Day 5: Keys 37:88:78


I used to collect keys. They look cool, they don’t take up a huge amount of space, and there’s endless variety. Given I have limited space I don’t have as much of a passion for it anymore. Eventually, I want a wall of keys.

Between my iRig and my M-AUDIO I have 125 keys. That’s a good start. Could say that with my laptop keyboard I have another 78. 203, excluding any house keys.


I spent more time on one instrument yesterday. This time, rather than throwing down notes I started wondering how I could change how it could sound.

So I started looking at a few options. All of the following can be found in this tutorial.

  • Attack
  • Reverb
  • Room
  • Gain

At what percentage does this sound good? Terrible? Do I even hear a difference?

I know what kind of sound I want. Describing it is often difficult because although I feel the same way about sounds as I feel about colours and tastes and touch, I don’t always have the words or bridge for them. Partially because identifying each note in a piece feels like identifying individual ingredients in a recipe, or individual chemical components. I can, but it doesn’t give us the full picture of how they interact. Saying “I’m making a curry” is different to “I’m making a garam masala-ginger-garlic-turmeric-fennel-chili-cinnamon-cardamom-coconut milk-tomato base.” Or whatever ingredients work for you.

The thing is that once I start getting into it, it’s fun twiddling around the sounds and listening to what sounds good to me, but I still need to do more research. I don’t just want to find the sounds I want. I want to be sure that I understand what makes it that way, rather than “I clicked things until this happened and it’s fine.” That’s not learning so much as accidentally a piece. Technically it’s random element, but perhaps a bit too random to me.


It’s not so hard to open Ableton as it was, and changing around the attack, the velocity,  the room an instrument is in, is pretty sweet. It’s like trying to create the taste of an apple synthetically. You won’t get an absolute spot on match to all apples, but you can get an approximation of that organic experience. That said, occasionally when you get an apple that tastes exactly like synthetic apple flavour, it’s a trip.

In this case it would be hearing a grand piano in a room. I wanted it to sound a bit more like the piano I grew up listening to. My room is right over the study where my dad practices piano, and I would go to sleep at night hearing that. It was lovely. I may not get it exactly right, but a little reverb in a constant hall, bringing down the hardness and a few other options makes all the difference.

I haven’t finalised all settings yet, but I will share fully when I have.

In the mean time, what kind of keys do you have?





Day 4: Paper and Programs

There was a rehearsal mixup for a recording project in February (more details soon) and so I had the evening to get all the things done. In theory.

Did I get it all done? Regrettably, no, but ticked off a few boxes on the ol’ Habitica app. I could beat myself up about how I only do things if I gamify them, or I could accept that that’s how I work and run with it, and not waste time berating myself. Work in progress.

(Disclaimer: I don’t have any affiliation with Habitica, and it’s free. I think it’s useful to share what works for me. It would be nice if I ever got paid to promote anything but I will disclose if that ever becomes the case.)

So, I mentioned how I got frustrated with how I throw notes down at random. Something that happens frequently when I don’t know what I’m doing. Standard pattern of try, get frustrated, not know enough to correct, drop it. Project goes stale and clogs up your computer.

Back up. Back up more. Step away from the computer.

Get a pad of paper and a marker. Or pen. Whatever is comfortable.

Make a broad strokes plan. Sections. Wireframe it out.

If you need to, rip up that page and do another. Thrash it out until it flows.

If you don’t know enough about a program, you can work with what you already know. If all you know is how to put down an overall structure on paper, do that. If you can’t do that, look at examples on the internet.

Similar to sculpture, you don’t start with your intended rock. You start small with wax or clay and work out all the kinks there. Same principle can apply.

The other reason I have to do this is I have one laptop with a 13-inch monitor. There isn’t a lot of visual space to work with and I like to have the work open next to me. I have a miniature easel which I prop the manuscript book on, then I can scan it while I work. It helps.

