Monday, November 26, 2007

Hump (the noun, not the verb)

So anyway, I'm stuck; paralyzed by a wretched combination of my own ineptitude, insecurity, and a highly refined sense of procrastination. It's right in front of me...all I need to do is start. So why can't I? Am I so rusty? Is the task that daunting? Is there some cosmic misalignment of the stars that's keeping me from diving in head first and just doing it already? I suppose a mental kick in the ass might be in order. But as has been the case with most things throughout my life, it would likely only serve to enhance my rage, bring about my general ire and disdain for said "kicker", and bring out my other highly refined sense of defiance.

I'm speaking of course, about writing something. Not just anything, but tackling that little annoyance that's been tickling the obscure, inner-most depths of my noodle for oh so long now; killing my white whale, if you will (you know, I still haven't read Moby Dick, but at least I comprehend the analogy). I'm talking about transcribing Section 8 from a band piece to an orchestral piece. For those of you that are now completely lost (which should be everyone but Brad), I composed this insane piece (no pun intended) called Section 8 for large wind ensemble with extended percussion section my last two years at Western.

It's not bad, I'm actually rather proud of it overall. The problem is that even most seasoned professional players would look at some areas and quip, "Are you fucking serious?!". Brad likes to subtitle it something to the effect of Horns Too Fucking High. It's somewhat of an exaggeration to be certain, but I'll admit, I think there are a couple of places where I transposed the wrong way. Dr. Mathews at Western took one look at the trombone parts and sort of chuckled, and then remarked, "Who's going to be playing this?!" To which I answered, rather boldly, "We are!" [Another chuckle...more of a snort actually]. To which he retorted, "Where do they breathe?!" To which, again, rather boldly I pointed out, "Here...here...and......here." (Just imagine a score in your mind with a lot of black in the bones). After a good belly laugh, he responded with, "Maybe in Chicago, but not here!" To top it off, our band director more or less chicken-shitted out of it after a couple of read-throughs (ok, so it doesn't maintain a constant time signature for more than a measure or two at a time - and most of those are odd meters).

I know what my problem is...aside from a genetic disposition towards laziness, it's that I know that as I'm going along, I'll have a million-and-one ideas for changes and/or additions. And quite frankly, the prospect is a bit overwhelming. I still have over half, no fuck that, two-thirds (minimum) of my repertoire to transcribe into Sibelius. But that's just inputting notes, i.e. little in the way of new creative output. Then again, one could argue (one being me, that is) that it's that "new creative output" that's putting me off to begin with. I'm cold (figuratively and literally - it's freezing in my basement). I've been "out of the game" as it were for so long that I honestly think I'm a little afraid that I've forgotten what I'm doing.

Maybe I need to set a goal. Goal setting in general is supposed to be productive for most people, although for me, in the past, it's included such dismal failures as "exercise more" and "get out to see Dad more than just on Memorial Day". Again, I'm back to mental ass-kicking. That's not an invitation to anyone out there, I'm just trying to use this post to psych myself up...so feel free to fuck-off should the urge strike to throw in your 2 cents (relating is fine however). So I just need to get over that hump. Alright, what the hell, my goal is that by the end of the month I'll have made a sizable start on my transcription/re-orchestration/re-imagining (whatever the fuck you want to call it). Anyone want to get a pool going? How long before this whole thing goes down in oh so glorious flames of failure? And here I am claiming to be an incurable optimist! Maybe it would be more fun (an possibly more productive) to find all the typos (and what not) in this post...I can't feel my fingers from the cold at this point, I'm bound to have made a few...

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

10 Years, 10 Cues, 10 Extra Strength Tylenol to Get Rid of This Headache

So anyway, time to throw my 2 cents in I suppose (although, with me it's usually something closer to change for a buck). I thought, seeing as how Brad's comment section for his post is getting a little...bloated, I'd go ahead and post my response here on my own blog. And let's face it, The Pikey's blog's been a little dry over the last few months, so why not pad it a little. So without further ado...and in absolutely in no particular order whatsoever, here we go:


"Adagio and Transfiguration" - Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within (Elliot Goldenthal): I know Brad's more partial to "Toccata...", but for me this cue is where the score really shines. I liken the pivotal moment in the cue - when the whole orchestra is just roaring near the end - to nothing short of an orchestral orgasm. I've rattled windows in my car and home from having this up so loud.

