Chris Preston and New Aquarius Online

“I’ve got a fever, and the only prescription… is more cowbell!”

Quotes from the SNL sketch starring Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken have leaked mercilessly into popular culture, but I’d gather that few ever consider the degree of truth in them. Little percussion instruments can often add the polish that turns a recording of a song into a great record.

Since this is my 100th post on the New Aquarius blog, I thought I’d do something special. Let’s listen together, shall we? Here are some of my favorite recordings on which I feel that percussion really makes the record.

(Since they are used to demonstrate my points, I believe the clips I provide here represent “fair use.” So don’t be coming at me like a copyright spider monkey. I don’t have a player installed on this server, so I hope whatever program you have on your system to play mp3 files also plays these.)

“She’s Gone” by Daryl Hall and John Oates – The intro has eighth notes of wood block on beat one of each measure, doubling the bass figure. To me, it represents the ticking clock in the quiet empty hours experienced by the singer since the woman in the lyric has left him. There even appears to be a mistake in the pattern, which is wonderfully human.

“D’Yer Mak’er” by Led Zeppelin -  Afuche cabasa is used to accent the stilted rhythm. Once you notice it, you’ll never hear the record the same way again. Led Zeppelin can’t do reggae, but they know how to fill up a weak beat. It’s on the upbeat of 2 and 4.

“Day By Day” from the Godspell Original Motion Picture Soundtrack – Though the effect of percussion is apparent to some extent on the cast album, the movie soundtrack version of this tune uses percussion wonderfully to build intensity and then provide catharsis. I’ve played the Godspell bass book a number of times. This piece repeats the chorus over and over, but with added percussion every time though. First it’s quarter notes on tambourine on beats 2 and 4, then with straight sixteenths twice through, followed by the entrance at the next cycle of the entire drum set. This development always has an amazing emotional effect on me. My heart leaps every time I hear it, even though I’ve heard it literally thousands of times. This clip is from the movie itself, as I don’t have a copy of the soundtrack album handy.

“Make Me Smile” by Chicago – On this cut from Chicago II, the horn segment before the guitar solo (on the album version, not the chopped up single version) uses a similar cyclical building of percussion every time through, only instead of changing the pattern like in “Day By Day,” another instrument is added first. Initially, it’s tambourine on the left in sixteenths. The next time through, it sounds like maracas added on the right in quarters, held in one hand or used as one percussion instrument in both hands. The recording always sounds to me like the maracas are plastic instead of wood, which I personally might not have chosen to use, but work very well here. Notice how the maracas accelerate to sixteenths with the guitar solo.

“Never Been To Spain” by Elvis Presley This rather obscure reference is from the 1972 album Elvis As Recorded Live at Madison Square Garden. This song was a hit for Three Dog Night, which was probably good enough for Elvis, but I thought the subtle use of percussion here warranted mention. The songs starts with a vocal, followed by a very sparse pulse-like arrangement that works more like a question and answer. On this particular recording, the first appearance of a castanet part appears in measure two, on the upbeat of beat two. It’s a very subtle but highly effective musical enforcement of the Spanish idea in the lyric. Just a sixteenth note triplet followed by another sixteenth on beat three. This pattern repeats on every other measure and disappears almost as soon as it appeared. Less is more.

“Mono Is King” by me! – This was the title track off my first record. The instrument I used was a ratchet, which is this V-shaped object that places slats of wood against a cog  that you turn with a crank to get the sound. Use of this instrument was more instinctive than by design. I just thought those rim whacks on the snare drum at the top of that ascending figure needed something else. Maybe it was my way of evoking a scratchy vaudevillian flavor to which the bounciness of the tune lent itself. It’s still my favorite part of the arrangement because of how well the effect works.

“Superstition” by Stevie Wonder – Many people are aware that ol’ Stevland played drums on this, but you may not have noticed the overdubs. Stevie must have thought hi-hat needed to do more for the feel, so he added another one. This is a lot harder to hear, but in this clip, the original hi-hat is on the right with the rest of the drum kit. The open hi-hat overdub appears about halfway through on the left. Now try to think of this record without it. It’s not all clavinet, you know?

“Walking On The Moon” by the Police – This record featured the now legendary Stewart Copeland hi-hat overdubs.  They execute the ethereal nature of the production to a T. It could never be performed this way live, because Copeland has only two hands, but the extra hi-hats really help get the point of tune across. Toss in some delay and you get polyrhythms for days! Despite it’s improbability in the real world ensemble, it was an ingenious arrangement decision, I think.

“Born To Run” by Bruce Springsteen – The E Street Band is so huge that it’s difficult to play anything in that band that someone else isn’t already playing. To add an amazing sparkle to the top of the arrangement, key melodic figures played on piano or guitar could also appear simultaneously a few octaves higher on glockenspiel. Glockenspiel works well to cut through the cacophony of marching bands, so why not an equally huge rock band? (I’ve used the trick myself. I played the bell chime melody on glock on “It’s Christmas (Let It Touch You).”)  On “Born To Run” and many other tracks, such as “Hungry Heart” and “Something In The Night,” glockenspiel makes the music sound nothing short of majestic to my ear. Live, the late Danny Federici would often play these parts on celeste, a keyboard instrument in which the keys activate hammers that strike high-pitched metal disks. Here’s a sample of all three tunes.

“Nowhere To Run” by Martha & the Vandellas – Speaking of running… On this record, a chain is actually used as a percussion instrument. Where? Check the upbeat of 3. Clinking away, it sounds like it’s rhythmically being dropped from hand to hand. Awesome.

“Living In Sin” by Gene Simmons – This song appears on the 1978 solo album, Gene Simmons. The tune starts a low pitched drumbeat. You can hear the drums resonating and it’s very fat. But the real motion of the figure is handled by sandpaper blocks, rubbing together in an eighth note pattern on the left. After the whole band comes in, they’re still there if you listen closely. Without this bit of percussion tastiness, the recording would have been very different.

