good. The Lakers won. I don’t know how the Spurs fared that night.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
Andrew Hilbert is a recently displaced Southern Californian living in San Antonio, TX. He will be sharing the adventures he encounters in his new habitat via his column Real Gone (to be published monthly on the second Monday of each month here on intraffik.com) He still wears his Dodgers hat and argues passionately against Spurs fans. He is one of three founders of art/poetry magazine Beggars & Cheeseburgers. One day he will own a llama or three.