"Death Camp" - X-Men (Michael Kamen):In what is perhaps arguably the most underrated score in the superhero/comic book adaptation genre, this particular cue really stands out for two reasons. One, it's brilliantly orchestrated and emotional. And two, it is perhaps one of the finest examples of excessive over-scoring I've ever heard. I picked up the CD before the film came out. After my first listen through this track, I replayed it...about 9 more times (each a little louder than before). After absorbing it, I was fully expecting to go into the theater and see some monumental mutant moment (say that 3 times quickly), with special effects out the wazoo. Instead, we get a kid in a concentration camp bending a fence with is mind...woo hoo. Still, the music is phenomenal.

"Fed Net March and Klendathu Drop" - Starship Troopers (Basil Poledouris): Let's face it, this is really one cue...and a hell of a cue at that. There's something just so balls-out gung-ho about it that really turns one on. I'm not sure what I love more - the brass blaring away, or all those intricate wind and string lines underneath the brass blaring away.

"Hand of Fate, Pt. I" - Signs (James Newton Howard):I couldn't very well leave off any of the cues from my original list from months back now could I. See The Best 19 Minutes Ever posting for my thoughts on this one.

"Lighting of the Beacons" - The Return of the King (Howard Shore): I have to totally agree with Brad on this one - one of the best marriages of music and film ever. I would however like to augment and include the sequence immediately after this - as Aragorn bursts into the great hall of Rohan to announce that the beacons are lit...Theoden replies, "...and Rohan shall answer!". The fanfare version of the Rohan theme that starts right at that moment in the horns is just so, so...well...TOTALLY KICK-ASS AWESOME!!!

"The Last Giant Piece" - The Iron Giant (Michael Kamen): See "Hand of Fate" above...

"Duel of the Fates" - The Phantom Menace (John Williams): The first time I heard this, I was in the Western Music Computer Lab (ha - a closet with a dozen old Macs) with Brad, Amanda Giese, and Elvis...it was about two or three months before opening day and Elvis had just found it on the web. When it was over, I think all I could muster was, "Holy Shit!". And I just sat there, with a semi-wood, dying to hear it again.

"Buckbeak's Flight" - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (John Williams): The real travesty is that this cue isn't included in any shape or form in the Hal Leonard Signature Series score. It's just so grand and sweeping and epic...If I ever learn to fly, I want this playing in the background as I do it.

"First Contact" - Star Trek: First Contact (Jerry Goldsmith): Granted, this was actually a 1996 film, but since it came out right before Christmas that year, for me, it's close enough (and after I gave Reed a hard time about his list - shame, shame). I love the "First Contact" theme anyway, and Jerry just really hit it out of the park with the way he put it together in this cue. I remember seeing this in the theater, getting swept away as the the music began to swell when the "aliens" came down the ramp of their ship. I remember thinking, "OH IT'S GOT TO BE THE VULCANS!!!". Though honestly, I'm not sure if I was just thinking it, or actually said it really loud. As the Vulcan pulls his hood down and the cymbal crashes, I think I was literally bouncing up and down in my seat. Anyway, long story short (too late), even today, almost 11 years later (wow), I still get excited hearing that moment on the album.

"Glamdring" - The Two Towers (Howard Shore): Again, I'm in total agreement with Brad. The chorus is especially fantastic - it sounds like it could fill an arena when the glow of the Balrog emerges from the hole in the ceiling, and the entire cavern below is lit up like Times Square. The joining of the two (music and visual) at this moment is near perfection.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Horrible Thought for the Day (I already know I'm going to Hell, at this point I'm more concerned with what level I'll be on!)

So anyway, maybe it's just me, but I was thinking that Compulsive Masturbation would make an awesomely funny event at the Special Olympics!


That's it...really!

