Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Erik Satie - Gymnopédie No.1
Sometimes no matter how many friends you have in your life you'll come to a realization that you're completely alone. You always will be and that's okay. It's not about relationships or significant others.
It's just that no one can better understand you but you. No one quite understands your dreams. They pretend to, they sympathize and speculate with you, but you know, that one day when you finally stand on that hot Martian surface, or when you savor that moment before a speech at that long awaited awards ceremony, you'll look down.
You'll see the carefully polished floor underneath your snug fitting dress shoes, the red Martian dirt shifting under the weight of your boots, and it will just be you, your shoes, and no one else. Silence.
Above all else we seek acceptance and understanding. In the end we can only accept ourselves and understand our own condition.
I'm done.
Friday, February 17, 2017
Friday, October 7, 2016
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Classical Music
I grew up with the piano. My mom had the upright piano she grew up with at her old house transported to our humble home when I was about 4 years old. She had it tuned, painted and fixed. As a kid, anyone who played the piano was a mark of prestige to me. I was in awe and listened quietly with my sister whenever my mom played. She plays classical tunes and modern songs that I heard in the radio at the time. She also plays by ear.
As an adult, I still think piano playing is a mark of prestige, whether you were classically trained or self-taught. I learned that "classical music" is the blanket term attributed to all songs before the 20th century. We had medieval, renaissance, baroque, classical and romanticism, and then 20th and 21st century style music. This is only western music. It does not include music from other regions of the world and their vast histories.
I learned to play the piano by ear as a kid. In high school, I learned how to read sheet music and just went from there. I'm not classically trained. I guess you could say I have the best of both worlds. I played the most in high school. Other interests, college, my job... I don't play as much anymore. I still play piano and guitar when I'm inspired.
It makes me think about what people did for entertainment in the past. They had sports. They went to the beach. They hung out with friends. Only when the sun is up. At night, they went home. Without electricity, lamps were a hot commodity. Plays and concerts were a luxury that only the upper-class could afford. I imagine the demand and competition lowered the prices, allowing everyone from all walks of life to experience concertos, orchestras and operas.
When it came to classical music, the audience had to use their imagination. The pamphlets had short summaries on the scene for part of the music. The music sets the scene, evoking emotions, engrossing the audience.
But seriously, I just needed an excuse to post this Saint-Saens' The Carnival of Animals. The Aquarium, Dying Swan, and the Finale are my favorite.
I. Introduction et marche royale du lion (Introduction and Royal March of the Lion) [0:00]
II. Poules et coqs (Hens and Roosters) [1:58]
III. Hémiones - animaux véloces (Wild Asses - quick animals) [2:42]
IV. Tortues (Tortoises) [3:22]
V. L'éléphant (The Elephant) [5:24]
VI. Kangourous (Kangaroos) [6:55]
VII. Aquarium [7:51]
VIII. Personnages à longues oreilles (Characters with Long Ears) [9:58]
IX. Le coucou au fond des bois (The Cuckoo in the Depths of the Woods) [10:35]
X. Volière (Aviary) [12:40]
XI. Pianistes (Pianists) [13:52]
XII. Fossiles (Fossils) [15:15]
XIII. Le cygne (The Swan) [16:41]
XIV. Finale [19:40]
This is a famous musical suite by French composer Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921), written while on vacation in Austria in 1886. It is scored for a chamber ensemble of flute/piccolo, clarinet (B flat and C), two pianos, glass harmonica, xylophone, two violins, viola, cello and double bass - in this recording, a full orchestral string section is used, and instead of the glass harmonica, there is a glockenspiel. Saint-Saëns believed that the work was too frivolous to publish during his lifetime, and for this reason, he only gave private performances to his close friends. He left a provision for it to be published posthumously, so the Carnival of the Animals only received a formal premiere one year after the composer's death.
Each of the fourteen movements depicts a different animal, often with plenty of humour and wit.
The first is the majestic march of the king of the animals - the lion - played by strings and pianos. The low, rumbling octave figure passed between the pianos is, of course, the lion's mighty roar.
The second movement (for pianos, clarinet, violins and violas) sees hens and roosters squawking while pecking at grains on the ground. The distinctive theme played by the piano is the rooster's "cock a doodle doo" call.
Next, Tibetan wild asses - portrayed by the two pianos in unison - gallop frenetically through the scene.
