CDinosaur

I knew it had been a while since I'd set foot in a brick-and-mortar music store, but wow. Here's what I ended up taking home from Zia Records tonight:

• Awolnation, Megalithic Symphony: new, $9.99
• The Lumineers: new, $12.99
• Beatles, Rubber Soul: used, $3.99
• Beatles, The White Album: used, $16.99
• Shawn Colvin, Fat City: used, $2.99
• Shawn Colvin, A Few Small Repairs: used, $2.99

At the checkout counter I asked, "Is it me, or have prices gone way down?

The guy ringing me up confirmed that they had. Especially for used CDs.

"The digital download crisis has been going on for so long," I said, "that I figured it would never happen. That the music industry would be in denial forever."

The guy said, "There's a rumor going around that by the end of this year, nobody will even make CDs anymore. Of course, it's only a rumor."

Googling around later, I found an article from Side-Line Music Magazine claiming that except for special limited editions, the CD format will be abandoned by major labels by the end of 2012. They say they can't get official confirmation, but they seem pretty sure it's going to happen.

I dunno. While the demise of the CD is bound to happen eventually, it seems like someone would have announced it if "eventually" were less than a year away.

On the other hand, the timing seems right. CDs at reasonable prices? Can't have that.

Grammatical Gotye?

A lot of elements go into writing good lyrics. Finding the right words to express what you mean. Matching the syllables to the beats. Avoiding cliches. And, of course, impeccable grammar.

Wait. Grammar?

Yes, according to Joe Hadsall. He wrote a whole article about how the title of "Somebody That I Used to Know" by Gotye is grammatically incorrect. He cites the Associated Press Stylebook, which states that "who" should be used when it stands in for a human being. For instance:

I bought a drum machine that didn't cost a lot of money.

But ...

I listened to a drummer who plays with a local band.

Therefore, says Hadsall, the song title should be "Somebody Who I Used to Know."

Gawd. Where to begin?

So much of lyrics depends on how the words sound. Does "I can't get no satisfaction" work better if you eliminate the double negative? How about Beyonce's line "Don't be mad once you see that he want it" Is "Single Ladies" better if she fixes the subject-verb disagreement?

"Fixing" the Stones example would be more obviously wrong. The rhythm gets thrown off if you change the line to "I can't get any satisfaction," whereas it would still scan correctly if Beyonce were to sing "Don't be mad once you see that he wants it." But "want it" (actually pronounced "wannit" in the song) is easier to sing and more pleasing to hear.

It's possible that Hadsall would concede those points. He does make allowances for creative expression. He just isn't willing to make them for Gotye.

... songwriters take creative, musical license with grammar when coming up with unique turns of phrase, and I'm OK with that. But "Somebody That I Used to Know" is so boring and bland that it should really be grammatically correct -- because grammar is boring and bland.

Nope. I'm lukewarm on this tune myself, and I still have to disagree. When faced with the prospect of breaking a rule, songwriters do not and should not base their decision on how good they think the song is. They base their decision on whether breaking the rule makes the song better. By that standard, Gotye made the right choice. "Somebody who I used to know" doesn't flow as well.

Listen, I care about grammar too. I care more than the average person. Writers pay me to correct their grammar. But this guy is just wrong.

[Late update 11/4/2013: Hadsall actually argued that the title should be "Somebody WHOM I Used to Know." I should've caught that. I probably didn't because, while "whom" is grammatically correct here, it sounds just awful.]

* * *

Hat tip to Jeremiah Tucker, whose article Songwriting should always trump grammar alerted me to the original post.

Bridging the break

Writing breaks—those instrumental interludes in the middle of songs—used to intimidate me. I'd always lose my way a few measures in, play something boring. And then what? Where to go from there?

But at some point, I realized that there's a process I always return to. If I trust the process, the notes will find their way to me eventually.