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

A Little Something New (Sort Of)

So anyway, if anyone's interested, I've added a new-old piece to my MySpace page. It's the Prelude from my Prelude, Chorale and Scherzo for Trombone Trio (with Piano). I'm actually quite proud of the whole piece overall, now if I can just get a decent live recording. Anyway, now that I've finally got my shit together in my studio (more or less anyway - I'll share that ordeal on an upcoming post soon) I threw this together real fast with my synth in Digital Performer. I think it turned out reasonably well (for a MIDI rendition at least). Have a listen sometime...hell, it might actually convince you that The Pikey really is something of a real composer...

...or not (shut-the-fuck-up Brad, I can hear the wheels turning - oil that thing already before something breaks!).

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Living the Dream (or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Just Love the Poo!)

So anyway, I suppose this means I'm back. Ok, well, at the very least I'm finding myself in the mood to...what? Chat? Needless to say my sour disposition is elevating to a more, how should I say, jovial status. I still have the same complaints, grievances, issues and dilemmas as before, it's just that as of late I've decided to make an effort to flush some of them down the proverbial toilet. So without further adieu, let's rundown what's been going on in my infinitesimal and insignificant little corner of the universe.


I've been promoted. I'm as of September 1st actually getting the pay grade that reflects what I've been doing in this hole for the last, oh...say, TWO AND A HALF YEARS!!! So, yeah, the recognition is nice, but I'm still being underpaid by about $5,000.00 a year for what's expected of me. I'm like that kid in that investment commercial from a few years ago. You remember, the one who dreamed of "Clawing his way to middle management!"! It's a start...maybe the start of a long, winding trip down the road of lifelong unfulfillment (I know, that's probably not a word...but fuck it!) , but a start nonetheless.


Der Schlecte Affe is in day care. There's still that little voice in the back of my head telling me I'm an awful parent for putting him there (seeing as how I'm home all day - why would I need someone else to raise my child?). But it will be good for everybody. I'll get some time to sleep, or do things around the house...or, perish the thought...compose (fuck off Brad, I can already hear what you're thinking!)!!! He's on his third week and already he's had two colds and caught a strain of Fifth's Disease (which, btw, is just a dumb little virus that lies dormant for a week or two, then gives you a fever, and then once said fever breaks causes your entire body to break out into an ugly little rash distinguished by the appearance of having been slapped in the face repeatedly - ah, missed opportunities...did I just advocate child abuse?). Luckily, it's kinda like Chicken Pox in that once you've had it, you probably won't get it again. Also, it's good to have a little extra help in the whole potty training ordeal. And the social interaction is a key ingredient (the alternative being that we kept him at home until Kindergarten and his first instinct upon meeting other children his age be to attempt to eat them...or at the very least pound them into submission to his will).


Speaking of other things Monkey related, I suppose I should go ahead and relay the incident with the poo (lest the alternative title make no sense at all). I know Brad's already heard this, but it's still funny, and I want to share with the whole world (or at least the 2 or 3 other people that read this blog). To give a little background on my son...he's a thief. He's well on his way to a renowned career as some kind of criminal mastermind. At this point, he's still in the snatch and grab stage...you know, he'll sneak up on the intended victim, pretend to pay no attention to it, then snag it and run away at full speed. He's a taker, he never gives you anything. Prior to daycare, we'd often let him play in his room relatively unattended. He's trained us to know that as long as we can hear him, he's doing okay. It's when everything gets suddenly deathly silent that we have to check to see what he been destroying, or building, or whatever. Anyway, the day in question, he was doing his thing in his room. Things got exceptionally quiet, so I called out to him. A thunk and a thundering calamity were immediately followed by a guilt-ridden full-on run to me. To make amends for whatever he's just demolished, he presents to me a gift...these two droids, err, sorry, wrong movie. He's holding out his hand, shaking it vehemently...he wants to give me something. The child that only takes has a gift for daddy. So I hold out my hand and tell him to let me have it. Worst...mistake......ever! He gave me...a lump of poo. More specifically - his poo. He fished it out of his diaper pail and gave it, most lovingly, to me! I'm just thankful I didn't overreact and throw it like a fastball. Needless to say, things were washed...hands, face, baby teeth, you name it. And the lump of poo was returned from whence it came.