In contrast, the next movement for strings and piano depicts the slow, laborious movement of tortoises. This satirical section takes its main theme from the famous Galop infernal (or the can-can) in Offenbach's "Orpheus in the Underworld" - but it is played exceedingly slowly.
Then, the double bass and piano play a pompous, heavy-handed dance for the elephant. The thematic material derives from the scherzo in Mendelssohn's incidental music to "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and the ballet of the sylphs in Berlioz's "The Damnation of Faust".
The brief sixth movement sees two pianos play an abrupt, bouncy figure depicting hopping kangaroos.
Next, we find ourselves inside the shimmering water of an aquarium full of graceful fish. This movement is played by strings, pianos, flute, and glockenspiel. The pianos play a high rolling ostinato - one in decuplets and the other in sextuplets.
There follows a short movement for violins that sound like braying donkeys; perhaps Saint-Saëns meant the donkeys to represent asinine music critics.
Next, the pianos and an offstage clarinet play a slow movement where a cuckoo's call breaks the quiet of the woods.
The tenth movement for flute, piano and strings depicts an aviary abuzz with quiet activity, over which a tropical bird (the flute) sings a melody full of trills and scales.
Then, we see a very different type of animal - pianists (who, after all, are primates). The two pianists awkwardly practice scale patterns similar to those found in Hanon exercises. The whole time, they stumble over notes and break unison - evidently they need more practice.
Three loud unresolved chords lead into the next movement for strings, pianos, clarinet and xylophone, depicting fossils. The hollow sound of the xylophone evokes bones clacking together. The melody is from Saint-Saëns' "Danse macabre", the dance of skeletons. Other musical allusions in this movement include "Ah! vous dirai-je, Maman" (a.k.a. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"), "Partant pour la Syrie", the nursery rhymes "Au clair de la lune" and "J'ai du bon tabac", and a snippet from the aria "Una voce poco fa" from Rossini's "The Barber of Seville". The series of allusions is itself a musical joke, since these old tunes are cultural fossils.
The penultimate movement played by the cello and pianos shows the graceful gliding of a swan over a rippling lake. This very well-known section has become a stand-alone staple of the cello repertoire as well as the brief Fokine ballet "The Dying Swan".
Last comes the finale for the full ensemble, where themes from previous movements are reprised and combined to close the suite with excitement and panache.
Pianists: Vivian Troon, Roderick Elms
Conductor: Andrea Licata
Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
I'm done.
As an adult, I still think piano playing is a mark of prestige, whether you were classically trained or self-taught. I learned that "classical music" is the blanket term attributed to all songs before the 20th century. We had medieval, renaissance, baroque, classical and romanticism, and then 20th and 21st century style music. This is only western music. It does not include music from other regions of the world and their vast histories.
I learned to play the piano by ear as a kid. In high school, I learned how to read sheet music and just went from there. I'm not classically trained. I guess you could say I have the best of both worlds. I played the most in high school. Other interests, college, my job... I don't play as much anymore. I still play piano and guitar when I'm inspired.
It makes me think about what people did for entertainment in the past. They had sports. They went to the beach. They hung out with friends. Only when the sun is up. At night, they went home. Without electricity, lamps were a hot commodity. Plays and concerts were a luxury that only the upper-class could afford. I imagine the demand and competition lowered the prices, allowing everyone from all walks of life to experience concertos, orchestras and operas.
When it came to classical music, the audience had to use their imagination. The pamphlets had short summaries on the scene for part of the music. The music sets the scene, evoking emotions, engrossing the audience.
But seriously, I just needed an excuse to post this Saint-Saens' The Carnival of Animals. The Aquarium, Dying Swan, and the Finale are my favorite.