That’s all I have for now. Can you think of any others? Get out your headphones and lay them on me. Until then, remember that your record isn’t truly finished until the percussion toys come out!

I had a birthday this week. (Aquarius) I enjoy birthdays and believe that we all have a right to make the most of our own personal holiday once a year. I’ve always felt that way. I was surprised that no one picked up on this fact when I was in high school and was absent on the same day every year. In fact, staying home on my birthday was probably the only luxury that being an honors student ever afforded me. It was the only time that I assumed some sense of entitlement with my mother, who never objected to my refusal to waste a birthday at school.

I spent this year’s holiday quietly with my family. I used the time to be my usual introspective self. After some consideration, I’ve determined that still, in a rotating sense of perspective, I want out, I want in, I must stop and I must begin. I won’t detail the specifics of each item here, but I was pleased to discover this time that I also have a number of things, as I scream headlong into a lifetime spanning two score years, that I have absolutely no desire to change. This is a departure from the customary list of resolutions that often stares back at me post-birthday and it pleases me a great deal. It shows that I’m living with purpose and enjoying the rewards of my conviction.

Having tacked on another year, it occurs to me today that to live a memorable and remarkable life requires not greatness but engagement. To be involved. The greatness that I long believed was the goal is merely the result. Engagement is the goal. Action. The goal must be pursued daily, even hourly. It is folly to aspire to engagement over a long period of time, such as a year. It makes greatness elusive, something for which there will always be time. In truth, a lifetime of countless moments of engagement is in and of itself one of achievement, value and greatness. These moments must be countless. Their numbers are our only defense against time that cannot be frozen and hours than can never be relived.

I thought of this while watching a video of Todd Rundgren performing one of my favorite songs. I believe the clip to be a sublime piece. For a moment, I allowed myself to become melancholy about it, since no performance by Todd at which I’ve ever been present has come close to what this clip seems to capture. I’m too young to have been there in 1978 and a great number of things have changed since then. However, I don’t believe that the moment in this video could have been planned. It only exists because of engagement, the pursuit of significant moments that, however unexamined at the time of their occurrence, as a gestalt may amount to something that can be called great.

My birthday gift to myself then, is greatness that defines itself. In realizing that I have things that I would not change, I’m already in motion. I have only to pursue the small piece of ground illuminated by my headlights, the precious few feet that in time will surely add up to a remarkable life’s journey if I do not gaze beyond, and miss them.

Rush hour music, indeed.

Peter Guralnick wrote an exhaustive, two-volume biography of Elvis Presley. I read Last Train to Memphis: The Rise of Elvis Presley when it was first published, but I’ve only gotten to the second one, Careless Love: The Unmaking of Elvis Presley, now. Unlike many people, I enjoy the 70s Elvis more than the early one. I know he was troubled and I know now just how troubled, but I just like the music and the show better late in his career.

Since the guy was said to have died by the time I was in first grade, I only know of the Elvis show what I’ve seen in the few concert movies that exist from the 70s era. I love the theatrical aspect of it and I just love the sound of that glorious band, raw in their sophistication, if you can dig that.

However, the more I read of this book, the more I’m struck by how different Elvis had it than I do. Sometimes, I just have to laugh. I know the guy was super huge and everything, but if you put that aside for a minute, as a recording artist, the guy had it so easy.

The book is full of references to recording sessions during which upwards of 24 masters were recorded. 24! How many times did I read stuff like this? “In August, a recording session was scheduled for which RCA hoped sides would be produced for the gospel album, a pop album and the four singles Elvis was contractually obligated to provide.”

All the guy had to do was go to the studio and sing. The band was assembled. He’d pick songs that he liked and they’d run through them if he felt like it. Other times, he would just give karate demonstrations to the musicians and then go back to Graceland. If he cut a tune that they hadn’t planned on, their guy would hustle to arrange the publishing particulars. Or, it would be, “Hey publishing guy, what kind of material do we have available to record?”

Good Christ. That’s gotta be a tough life.

I write songs, play and sing all the parts in the studio, engineer and mix the recording, review the test pressings, oversee the production and then promote and sell the records myself. That’s what a majority of recording artists have to do now. There’s very little money and you have to know how to do pretty much everything if you want to see your vision through. And it takes a little longer than a single recording session.

Sometimes I see singers in bands and I say, “You mean all the guy has to do is sing?” Elvis wouldn’t even do that sometimes. At Elvis Presley’s level, it was all the bread changing hands, but in the rest of the world, in the modern age, I have no idea what breeds that mentality when it exists.

I’ve had to train myself not to do everything. I came up knowing that no one would ever hand me anything and that if I wanted to make records, no one was going to make it happen but me. I’ve never felt that I had the right to claim something was outside of my expertise. Deep down I thought, “Who the hell are you to think anyone else would do it for you just because you can’t?”

It’s a slow process, learning to let go of certain things. It began with me saying that I don’t have to play the drums. I Ebayed my drums some years ago and got a nice new Telecaster, which in the distant past would have been an indulgence I’d have never allowed myself, since I had one Tele already. I’ve regretted not having my drum set a few times, but I still think I did the right thing. The other thing I’ve tried to loosen up about is graphic design. I’m not a designer, but I did my own album covers, because “who the hell else is gonna do it?” I’ve since tried to leave that to some designer friends.

I don’t want to get to a point where all I have to do is show up and sing. Of that, I’m certain. But for all of the legends surrounding Elvis Presley and the way he’s been deified over the years, I can honestly say that I know a ton of people, myself included, that he’ll never have anything on. Pfft… you mean all he has to do is sing?

That’s kinda cool.