On a practical note, I’m still on MIDI. I  did connect up my little iRig keys to the system, which has honestly been the most useful little add-on to writing music. It’s small, it’s lightweight and has a few nice little options for working things out quickly. Working out the chords for what I want takes a bit of trial and error and changing around the chord structure has more of an impact on what actually sounds good than the original theme.

For tutorials, I’ve been following Michael New and Marks Piano – PGN Piano. Both very clear, concise and worth a follow if you’re either trying to learn or refresh your memory.

I’ve also been trying to practice the first book of the Mikrokosmos by Bartók (download link to the book). Despite what people seem to think, I never learned piano. I couldn’t generate interest in it, partially because my father teaches it. Now that I am trying to play what is in my head, suddenly I have much  more drive to get it right. So I leave these tutorials on even in the background while I’m doing other stuff, and then try to rewatch them where possible. Some of it is sinking in.


(Writing note: not sure I’ve figured out any consistent style and am currently just rolling with a diary format. After the beast of yesterday, probably best to keep this one snappy.)


Day 3: Why? How?

Two questions that can often present a barrier to learning or improving:

Why am I doing this?

How does this relate to that?

Those questions often have subtext in my experience.

Why am I doing this? often translates to What is the payoff?

How does this relate to that? often translates as How do I relate this to something that matters to me? 

The question of worth and what matters is subjective and often poorly formed in our minds. There’s always the image of yourself as the end product. Smarter, better, slicker, and yet the same age and with the same daily activities, if you even think of those factors. The end image that we have in our heads might not even be true or what we actually want. This is a really good article on the subject, but grab a coffee before you start reading. Specifically it discusses techniques for unmasking yearnings in your life and how they interact. Image from the article:


Fundamentally both questions boil down to is it worth it?

We can’t offer anything except platitudinal assurances to anybody else, because we don’t know how those different values are balanced.

Defining goals is tough. Interrogating your hopes and wants is deeply uncomfortable. Neither of those facts constitute an excuse not to do both.

Setting goals for this challenge didn’t work until I started using my day job to inform my work. Why is that? Because in my job, the work gets done. Why does it get done?

Aside from the fact that I am not currently an independently wealthy person, and need the job, the why and how are answered. Why am I doing this? has a clear answer.  You build in a specific way because it works best with an existing architecture. Music, despite its fluidity, does have architecture and can be addressed in those terms.

How does this relate to that? also has a clear answer. Structurally. It’s not just applicable in databases, or cooking, or even carpentry. All of which I have worked at. It’s because you break a task down into smaller bits that make sense.  You identify the thing you will need first. You work out how long it will reasonably take you to do that, before you can move on to the next milestone.

In music, you have some flexibility on determining your milestones, but I do quibble that certain ones need to happen in order. Whether you think that a melody or beat needs to come first, or lyrics, or understanding of a system, that’s what works for your process. I’m not here to dictate that. What I am here to quibble (somewhat) is how we perceive each.

I propose the following:

  1. Concept
  2. Lyrics/Mood/Theme
  3. Instrumentation
  4. Recording
  5. Arrangement
  6. Mixing
  7. Mastering
  8. Releasing

As a basic layout that’s fine, provided you never care that anybody hears it. Concurrently you need to be working on marketing, collaboration, release venues, dates, cutoff times, studio time if you can fit or afford it, flagging any external professionals you may need (engineers, promoters, publicists, etc). As well as that, you better have budgeted for the track costs alone, before you get to video/promo shoots/publicity/event costs if you decide on any or all of those.

All of these elements are great. When positioned next to a why, they make sense.

Hey, do you want to learn accounting? No? Because it’ll help you structure  your earnings, so you can actually afford new equipment or repairs for your instrument/physio you couldn’t afford.

Do you want to learn the physics of sound? No? Well, it will probably make your beats sound bigger and actually like a real drum, not stock, to give one example.

Do you want to know about chord structures? No? Good luck.

The point is that taking any of these elements in isolation of the bigger goal is myopic. Focusing on how boring the individual tasks are, even though I do it all the time, is counterproductive.

