Well, it’s been a while since I updated this blog on my recording project. As I recorded more intensely in October, I felt I couldn’t interrupt to type here, and then the holidays hit and my busiest performance season of the year began. Here’s where I’m at with the new CD:

I finished recording all twelve tracks for Hammer & Wire at home in late October. This was such a good process for these pieces, as I gradually rearranged them and even re-wrote parts of them in the process. I love this music even more as a result!

In addition, I learned a ton about editing audio as I glued together parts of various takes to make the perfect version of each song. Yes, I know the fantasy of getting each song in one magical take is ever before me, but I decided long ago not to add that weight to my shoulders. The beauty (and curse) of modern recording technology is that I can seamlessly “Frankenstein” together parts of various versions of a piece of music to get the one version that captures my vision for it. The only limit I put on myself was that I refused to edit individual notes and phrases (like individual words in a spoken sentence). The natural flow of the music is in danger of fading at that point. I believe the most edits I used in on piece was five, and it was a long, difficult piece that still required more practice on my part. Most of these were two or three sections glued together.

(I also learned that I have no love for dogs that bark incessantly, nor patience for their owners. Microphones are not picky regarding what they record…)

After editing all twelve tracks and sending them to Michael Charles McDonald at Syntharts, he quickly did a simple reference mastering for each track (adding some compressions, EQ, and reverb) and sent me back a CD. The bad news: I confirmed that while I am blessed to have a good piano in my home teaching studio, it simply does not have the sound for these songs that I want released to the world.

The good news: I loved my performances and arrangements for these tracks. I now have a set of amazing demos for all twelve songs that I am now studying and practicing with. Yes, I am delayed, but I know this music so much better now.

I will begin recording again, likely in January at the home of my piano technician, Jay Hogan. I went to his home several weeks again to try his Yamaha C7, and I have to say that it is probably one of the top five pianos I have ever played! Such a beautiful warm tone, and ever so responsive to my slightest touch and thought. I can’t wait to record on it. Jay lives a way out of town, but the drives will be worth it.

So, we’re not quite back at square one, but I think you will appreciate the results.

May God bless all of you in the New Year. I’ll be in touch!

soli deo gloria



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[This is a continuation from my previous blogs, documenting the recording of my new solo piano CD, hammer & Wire.]

…and I pound the piano in frustration again. Yes, I have no self control, apparently.

I’ve been recording pieces for my new CD, Hammer & Wire for a couple days now, and I have discovered that it’s been just long enough since my last recording session for me to forget how naked one is in when those microphones are turned on. (Sorry to put that image in your head, BTW.) I have practiced the snot out of these pieces over the last few weeks, and I’ve felt really good about them, only to find how sloppy I really am when the record light turns on.

Why is that? Honestly, I know that I am doubting myself. Doubting the quality of my work. Doubting my ability to play this music. Doubting that anyone will care when it’s all said and done. I think I like the idea of people listening to my music, but actually taking the steps to make these musical ideas permanent, to allow others to judge them, to put my neck on the block, has me fearful.

I think too much about the end result, of what people might think. There’s that voice that says: “Why go to all this effort? Your life is fine without this. Just do what you’re already doing and leave this stuff to the pros.” And then I think I recognize that voice. (“Get behind me,” indeed…)

I’m actually doing what I’ve always wanted to do: Music. I just find it funny that as I get older, I still like the “idea” of making my living with music better than actually putting in the work required to do so. Or at least to do it to the best of the abilities that God has given me. When I get this way, I’m more than a little like the people we shake our heads at in the American Idol auditions. I want the “stardom” without the work.

Yet, I love this music, and I can’t wait for people to hear it. I just want them to hear it played well.

And then I ran across Eugene Peterson’s interpretation of Psalm 127:

“If God doesn't build the house, the builders only build shacks.
If God doesn't guard the city,
the night watchman might as well nap.
It's useless to rise early and go to bed late,
and work your worried fingers to the bone.
Don't you know he enjoys
giving rest to those he loves?”