What else, well...I've started learning how to use that loverly (and free) copy of the Sibelius 5 upgrade I got back in April. I've started by inputting my String Quartet into it. It's a process. Even after a few weeks of it, my brain still can't get the Mosaic shortcuts out and let all the Sibelius goodness in. I'm almost finished though; I've only got about 4 pages left - what do you want, it's not bad for a half-hour here and forty-five minutes there. Now the real question is, does anyone know some string players interested in reading and rehearsing some new material? No one, really...no takers at all? Seriously?! M'kay (dicks)!


I'm kind of conflicted because the darkness that has clouded my working environment for the last year and a half is leaving. I of course refer to...THE BITCH! Oh, did I forget to mention? Yeah, I hate my boss, or at least, that is to say, I hate my boss-boss (more on that in a minute). If she was on fire, I wouldn't piss on her to put her out. I have wet dreams of pinning her to the floor and pummeling her face into hamburger...get the picture (okay so now I'm endorsing misogyny - I've already touched on child abuse, that just leaves euthanizing the elderly and torturing the handicapped and I'll have run the entire politically incorrect gamut I think...oh wait no, I forgot minorities and Jews, damn!). Anyway, in my department we have a shift supervisor (who is my boss) and a shift manager (who is also my boss, and since she's also the supervisor's boss, she shall be referred to as boss-boss). In any case, I hate her. Everyone hates her. I'd be willing to bet that the only people on Earth that like her are her children, and even then I'd lay good odds that at least one of them hates her too. I don't want to get into the details (that's another blog - not another posting...an entirely new BLOG!). I've dubbed her The Bitch with the sincerest affection. In the phone directory of my cell phone I have her listed as "The Bitch" for work, and "The Bitch at Home" for, well...home (duh!). Here's the conflict - she's leaving...to manage the 2nd Shift in our department. This is 31 flavors of bad because now she'll be in charge of (cue spooky music)...MY MOM! My mom doesn't put up with my shit (and that's a lot of shit), so there's no way in the deepest, darkest, remotest corners of Hell that she's going to get along with psycho-obnoxious-backstabbing-opportunist-glory hound-cheerleader-bitch. Yeah, I'm almost certain that The Bitch has about four weeks to live...tops.


I guess that's it for the moment. I'm sure I'm forgetting something, but at this point I'm tired and ready for a new post...so we'll see if I can't squeeze another one in sometime in the next six months. Oh, and will someone please just go ahead and lynch Mike Vick by his own nutsack so we can get him off my fucking TV and Internet and get back to more important news. You know, stuff like what President Shrub is going to do now that half of his brain has resigned, or why Brittney shaved her pubes and glued them on her head...you know...important stuff!





Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Funk...y

So anyway, here I am on my 80th post and to say I'm in a bit of a funk would be a monumental understatement. Like Herr Vogler, I too am experiencing something of a personal artistic crisis (though admittedly, I still have no idea what's bugging you Brad and I just talked to you yesterday for fucks sake! - my bad, sorry about not asking...some friend!). For me, I'm simply at a crossroads in my life, a horrifying prospect of a crossroads, but a crossroads nonetheless. I've come to the realization as of late that I may have to give up on any thoughts of ever being a composer. There...I've said it (that actually hurt a little). It's a difficult decision and one I'm going to take a plethora of time making.

Should I hold on to my dreams, be patient, and wait for circumstances to improve so that I might resume being an artist once again? Or should I accept an unfortunate inevitability that the position I've placed myself into leaves little room for me to pursue my life's ambition. With my son, I've discovered a new found wealth of patience. I honestly didn't know I had it in me. So, should I apply that to my aspirations and wait for a potential time in the (hopefully) not-so-distant future when I can begin composing again? Or should I acquiesce to the idea that my devotion to my family won't allow for personal pursuits of this nature any longer. Am I an awful person for allowing the most important people in my universe to become a crutch this way? (That's a rhetorical question btw)

It might be easy to an outside observer to simply say, "For God's sake man, just go and write something!". But I would reply that things just aren't that simple. I could ramble on with a list of excuses why I can't "get my groove on". But that would be shallow, and relatively pointless. Suffice it to say that my life is my life and my problems are my own and not yours (whomever you may be) and in the end, I'm the only one who can relate to my situation because it is unique to me. I've regrettably made the proverbial bed and now I'm sitting next to it wishing I could get in and get just a couple more hours sleep. I don't blame anyone for my woes. I chose to work on this damned graveyard shift in this damned place. I donated the baby batter that resulted in that wonderful little creation of mine. It's just, well, I'm in a rut...a deep rut. A giant, gaping, seemingly bottomless chasm of a rut, with spikes layering the bottom (wherever it is). I know perfectly well that mine is a profession where you make something happen. Unfortunately, I've tried, and my failures thus far dismally outweigh my successes.