With all that in mind I’ve psyched myself up to work on this better, even if I still have difficulty grasping many, many concepts.

There’s a Bojack Horseman monologue that really kicks the aspiration side of me in the teeth. It’s Princess Carolyn, one of the more driven characters in the programme.

Princess: You want to know what I do when I have a really bad, awful, terrible day? I imagine my great-great-granddaughter in the future talking to the class about me. She’s poised and funny, and tells people about me and about how everything worked out in the end. And when I think about that, I think about how everything’s going to work out. Because how else could she tell people?

Bojack: But it’s…fake.

Princess: Yeah, well, it makes me feel better.

Why did I choose to bring you down to my level? Because this is what it is when you let your aspirations remain aspirations, in your head, and don’t take the steps. Often painfully small, slow, dull steps, to even approach where you want to be. Because it’s easier to remain one or the other and not be in between. A thing or not a thing. Stepping into the bridge between the two is horrible and you feel stupid. Most of the time.

Because we can’t guarantee a payoff. Nobody can.

So, I’ll tell you how you can circumvent that and keep going.

Embarrass yourself.

No, really, I mean it. Embarrass the hell out of yourself. Don’t bother by halves. Be egregious.

Allow me to tell you a story of how I got over myself and started going to the gym properly. It’s not my only or even most embarrassing story, but it was productive. Back to the days of the iPod Nano, which was still more robust than my self-esteem at the time.

I’m on a treadmill, flailing along, and one hand catches the earphones cable and catapults the iPod clear across the gym to the other side. In shock, I hit the emergency stop, and don’t realise that it stops after three seconds, so I also fall off the treadmill. I pick myself up and try walk over to retrieve it as nonchalantly as possible, then return to running.

Five minutes later, I did it again. At that point, I noticed that nobody had even looked up.

Your perception of embarrassment is rarely the same as anybody else’s. The stuff you remember versus what other people remember is rarely analogous. Except maybe for siblings.

So just go for it. Worst case scenario is that you end up on stage dressed as a giant bird talking about your feelings.


What’s the payoff though? And how does it relate to making music? Or anything else?

Very simple. It means you don’t really allow judgement (that may or may not even exist) to interfere with following something you actually want. Judgement and creativity cannot live in the same house, to paraphrase Yanni.

Frankly, the payoff means you stop giving a shit. And that is massively freeing.

Day 2: Listen

100 days as a challenge often feels like walking through a snowstorm. One foot in front of the other, no matter what.


Like Jon Snow, I also know nothing, and frequently have this expression. Ah nuts, I also wear all black and call myself a crow.

Rehearsal first with Summerhill, then Ableton. Afterwards, fit in cleaning, stretches, and some sleep. If you’re curious to hear the programme but can’t make the show for whatever reason, I got you.

It’s really weird to think about as a concept – to be in a very dynamic, breathing entity, where you are a living cog and your actions impact a totally different group in very measurable real time. Like in life, but these cues are a lot easier to see.

It’s simultaneously trying to be a machine and the best expression of the emotions that make us human. It’s both restraint and release. To express emotion without strangling the music, and then to make another person feel, remember, know something that might take you years to explain and relate to their experience.

I will likely always be in an orchestra because it’s very clear what is correct at a base level. It’s written there in front of you.

Interpretation, however, is another story. If you want to see a really good short explanation of the difference between reading and interpretation, watch this:

It starts out being about listening, but that feeds into interpretation, too. You cannot interpret if you don’t know how to listen. Proper listening is a full body activity.

If you’ve never seen this artist before, she is one of my heroes – Evelyn Glennie, an amazing percussionist who happens to be profoundly deaf. She teaches people to truly listen. Watching this and her documentary Touch the Sound was eye-opening and made me want to write music where I could hear what I hear in the world.

I plan to write a longer post about listening and a few other things that are seemingly innate and taken for granted, that I have had to re-learn over the past few years.