Is it possible to rest in my work? Is it possible to trust God to work through me, to have His way? Is it still possible to feel his pleasure as I play these compositions? If He has given the gift, then I want to use it. But not in guilt or duty, but in pleasure and worship. I love to play these pieces when the stupid record light isn’t on. I need to find that place and enjoy this music again, so that those listening next month, next year, next decade, can also feel God’s pleasure, as well as my own. But finding that joy requires work. Hard work.

It’s time to quit fantasizing and hit record again.

And again, if necessary…


soli deo gloria


If you'd like to keep up on my music and events, join my mailing list at:
 
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[This is a continuation from my previous blogs, documenting the recording of my new solo piano CD, hammer & Wire.]

A lot of things can change in a couple days. This is why I pay professionals to do this stuff.

I just met with Michael Charles McDonald, my friend and recording engineer at Syntharts Studio. I had been expressing some concern regarding my recording this collection on the small grand piano in my home teaching studio. The piano sounded so small and thin compared to what my ears had been telling me as I practiced and composed on this instrument.

He took some of the sample recordings we did at my place and did a quick mastering job on them, adjusting the EQ, balancing the stereo mix of the two mics and adding a touch of reverb.

What came out of his speakers was the beautiful tone and warmth I had been looking for all along. I was amazed! And finally encouraged.

We had a great talk about why my ears and brain heard something so entirely different from what the microphones recorded. I realized that my brain had the ability to filter out some tuning issues, and to add certain frequencies where they were actually missing (especially in the bass range). (If you ever doubt the brain’s ability to fool you into thinking something sounds good when it doesn’t, simply watch an audition episode of American Idol.)

One factor that never occurred to me was how the vibrations from the piano itself can travel through bones to the ear. My body itself can become a resonant sound source, further coloring what I hear as I play the instrument! No one else, nor any microphone, can capture that aspect of the sound. We are fearfully and wonderfully made…

I also met with Debra Gregory, my graphic designer. She created the beautiful cover from my first solo piano collection, Impromptu in 2007. I met her at a local Starbucks, with my laptop loaded with various pictures of myself looking better than I usually do. I also had a collection of possible photos displaying some ideas for the packaging that had been rumbling around in my head. Now that we had created something together before, it was much easier to communicate and share our concepts quickly. Upon finishing up some other business, she’ll start assembling and creating ideas for the project at the end of the month.

I am moving ahead and will begin recording this next Monday in my home studio. Jay Hogan, my piano technician, will tune the piano in the morning, and Michael will arrive that evening with the microphones (We did finally settle on the Neumann 184’s). I hope to work late into the night as I start recording some of the quieter tracks, gradually moving up to the more aggressive songs that are more likely to knock the tuning out in the low register.

Upon finishing the tracks, I am going to investigate a possible alternate (but less convenient) piano that has been offered for my use. If we find that the tracks I lay down next week aren’t quite satisfactory, I may do a quick pass through the material on this other larger piano and see if it improves the results.

Nice to be moving forward.

soli deo gloria


If you'd like to keep up on my music and events, join my mailing list at:
 
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[This is a continuation from my previous blog, documenting the process of recording my new solo piano CD, Hammer & Wire.]

What about using my piano at home?

I had written it off, as it is a smaller instrument (a 5 foot Kohler & Campbell on loan to me from a friend), and it had suffered some technical issues. However, most of these issues had not been surfacing for a while, and each of these new pieces had been composed on it. I called up Michael Charles McDonald (my friend and recording guru at Syntharts Studio) and had him come over and listen.

Upon his suggestion, I had my piano technician (Jay Hogan) come and regulate my instrument, as well as soften up the hammers in the upper mid-range of the keyboard to even out the tone across the entire instrument. The results were very encouraging.

This past week, Michael returned with a collection of microphones that we placed in various positions around the piano to see how well each pair worked with this piano and my office space.