I. Introduction et marche royale du lion (Introduction and Royal March of the Lion) [0:00]
II. Poules et coqs (Hens and Roosters) [1:58]
III. Hémiones - animaux véloces (Wild Asses - quick animals) [2:42]
IV. Tortues (Tortoises) [3:22]
V. L'éléphant (The Elephant) [5:24]
VI. Kangourous (Kangaroos) [6:55]
VII. Aquarium [7:51]
VIII. Personnages à longues oreilles (Characters with Long Ears) [9:58]
IX. Le coucou au fond des bois (The Cuckoo in the Depths of the Woods) [10:35]
X. Volière (Aviary) [12:40]
XI. Pianistes (Pianists) [13:52]
XII. Fossiles (Fossils) [15:15]
XIII. Le cygne (The Swan) [16:41]
XIV. Finale [19:40]
This is a famous musical suite by French composer Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921), written while on vacation in Austria in 1886. It is scored for a chamber ensemble of flute/piccolo, clarinet (B flat and C), two pianos, glass harmonica, xylophone, two violins, viola, cello and double bass - in this recording, a full orchestral string section is used, and instead of the glass harmonica, there is a glockenspiel. Saint-Saëns believed that the work was too frivolous to publish during his lifetime, and for this reason, he only gave private performances to his close friends. He left a provision for it to be published posthumously, so the Carnival of the Animals only received a formal premiere one year after the composer's death.
Each of the fourteen movements depicts a different animal, often with plenty of humour and wit.
The first is the majestic march of the king of the animals - the lion - played by strings and pianos. The low, rumbling octave figure passed between the pianos is, of course, the lion's mighty roar.
The second movement (for pianos, clarinet, violins and violas) sees hens and roosters squawking while pecking at grains on the ground. The distinctive theme played by the piano is the rooster's "cock a doodle doo" call.
Next, Tibetan wild asses - portrayed by the two pianos in unison - gallop frenetically through the scene.
In contrast, the next movement for strings and piano depicts the slow, laborious movement of tortoises. This satirical section takes its main theme from the famous Galop infernal (or the can-can) in Offenbach's "Orpheus in the Underworld" - but it is played exceedingly slowly.
Then, the double bass and piano play a pompous, heavy-handed dance for the elephant. The thematic material derives from the scherzo in Mendelssohn's incidental music to "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and the ballet of the sylphs in Berlioz's "The Damnation of Faust".
The brief sixth movement sees two pianos play an abrupt, bouncy figure depicting hopping kangaroos.
Next, we find ourselves inside the shimmering water of an aquarium full of graceful fish. This movement is played by strings, pianos, flute, and glockenspiel. The pianos play a high rolling ostinato - one in decuplets and the other in sextuplets.
There follows a short movement for violins that sound like braying donkeys; perhaps Saint-Saëns meant the donkeys to represent asinine music critics.
Next, the pianos and an offstage clarinet play a slow movement where a cuckoo's call breaks the quiet of the woods.
The tenth movement for flute, piano and strings depicts an aviary abuzz with quiet activity, over which a tropical bird (the flute) sings a melody full of trills and scales.
Then, we see a very different type of animal - pianists (who, after all, are primates). The two pianists awkwardly practice scale patterns similar to those found in Hanon exercises. The whole time, they stumble over notes and break unison - evidently they need more practice.
Three loud unresolved chords lead into the next movement for strings, pianos, clarinet and xylophone, depicting fossils. The hollow sound of the xylophone evokes bones clacking together. The melody is from Saint-Saëns' "Danse macabre", the dance of skeletons. Other musical allusions in this movement include "Ah! vous dirai-je, Maman" (a.k.a. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"), "Partant pour la Syrie", the nursery rhymes "Au clair de la lune" and "J'ai du bon tabac", and a snippet from the aria "Una voce poco fa" from Rossini's "The Barber of Seville". The series of allusions is itself a musical joke, since these old tunes are cultural fossils.
The penultimate movement played by the cello and pianos shows the graceful gliding of a swan over a rippling lake. This very well-known section has become a stand-alone staple of the cello repertoire as well as the brief Fokine ballet "The Dying Swan".
Last comes the finale for the full ensemble, where themes from previous movements are reprised and combined to close the suite with excitement and panache.
Pianists: Vivian Troon, Roderick Elms
Conductor: Andrea Licata
Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
I'm done.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Jon Batiste Performs 'Blackbird'
In honor of the release of The Late Show EP and the 52nd Anniversary of The Beatles' performance at the Ed Sullivan Theater, Jon Batiste performs "Blackbird."
Monday, August 25, 2014
Proteus PSN Review – A New Journey
I recently played Proteus for PS3. I didn't think I'd like it because of the graphics. I was wrong.
Originally posted on Metro:
Another indie classic makes the move from PC to console but is Proteus an interactive experience on the scale of Journey or just a pretentious non-game?