Ableton was more fun yesterday because things were more easily set up, but I got frustrated early because I was just throwing down notes at random with the iRig keys. That’s something I usually do and then prune out bits until it works, but I think this time I’d like to experiment with working with an actual structure.

Summon worked for that because the whole idea was that everything was supposed to be happening at once. Because that’s how it feels when you’re trying to recover. It’s all too much, too fast, and not fast enough. It’s a swirling mass in your head.

That isn’t a permanent state, though, and most of life is structured. Even if the structure is often broken or inappropriate. Being able to choose your own structure is a luxury.

Day 1: Breaking the Seal

2019-01-07 18.29.18

Part of the reason I’m taking this challenge on is that I really don’t like working in Ableton. I don’t know enough to have some fun with it. So if I force myself to use it every day and just play with ideas, outside of a pressurised environment, that might help.


Yesterday I didn’t do a huge amount. Start small. All commands I use will be for Mac OS, just an FYI.

  • Opened Ableton (!)
    • Preferences (cmd+,)
    • Look and feel
      • Changed background colour from the default to DISCO (way nicer)
    • Audio
      • Buffer size from 32 samples to 64 under Latency
      • This improves response time
    • Library
      • Never collect files on export if I want my laptop’s memory to survive this (saves a bunch of storage in your system)
    • Record, Warp, Launch
      • Changed file type from AIF to WAV format
      • Default warp mode to Complex
    • Built a few MIDI tracks to test out some sounds (scrolled through the list until I found something I liked)
      • Prepared Piano2 Harmonics
      • Harp3 Release
      • Kit-Core Borja (drums)

I used this video, which will probably keep me going all week, because it is an hour of solid gold content:

This sounds minimal, and it is. This is what I could get done in 15 minutes or so. I also procrastinated all day to do this, in that I have certain tasks that have to happen before certain cutoff times. I need to practice violin before 11pm,  even though I’ve never once received a noise complaint. I need to make sure I get groceries for the week, make calls to fit people into time zones, plan for the week ahead.

Drink about 15 years of coffee.

I will say that changing colours on an interface, even though it feels like a silly cosmetic change, does make a difference. It’s similar to the principle that you should always spend your money on good shoes and a good mattress, as you’ll be in either at any stage in time, and you should be comfortable.

2019-01-13 23.34.14

I committed to 15 minutes a day because once I open the program, I spend that amount of time anyway making bleeps and bloops. Yesterday I started drawing with  MIDI in pen mode to make a small hook. Something that might come in after the break in my next planned track. Too early to share, I think. But still. Funky colours make it a little more encouraging.


This is it. My plan for the next few months. I’m nervous and excited.

I wanted to set it up like a project, with internal milestones and expected deliverables so that I can avoid my usual goalpost-shifting.

What do I want as an outcome? Simple. More musical output at a higher standard than the previous year. One completely valid criticism I had last year was that my output is minimal. You can choose to become bitter or better, so I’m going to become better.

So, here are my  plans for the challenge:

  1. Every day I will open Ableton 9 and use it.
  2. I will intentionally investigate one feature or tool within that per day
  3. The minimum time spend per day will be 15 minutes
  4. I will make notes on my findings and write about them, including tutorials used, forums frequented, etc.
  5. Findings will be posted daily. Short form on Instagram and long form on this blog.
  6. This will dovetail in with online tutorials but must involve practical application on a daily basis – what did I do with this information
  7. End output is minimum one finished track to post on all streaming channels.
  8. Stretch goal would be three finished tracks, one each 30 days.
  9. This challenge will cover recording techniques, production tools, and gaining a better understanding of sound engineering.
  10. I will track all costs associated with this challenge (equipment, libraries, etc, if needed)

This challenge will occur daily with the exception of illness where I am unable to move. (This happened last year.) In that event, a day adds on to the end date of the challenge.