The process goes like this:

• Write a decent beginning. (This is the easy part.)
• Play the decent beginning and improvise what comes after.
• Repeat the previous step many times
• When I stumble upon something promising just after the decent beginning, follow up and develop it.
• When I stumble upon something promising at the end, follow up and develop it.
• Steer what comes before the ending toward the ending.
• Keep going until the beginning and end meet in the middle.

Tonight I finished a break for one of my new songs. Recorded it so I won't forget. I am pleased.

And for the first time I wondered: Is this process universal? Or do other songwriters do breaks differently?

Averted

We were nearing the end of our set at an indoor art festival when I felt it. Something in my throat. If I sang the next notes as I always did, the resulting sound would be a hacky train wreck. Even the people who weren't listening would notice.

I routed around whatever was in my throat. The hack-inducing thing went away. The mother of all clams was averted.

Everything before and after that moment went well too. We got a lot more positive attention than I would have expected, given that we were only there to enhance the ambience. Still, the thing I'm most proud of is the thing that didn't happen. Funny how that works.

Stringing along

In preparation for the tuner's visit yesterday, I cleared off the junk that had accumulated on top of my piano over the course of a year. Then I played a little bit and noticed something weird.

For weeks, many of the keys had been hitting more than one string. But now most of them were working as they should. Some quick chromatic scales revealed that only three keys were showing signs of trouble, and not as markedly as before.

At first I thought I'd caused the improvement by removing all that junk. But that didn't make sense. Pianos are sturdy things. Putting stuff on top of them doesn't hurt them any.

Maybe it just wanted attention.

The piano tuner was as baffled by this turn of events as I was, but no matter. In spite of his dire predictions that I might need to buy a whole new piano, he was able to fix it for just $15 above the cost of the regular tune. And it doesn't just sound better now. It feels better to play. Practicing last night was a joy.

So, except for the weird suspicion that an inanimate object has been messing with my mind, everything is good now.

* * *

A little plug for the guy who made my piano (and me) very happy: Neal Flint has been tuning pianos in Tucson for over 30 years. He does good work and he's a heckuva nice guy. Of interest to some of my readers, he told me that he has a couple of clients with MCS. If you live in Tucson, have chemical sensitivities, and need a piano tuner, call Neal. He'll go fragrance-free if you need him to and he won't act like it's a big deal. www.flinttuningandpiping.com

Mutiny of the keys

My piano has needed repair for a few weeks now. First an oft-used key started hitting a couple of strings at once. Then other keys followed suit. It's painful to listen to.

And now I'm worried. Based on my description, a couple of piano tuners I talked to said my piano might not be fixable. Nobody makes Rippens anymore. There may not be any existing replacement parts.

This is bad. I can't afford another piano. Plus, the one I have is perfect for practicing, with heavy action that gives my fingers a good workout.

There's still hope. I dealt with a similar issue a year ago (though only one key was playing the wrong note; the others were just sticking), and the tuner fixed it right up.

Tuning/repair is scheduled for next week. My fingers are crossed. Which makes it kind of hard to play, but given how the piano sounds right now, that's probably a blessing.

On the down-low

Not long ago, we were hired to play at a private conference. Our directive from the event coordinator was clear: We'd be there for atmosphere only. The songs we chose should be low-key. In fact, half the time we'd need to do pieces with no vocals at all.

No problem. Instrumentals aren't part of our usual repertoire, but we could certainly make a few up as we went along. We set up in the reception area, turned way down, and did our thing while guests talked and nibbled on hors d'oeuvres.

After an hour, the guests moved into the main banquet room and we packed up, proclaiming the event a success. We did what we were supposed to, which was lend the reception a touch of class while not making it impossible for people to hear each other. A few people even said they enjoyed the music.

Today I thanked the coordinator who hired us, and she sent a note back saying that we were "a huge hit":

Thank you so much for performing ... Since then I've heard MANY MANY MANY nice things from those attending the event.

Wow. Even at a pure atmosphere gig, you never know who's listening.