What followed was (and is) a fascinating and frustrating part of recording: my perceptions of my instrument vs. what really good microphones actually record. When practicing and teaching, I hear a fairly powerful instrument with good intonation and good, if not stunning, tone. I hear a good piano that is several steps up from my own Yamaha upright.

When listening through my studio monitors after having recorded that same piano through some very expensive microphones, I hear a good piano that sounds like a five foot Kohler & Campbell, not a 7 foot Yamaha or Steinway grand. Seems odd that I would be surprised, yet I was.

The brain is an amazing computer, is it not? The same sound waves entering those mics were also entering my ears. Yet I had become convinced that I was playing a much larger and warmer sounding piano than I actually was. This, by the way, is not a slam on my friend’s piano. I was merely rediscovering the truth about this piano and its size and design relative to a concert-grade instrument, which costs 3-6 times as much.

Michael came back over the other day and we tried one more mic position (inside the open piano, with thick blankets draped over the lid to cut echoing sound waves bouncing back from my office walls). The sound improved immensely. In order to try all my options, I’ve asked my piano technician to return for one more careful tuning, at which point we’ll set up the mics and I’ll try recording several of my new pieces as a test run.

If I don’t feel that we are capturing the spirit of these new pieces, I’ll have to return to square one and find another piano and start all this over again.

It has to be right.

soli deo gloria


[Geek Data: Microphones tried: Studio Projects C1 (X2); AKG 414 (X2); Neumann 184 (X2). For now we are actually planning to use the SP C1’s, which is surprising, considering these are by far the cheapest mics of the bunch.]

Long time, no blog, I know. In short I spent a good portion of the Summer months of 2011 completing work on twelve new solo piano pieces. I thought it might be interesting to document the production process of this new recording project and post updates on this blog. I’ll keep things moving, but I’ll also try to include some technical details for those of you who like to dig into the technology aspect of all of this.

Let me just start by saying: I love these new pieces. I can’t wait for you to hear them!

How to record them, though? My first solo piano collection, Impromptu, was recorded using a “virtual” piano. This was a software instrument living inside a PC that I controlled using my Yamaha S90ES keyboard. It worked very well, and most listeners were never aware that the “piano” I used resided inside a computer hard drive. (Geek data: I used Tascam’s GigaStudio Bösendorfer 290 virtual piano for that project.)

However, I really want to use the real thing this time around. There is something so… I dunno, almost organic about wood, steel, wire and sound waves interacting inside a real piano that sounds so perfectly … imperfect. It’s those subtle imperfections that give each piano its own character and personality. This concept actually inspired the title of this new project: Hammer & Wire.

The problem is, recording a project like this on a real, quality instrument is easier said than done.

It can be tricky to find a large, well-maintained grand piano that is also available for extended recording sessions in or near Eugene, OR. There are many churches with large grands, but most of these are not taken care of. In fact, most are actually abused through aggressive playing, unstable humidity and temperature in their environments, and simple lack of maintenance. I have found one great piano at a local church, but the traffic noise from the campus intersection outside renders the location impossible to record in. Other churches wouldn’t dream of renting out their facility to a stranger who wants to take over their sanctuary for a couple weeks…

I investigated a wonderful, privately-owned piano in a quiet neighborhood that I would have been allowed to rent. The instrument had a gorgeous sound when recorded, but it badly needed regulation and some other work on the keyboard, which I really didn’t want to ask the owner to invest in (as she was quite happy with her lovely piano the way it was). Add to that a fairly steep rental fee, and my meager production budget would have been blown before I had even finished recording.

I went home and practiced for a while, and the proverbial light bulb went on: What about the little piano in my home studio?

More soon…

soli deo gloria

I was standing behind my daughter yesterday as she played her new piece for me in her piano lesson.  My eyes wandered over to a nearby bookshelf, where, hidden behind some nick-knacks I noticed a forgotten piece of wood.  I picked it up and looked at it, lost in thought as she finished her song.  Just a fragile white stick with a rounded wooden handle at one end, about a foot long.  How could this little switch hold so many memories?