I want to break this into four blocks. Three 30-day blocks and a final ten-day speed run. This will allow me to break it down into smaller chunks, identify what I need to work on first, and prioritise as I go. 100 days of learning random parts is all well and good, but to achieve these outcomes, I need to give myself the best chance. The other reason is that there are a lot of 30-day challenges for music production and it seems a good format.

With all this in mind, I don’t expect to have a particularly interesting social life in the next while, so apologies in advance unless you’d like to come drink tea at the desk next to me while I’m working. Which, for the record, I quite enjoy. Otherwise, I’ll see you on Instagram.

Wish me luck!

No-Suitcase January

Fear of a blank page is called Vacansopapurosophobia, if you’re curious. Helps me break the seal of writing. Also, while we’re on the idea of fear, and for the day that’s in it, please enjoy David Bowie’s answers to the Proust Questionnaire. A legend gone too soon.

On to the topic!

A lot of what I want to work on this year is what I have wanted to work on the last few years. What I want to change is how I work on it.

I realised this after the end of last year, when I pushed too hard.  If you’re wondering what pushing too hard looks like, picture the following.

A room painted dark red, with cool lamps, a tinsel-and-Santa-hat-festooned-Buddha and miniature Christmas tree in one corner. WWII grenade on the wall, religious iconography and a stained glass window. My unwashed, profusely sweating self in old  candy pyjamas, covered in as many blankets as possible on the couch, stumbling up to get tea, tissues and cold medicine whenever I wake up. BBC news on in the background.

This is in Coventry, in Martin Bowes’ house. I’m there to record violin for Attrition‘s new record which will be on vinyl this year. Martin is a lovely person, was an amazing host, but also gets the job done, recording in The Cage Studio. I re-recorded Pripyat, even. It should be a really awesome thing. I’m just too burnt out to have the correct emotional response.

Before this (few days before Christmas), I had done the following:

  • Flown from Toronto to Ireland
  • A week or so before, I had spent a week working in Montana
  • Couple weeks beforehand, was in Ireland to work
  • Few days before that, I launched a single and event in Toronto
  • Couple weeks before that, I was in Nashville.
  • September and August I spent shooting two music videos, one of which is currently live.

That’s not counting corporate shows, shoots, and so on.  This is just the sheer volume of travel in a short space of time.

Over the course of a few months, I did not fully unpack a case, buy groceries, or cook properly for myself. My apartment, aside from  when my mother visited to come to my  launch (good lord can I take a moment to point out how AMAZING that is? Seriously) was a dystopian nightmare where things were in places that made no sense. I think the conditioner was next to the tins of beans at one point.

Point being, while I got a good bit done, and I’m glad for that, my body had its revenge. I can’t remember the last time I was that sick.

I’m still not at full health. I don’t expect to be for some time, but I had to make a few decisions that I hope I will carry through into the following year.

  1. Say no when I have to, without guilt. For January I’m trying to make sure there’s no shows and no reason for me to pack a suitcase.
  2. Gamifying daily tasks so I put off less – I’m currently using Habitica, which is so far paying dividends, and it’s free
  3. Take on challenges that clearly benefit me.  I’m taking on another 100 days this spring.
  4. Make my health a priority. If I’m not at strength, I do a worse job and reduce my overall output value.

So with all that in mind I want to take what I did last year and do it bigger, and cheaper, and smarter. I can’t do any of that if I don’t keep to the points above.

I’m hoping that I don’t have to pack a suitcase this month. Either to stay anywhere or to play a show, as my pedals, cables, interface, swag, notes and laptop require a small wheeled case.

I’m excited for this challenge. The first one I did last year was surprisingly hard but it stuck. For anybody new to this, I did 100 days of practice on Instagram, and kept to it even when I had to borrow a violin while I was travelling. (Adventures in frozen Saskatoon!) One thing I noticed is that I run my thumbs on Instagram captions. Not in itself a bad thing, but a blog allows me better formatting options and no blanking out my work if I accidentally over-hashtag.