Now before anyone gets any ideas of commenting with opinions or ideas, don't. I don't want them. If you want to use a comment to relate in your own personal way, fine. Anything beyond that will only aggravate my disposition further. I hate the idea of using my blog to poor my heart out...but what the hell, it's not as if I've had anything else to write about lately. This is all your fault Brad...you're the one who nagged me for a new post. Well, ok, not really, but blaming you anyway brings a hint of a smile to my face.

Long, hard, deep reflection is where I'm at at this point (that almost got kind of dirty!). I need to continue to think, and weigh the consequences of whatever action I decide to take. So...this won't be my last post, but unless something extraordinary happens, it'll be the last one for a little while. Who knows, maybe something absolutely hilarious will occur tomorrow forcing me to post on it, thus making a total liar out of me. But for now, I'm out.

Peace out yo!

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Happy Birthdays All Around


Just wanted to take a minute to shout a big Happy Birthday to both my beautiful wife who is 30 today (and who's home tending to a sickly little Monkey this morning), and to the great one...Mr. John Towner Williams who is now three-quarters of a century. Love of my life and personal hero and icon born on the same day...is that serendipitous or what?!

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

If I Were a Superhero, I Would Be...

...CONTRARY MAN!!!

My power would be that I'd take the exact opposite stance on any opinion that anyone I don't like has (which would be a shitload of people actually), rather I actually agree with that stance or not, and then bicker with them about it until they become so pissed that their head literally explodes - or at least until they suffer a massive coronary through sheer frustration. Thus ridding the world of their stupidity...COOL!!!

It might be fun to be Orgazmo too, but it'd be kinda sticky, and I wouldn't want the stuntcock.

Friday, January 26, 2007

James Horner Was a Genius

So anyway, I was listening to Krull while working tonight, and I stumbled upon a real gem that I had completely forgotten about. It actually kinda pisses me off really - knowing that the man has such an awesome feel for accentuating any given moment in a film so very gloriously, and that he shits all over such a talent so regularly by being one of the most highly skilled musical plagiarists ever.

Sure, Ride of the Fire Mares is awesome, so are the Main Titles, but a real treat happens starting around 1'35" of the Inside the Black Fortress cue (Track 8 on the 2ND disc of the 2-CD SuperTracks bootleg - for those out there who don't have it...find one, NOW!). It's the scene where Colwin first breaks out the Glave to actually use it. He and the others are standing around the dome prison holding Llysa. It's a shit scene really! It would've/could've/should've been a fantastic moment, but thanks to some terrible camera work, blah special effects, and a little poor acting, it more or less failed...until...

Jimbo threw in his score cue.

OK, so it still failed in the end, but thanks to the music, they almost nailed it. This is without a doubt one of the better musical excitement build-ups I can remember. Like I said, alone, the scene flops, but with the score cue, it does a complete 179 degree turn (deduct a degree for the letdown that followed, regardless of how great the music is/was). The orchestra slowly starts revving, and even without the benefit of picture, you still get this wondermous sense of "Stand back folks, you're about to see some serious shit here!". I've heard this cue umpteen thousand times, and last night it still gave me goosebumps. It's brilliant...fan-fucking-tastic. Unfortunately, once the Glave is actually out, the excitement kind of peters-out. It's like waiting for the money shot, and all you get is a puff of air - no release, no boobies covered in a hot puddle of Elmer's glue...just some red-faced lame-ass holding his Johnson ("oops, sorry...my balls must be dry!"). It's a stripper-cake and the bitch is dead because some idiot cooked it with her in it!

But hey, at least the music still kicks ass!

James Horner was a genius, now he's a hack...but a genius hack nonetheless!