The term ‘non-game’ is not one you hear much nowadays. Very popular a few years ago, especially as a term of abuse, it was applied to everything from Brain Training to Wii Fit, as well as many an indie download. Perhaps some gamers meant for it to imply a general state of worthlessness but it always seemed a perfectly reasonable and non-derogatory description to us. Whatever way you look at it Proteus is not a traditional video game, but it is a fascinating interactive experience nonetheless.
Perhaps the best way to describe Proteus is as Oblivion without the gameplay. And without the attempt at photorealistic graphics. Or indeed the mammoth play length. Proteus uses a much simpler form of procedurally generated visuals, but despite their abstract nature there’s an undeniable beauty to the island world in which you find yourself. A huge sun looms over you like a protective sunflower, bathing light on the fractal geometry that recalls the magic of 8-bit graphics – and yet still allows for a fully explore-able 3D world.
And if there is any goal to Proteus it is exploration. As you emerge from the ocean and into the game world you’re given no backstory or princess to save, and it’s entirely up to you where you go and what significance you choose to apply to the strangely empty buildings and quasi-alien fauna and flora. Do the animals look odd just because of the graphics or are they a hint that Proteus is meant to take place somewhere specifically not of this Earth? Is the nonsense sense of scale, where trees are gigantic but mountains can be climbed in moments, an accident or intentional?
The visuals have a haunting beauty of their own but it’s the music which is the key to the game’s secrets, and the majority of its interactivity. Simply by moving you add to the strange, otherworldy soundtrack but it also changes on its own depending on the time of day, the weather, and the season. Animals and plants make their own sounds – sometimes pleasant, sometimes not – and they in turn react to your presence.
Chasing strange 8-bit butterflies and watching pastel-coloured flowers bloom into life is as action-packed as Proteus gets but, much like Flower and Journey, it’s hugely compelling nevertheless. Soon or later you work out how to advance the seasons, and continuing to do so will bring an end to the game within about an hour.
There’s still no way to win (or lose) but the short playing time ensures the experience can never outstay its welcome, and when you do play again the randomly-generated landscape will be completely different (almost – the PlayStation 3 version use the time and location to generate its worlds so it is technically possible to see the same place twice).
This seems an odd new feature though as it appears to contradict the game’s deeper themes about the impact of man on the environment and the unavoidable progress of time. And if you resent applying those themes to the real world they seem all the more relevant when you consider how you usually interact with video game worlds.
Proteus’ island may be small and roughly formed compared to other games but because you’re unable to shoot or race anyone you’re given the excuse to simply enjoy the virtual landscape for what it is, and wonder at how it came to be and what it really represents. There are gameplay mechanics in Proteus but its main form of interaction is between its audio and visuals and your imagination.
With Grand Theft Auto V still fresh in everyone’s minds, and the Christmas games rush in full flow, Proteus seems much more relevant now than when originally released on PC earlier this year. But even if you enjoy its enigmatic charms the obvious complaint is that it’s too expensive for such a short experience. You can keep replying on different islands but it has to be admitted that your first time is always the best.
But Journey was short too, and although Proteus doesn’t have quite the accessibility and structure of that game (and Journey definitely was a game) it’s an experience that will stay with you just as long.
In Short: Many will argue as to whether it’s a ‘real’ game or not, but Proteus’ ability to stimulate your imagination and your senses makes it a more satisfyingly interactive experience than many.
Pros: Mesmerising visuals and cleverly interactive soundtrack create a game world unlike any other, hinting at deep secrets – both physical and metaphorical.
Cons: It has very few of the elements that make a traditional video game and a single walkthrough lasts no more than an hour – which makes the high price harder to justify.
I'm done.
Originally posted on Metro:
Proteus (PS3) - Mystery Island
Another indie classic makes the move from PC to console but is Proteus an interactive experience on the scale of Journey or just a pretentious non-game?
The term ‘non-game’ is not one you hear much nowadays. Very popular a few years ago, especially as a term of abuse, it was applied to everything from Brain Training to Wii Fit, as well as many an indie download. Perhaps some gamers meant for it to imply a general state of worthlessness but it always seemed a perfectly reasonable and non-derogatory description to us. Whatever way you look at it Proteus is not a traditional video game, but it is a fascinating interactive experience nonetheless.