So this year, doing the same thing but with the added bonus of writing. Given that the challenge this year is geared towards improving my technical skills and output, this will be good for me to lay down thoughts, see where the hurdles are and let me detangle ingrained processes.

So. No-suitcase January, because I’ve got a lot to unpack already.


“It’s light. Finding the light that can glow”

There are so many things that we need to find in this world, but nothing comforts us after a bad time like light does. There’s nowhere to hide, and provided we have done nothing we need to conceal, that is a comfortable place to be.

Speaking as somebody who was terrified of the dark as a child, that is.

We all hide much, and more than we probably need to. So we stop looking for light to bring in, because of shame.

I can’t see fully in light. It blinds me. And often we can only let it in if there’s a break or vulnerability. Leonard Cohen said it best:

There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in

Anthem, 1992

To be ready to let light in, there’s pain, and there’s work. There’s a gnawing  fear that it’s a weakness that will be exploited. Who has not had some weakness exploited in their life?

I started looking for light by going back and back to the first thing that every musician learns:


I hear the groans of musicians everywhere, but hear me out.

Scales are like weights training for your intonation, your technique. We know this.


Scales also hold the keys to anxiety and avoiding repetitive strain injury.

The irony was that I didn’t even get this advice from anybody I was involved with musically. A dental hygienist put me on to it while fitting me for a night guard. When I started getting anxious because this mould was going down my throat, she told me to start playing through scales in my head, start to finish, while breathing in. It worked, and nobody had ever given me that advice before. It planted a seed.

What follows is speaking from my own experience. But I know that I didn’t like scales, so I tried to get them out of the way as quickly as possible. Which meant that when I was playing scales for a teacher, I would be tense because I hadn’t laid the foundation properly, and tensing up added on increments every time I played that note.

I learned that this was more relaxing when I worked on it as though it was an experiment.  Just observing, no judgement. Just a long note. I started trying to keep my  bow as even as possible, which meant noticing when I got afraid.

It seems silly, doesn’t it. Getting afraid because you’re two-thirds down a bow towards the frog, when moving between the two lower strings? Because I didn’t drill  technique hard enough? Or knowing that I don’t watch my intonation when I hit a C note above middle C in 3rd position?

This isn’t an hours-long commitment, by the way. This is something I take 15 minutes on, but those are dedicated minutes. That is when I am fully engaged in what I am doing. Just me and a vibrating string which envelops everything else in my head. Distraction breaks that connection, so getting better at getting back to that is important.

(Quick note as well to anybody  who has only played scales as up and down with zero variation: what are you doing? That’s step one in how you can drill the hell out of it and also start to improvise better.)

End of technical talk.

This seems like a lofty topic to relate down to something as simple as body awareness and the fact that I was a lazy music student, right?

It isn’t, though. It’s small decisions that reflect up to the big ones. It’s putting in the work on the foundations. If I have no foundations, I cannot build. Putting the work in there reduces my anxiety, which means I play with less pain, which means I play more, and get better, and get closer to making music I can play as well as write.

You can find something that makes a light glow brighter in you. It doesn’t have to be grandiose, or lofty, or anything related to anything I talked about. This is just what I found that helped me. You can find a glow in working on something, day in day out (not even long-term, necessarily), building a foundation that has deeper ramifications for you.

I spent a while perfecting a breakfast sandwich and that was as important to me at the time as this is now, because I was not feeding myself properly up until that point. Now it’s mainly a weekend treat. These individual glows don’t have to be a lifelong pursuit, either. It’s taking the time and care to build a foundation, because it is worth it.

Weaknesses remain weaknesses if we keep them in the dark and do nothing to address them. A vulnerability is out in the light and can be turned into strength.

How can I support my child to learn?

So a really sweet story I wanted to share about a night out in Toronto.

Most of the time now I don’t really go out on nights out. I either can’t afford the time and/or money, but I am usually taking an Uber to work on mixing with Devecseri. Livin it MASSIVE (if you mean this Massive).