**********

I think I was 19 years old when I was trying to find what to do with my music.  I was a music major in college, and very good at playing dead people’s music.  However, I wanted to find a way to use my hands and heart to play modern music as an expression of my Christian faith, as worship.  Options were slim at my church, so I spoke with the priest at another local church when I heard they needed a pianist.  They would have paid $50 a week, but the services were lifeless and had no need of what I thought I could offer.

That next week at my own church, I ran into the guy who led the new worship band in our worship services.  (In 1991, having a band in a church service was still a relatively new idea.)  I just blurted out that I wondered if he needed another keyboard player (they already had two in the band).  He lit up and told me that, in fact, their pianist was needing to step down and they had an opening immediately.

I had no idea what a life-changing moment that conversation was.

Over the next few years, that bandleader, Jeff Brock, became my mentor and friend.  He would pick me and my keyboard up from my campus apartment and drive me to rehearsals.  He would teach me much about how to write songs for worship.  I gained much of my knowledge of music arranging from him.  How to speak in front of a group.  How to lead rehearsals.  How to play as part of an ensemble.  He came to my performances at school.  He dreamed of a music school at the church where young musicians could learn their craft and use their gifts in worship, as even then the music programs in the public schools were shrinking.

I’ll never forget the lunch I had with him when I wasn’t sure if I should continue dating my girlfriend Cathy.  The result of his advice was my trip to the jeweler to design her engagement ring.

In March, 1995, he sat the band down and announced that the cough he had been fighting for a few months was actually stage four lung cancer.  His journey through his fight with the disease was amazing to watch.  His faith in Christ was so deep at the core of his being that death held little fear for him.

It was around this time that my church approached me with the opportunity to be a part-time intern in the music ministry.  I would continue to work part-time in the machine shop I was at, while planning and leading worship once every couple months.  I accepted, but hadn’t anticipated how quickly Jeff’s health would decline.  Almost immediately, I was leading and/or planning worship every week.

One Wednesday evening, when rehearsal had wrapped up, the band took me into a conference room.  It had been determined that there wasn’t much else the doctors could do for Jeff.  The cancer had spread to his brain.  Jeff hadn’t played with us in a few months.

In this conference room was a huge ice cream cake and a small wrapped package.  Inside the package was a thin white conductor’s baton.  I looked up at the group, questions in my eyes.  They said that Jeff wanted to give this to me in person, but was too ill to come in that night.  It was a symbol of his passing the leadership of the music ministry to me, an ordination of sorts.  He passed away soon after that, on January 29, 1996.

Fifteen years ago today.

I still work at the same church.  I still climb the steps to the same stage every Sunday.  Jeff wouldn’t recognize the church now, so much has happened through the years.  Only two of the same staff remain, I am the only musician left from the band he led, and the membership has almost completely changed.

I recently pulled out two of his songs to start singing again in our services.  As I taught one of them to the band, I noticed I was playing the same guitar voicings he used all those years ago.  I can still see his fingers in my mind as I would follow his changes from the piano.  I still hear his voice as I sing these songs.  When I recorded my first CD, I wrote many of those songs as therapy for myself as I mourned losing him.  (I even included a quote from his song, “Hope of Heaven” in the fade-out of the last song.)

There are days when I love my work at my church.  There are days I’d rather quit.  There are times when I wonder if I’ve let him down, or how much longer I can do this.  Yet, beneath all the questions, I’ve always had a peace, an understanding that this is where I’m supposed to be.

I realize now that I am the same age he was when he mentored me (he died at age 42).  That doesn’t seem possible.

I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t bumped into him in the hallway all those years ago.  The impact on my life, my career, my marriage, and my music is immeasurable.  I doubt he realized how much his friendship and guidance meant to me and my family.

And I wonder whom I am influencing now.

**********

My daughter looked up at me and the thin white baton in my hand.  “What’s that, Daddy?”

“Oh, it’s just a gift from an old friend.”


soli deo gloria