Perhaps the best way to describe Proteus is as Oblivion without the gameplay. And without the attempt at photorealistic graphics. Or indeed the mammoth play length. Proteus uses a much simpler form of procedurally generated visuals, but despite their abstract nature there’s an undeniable beauty to the island world in which you find yourself. A huge sun looms over you like a protective sunflower, bathing light on the fractal geometry that recalls the magic of 8-bit graphics – and yet still allows for a fully explore-able 3D world.
And if there is any goal to Proteus it is exploration. As you emerge from the ocean and into the game world you’re given no backstory or princess to save, and it’s entirely up to you where you go and what significance you choose to apply to the strangely empty buildings and quasi-alien fauna and flora. Do the animals look odd just because of the graphics or are they a hint that Proteus is meant to take place somewhere specifically not of this Earth? Is the nonsense sense of scale, where trees are gigantic but mountains can be climbed in moments, an accident or intentional?
The visuals have a haunting beauty of their own but it’s the music which is the key to the game’s secrets, and the majority of its interactivity. Simply by moving you add to the strange, otherworldy soundtrack but it also changes on its own depending on the time of day, the weather, and the season. Animals and plants make their own sounds – sometimes pleasant, sometimes not – and they in turn react to your presence.
Chasing strange 8-bit butterflies and watching pastel-coloured flowers bloom into life is as action-packed as Proteus gets but, much like Flower and Journey, it’s hugely compelling nevertheless. Soon or later you work out how to advance the seasons, and continuing to do so will bring an end to the game within about an hour.
Proteus (PS3) - the changing of the seasons
There’s still no way to win (or lose) but the short playing time ensures the experience can never outstay its welcome, and when you do play again the randomly-generated landscape will be completely different (almost – the PlayStation 3 version use the time and location to generate its worlds so it is technically possible to see the same place twice).
This seems an odd new feature though as it appears to contradict the game’s deeper themes about the impact of man on the environment and the unavoidable progress of time. And if you resent applying those themes to the real world they seem all the more relevant when you consider how you usually interact with video game worlds.
Proteus’ island may be small and roughly formed compared to other games but because you’re unable to shoot or race anyone you’re given the excuse to simply enjoy the virtual landscape for what it is, and wonder at how it came to be and what it really represents. There are gameplay mechanics in Proteus but its main form of interaction is between its audio and visuals and your imagination.
With Grand Theft Auto V still fresh in everyone’s minds, and the Christmas games rush in full flow, Proteus seems much more relevant now than when originally released on PC earlier this year. But even if you enjoy its enigmatic charms the obvious complaint is that it’s too expensive for such a short experience. You can keep replying on different islands but it has to be admitted that your first time is always the best.
But Journey was short too, and although Proteus doesn’t have quite the accessibility and structure of that game (and Journey definitely was a game) it’s an experience that will stay with you just as long.
In Short: Many will argue as to whether it’s a ‘real’ game or not, but Proteus’ ability to stimulate your imagination and your senses makes it a more satisfyingly interactive experience than many.
Pros: Mesmerising visuals and cleverly interactive soundtrack create a game world unlike any other, hinting at deep secrets – both physical and metaphorical.
Cons: It has very few of the elements that make a traditional video game and a single walkthrough lasts no more than an hour – which makes the high price harder to justify.
I'm done.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Buying/Pirating Music
This has been plaguing me since I started using the Internet and found a way to download music for free through Napster. Since then, the only times I've gone out of my way to legally buy music CDs is if they are collectibles (Videogame music) and artists I actually support. Then the iPod came along, followed by the iTunes Store.
But sometimes you find a new artist and really love their craft. I can't bring myself to download their entire music catalog for free, yet slightly torn on the idea of buying them all.
What's your stance on this?
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Dinosaurs Forgot About Dre w/ Guns
I saw this anime music video at Otakon 2013. It was one of the finalists for the action category. The Cyberoptix remix to "Dinosaurs with Guns" sounded a lot like the beat hook to "Forgot About Dre." It would be cool if someone remixed the songs together. I looked online and couldn't find one. I've never done any professional-like audio mixing, but this had to be done.
It took a while to find the vocals only track to Forgot about Dre. I was looking for the instrumental version of Dinosaurs with Guns Cyberoptix remix, but I couldn't find it. I tried isolating the music only, but the vocal track is too synthesized for my software to remove it. I think it worked out okay leaving that song as it is.
I did the remix. It's a rough cut, but it's what I needed. Hopefully you EDM DJs out there can make a better version of this mix.
I'm done.
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