Sometimes the Uber conversations are fun, sometimes not, sometimes none. Usually it comes out pretty quickly that I’m a musician because I’m lugging around a violin, midi keyboard, laptop, among other things. One journey recently was really sweet.

I get to talking with my driver, who has two sons, aged 6 and 2. They’re boisterous and have lots of energy, and he’s going to take them out to the bird sanctuary in Niagara for the long weekend. We start talking music because that’s where I’m going and he mentions his 6-year-old has started making his own tunes, humming and recording it into his smartwatch unprompted. Neither his parents or grandparents are musical or play any instruments, so it’s particularly interesting. I was really impressed, until he asked a question that just made me so happy:

“What can I do to support my son?”

I never really work with kids or parents in my line of work, so this question made me so happy. Amazing parent moment. He has financial constraints of course, so lessons aren’t always possible. So I suggested a few things for somebody learning music, and this could apply to any age:

  • Go into a music shop and ask if it’s possible to try different instruments and what would be good for a young beginner
  • YouTube for getting a sense of possibility, seeing different teaching methods and instruments available
  • Get a cheap instrument for a beginner. Check the internet, trading sites, second hand places. Even music schools have to get rid of stuff sometimes or know somebody who is.
  • Lots of schools have free or group classes for kids, which can be a great starting point.
  • Other than that,  just listen to a kid. Don’t tell them what they’re doing sounds terrible, because that SUCKS to hear. It puts a zap on your head, let me tell you.

Obviously respecting noise and neighbours is one thing, but framing it makes all the difference. Everybody is terrible at the start. Sometimes it doesn’t end there.

This is purely based on my own experience, of course. I know I needed a much more careful and nurturing approach when I started to learn composition for making music, even though I studied musicianship for years in an abstract sense. I went back to it as an adult and had much more anxiety around being perfect or not at all, no middle ground.

Support takes many forms in music. Sometimes you just need somebody to listen. Having the awareness to know when something is in a more fragile state and structuring feedback accordingly is a valuable skill. That way you can spotlight the areas that have potential and gently nudge away the dross. Of course, as any musician or artist progresses you can be a bit less gentle, same with raising a kid. I feel like this is much more important when a person is actually creating music, not just learning how to play it. I really hope this kid gets the right teachers for him, although by the sounds of things he’s already well on his way.

Ideas can be so fragile, but it’s key moments like that which can change everything.

Adventures in Ableton Live

Learning how to compose while learning the software to do it is like learning to be a bricklayer while building the road out in front of you. It’s fun, but it takes a lot longer. However, that technically is what building your own path is.

To really overstretch this metaphor, I think I’ve bulldozed a space ahead enough to track back and start building a path. Hopefully without causing harm.

That’s one reason I like having a day job in software. In a weird way, it keeps me disciplined. When you only have a very narrow window in which to work, you work. You learn a lot about best practices, most of which translate to any business model. And make no mistake, being known as a musician, much less getting paid, is a business. It’s one of the few ones where you clearly, blatantly, obviously, bleed for your work, but it’s all too easy to be anonymous, or relatively so.

There’s an benefit to keeping your head somewhere between the clouds and the ground. Bestride the narrow world, and extra so as an immigrant. I am learning Toronto while keeping Ireland with me, but they feed into each other.

So what am I learning? Ableton will do anything as long as you ask and know how to ask. There have been many, many swearing incidents where I play a new improv off the top of my head, thought I had everything set up, and – ah! balls. I had no channel selected, or I’d armed the wrong track, or I’d selected the wrong track, or I was still in session mode, or a host of other obstacles.

Any system reminds me of a jungle gym. Overwhelmingly complicated at the beginning, daunting, and you will likely fall on your ass. A lot. BUT. It’s important to fall, and fall early. If not, you’ll be more afraid of failure than anything else. I’m trying, slowly, to ease that death-grip fear. Fear is the reason behind an overwhelming majority of my mistakes, which is funny when you think about it.