The role of the shooter was played by Steve Friedrick, who co-produced and co-directed the video with me. He also handled all the editing and post-production, which is great because I would have gone insane looking at myself so much. I also would have made it a lot blurrier and layered a lot more effects over my face. In fact, the extent of my contribution to post-production, when Steve was showing me draft edits, was to tell him to use more effects and to dirty it up more. The original footage (shot with my Canon T2i) was painfully crisp and clear. You could count the whiskers on my chin. I don’t know how any actor can survive the scrutiny of the HD camera lens these days. I’ve been noticing more lately how on-screen talent (from newscasters to dramatic performers) use makeup and other techniques to hide the natural process of aging. Some appear to have a “no extreme close-ups” written right into their contract. Anyway, while I’m not afraid of revealing any “age lines,” I’m still a little weirded out by seeing my face so clearly. Especially when I’m performing a caricature of evil incarnate.

I knew that I could not successfully embody said evil if I just played it straight (whatever “straight evil” means). So here you get me channelling Tom Waits, which, either because I’m not being very successful or because I’m not actually Mr. Waits, ends up looking unique enough for a music video. Steve brought the goggles and they are roughly half the character. That wicked smile was quite painful to hold and my jaw hurt at the end of each take. The twitchy dance technique also burned quite a few calories and I was pretty well wiped after a couple takes. Such is the price we must pay for our art.

That’s where the alien comes into play. A single, focused idea that gives you a little taste of the Delirium Dog live thing we were doing married with some semi-hot alien-dancing action. Ursula has always wanted to put on a puppet show so I brought the alien along for her to play with when she was not singing or pressing buttons. It was her idea to add the lights to his (or her?) arms, which really makes it. We’ve talked about doing our whole act as a puppet show. It could happen. Until then, you’ve got this as a teaser.

Then I remembered that I had downloaded, but not installed, an upgrade to MetaSynth. I haven’t used MetaSynth in years. It’s been so long that the thought gives me nostalgia. Going from version 2.5 to 5+, I had some catching up to do. I also bundled with it their program Xx, a composition tool that pairs with Metasynth (why not?). I opened up both and started to click around.

Meanwhile, I still had a musical composition to finish (secret squirrel project that I will explain someday), so I went back to good old Logic Pro and pieced together a few more sections of the tune. At one point, I wondered if I should be doing this in Abelton Live instead, but figured I could go there later if I wanted. I’m still more comfortable composing in Logic.

But the video tools were still calling me and I realized that, as a Final Cut Pro user, I had just flirted big time with Premier without having even yet downloaded the new major upgrade to Final Cut. And as the free 30-day trial to Final Cut X was downloading, I opened the latest version Motion and clicked around to see what was different.

Yes, this is all true. I really am nutty enough to purchase several huge, deep applications covering video, graphics, motion graphics, music and sound all in one weekend. Granted, it was a long holiday weekend, but still.

Final Cut X opens up and I feel like a child again taking my first steps in a scary new world. It’s quite different from it’s predecessor. Ten minutes and a nice youtube overview later, I’m importing video from my live performance last month and slogging through an edit.

By the time Sunday evening rolled around, I had achieved precious little. So many awesome and powerful tools, but so little done. Did I mention the new plugins for Logic and Live that I just installed and have not even glanced at? Or the ever-present Web browser windows floating around my desktop, taunting me. Facebook, Twitter, WashingtonPost.com…

I remembered all the progress I made with Abelton Live just a month ago and how I was going to dive even deeper into it an make that my total focus for the rest of the year. I think it will have to wait a few more weeks.

I know I will eventually master some this software, and hopefully moderately competent in the rest. But right now, my brain hurts and I’m frozen by all the possibilities.

Brother, can I borrow 10,000 hours?

Click fast! This will only be available for a few weeks (or until I run out of space on Soundcloud and need to replace it). Click the little arrow on the right to download for free.

The deal was that sometimes the groups passing through the Scarehouse would be spaced out more than five or ten minutes apart. This was not often, but during those times I would go into a holding pattern until the next group showed up. This made for a recording that was, to my ears, irritatingly repetitive at times. So now if you find the edited recording to be irritatingly repetitive, I have not excuse other than it seemed to make sense at the time.

The first three tracks (“Summoned,” “Stay” and “T.O.L.S.”) are extended versions of the ones found on Delirium Dog’s first two albums. The last tune, “Shragger’s Blues,” came from my new fascination with Abelton Live. While all the music was performed using Live, all the little bits were reassembled from Logic Pro. “Shragger’s” is the first tune that I composed completely within the program. The hot drum beats come from a solo I recorded from drummer Rich Shragger back in 1999, when we were in a band together. When the horn section kicks in, it’s from a 1929 recording of “Blue Is The Night” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4TGBGyafhc4). And other sounds from I don’t know where.

On the tail end of “Stay” is a dubstep style riff that also did not exist before I was preparing for the live show. When I was saving the pieces in Logic Pro, I found myself creating new permutations as well as saving bits that never made the final mix. In some cases, they sound like a whole new song.

Enjoy!

Actually, that’s my first thought now that it’s over. My first thought when we started playing on the first night was “What the hell am I doing!?!?” I’ve had that thought at several moments over the past few weeks preparing for this gig. It especially hit home while putting on my custom-made costume, which is pretty fab but includes a neon green fishnet top which, let me just say, has never been a part of my wardrobe prior to Friday night.

I’ve managed to be free of Impostor Syndrome for  quite a while. Years, maybe. Then came my battle with Who The Hell Cares About What I’m Doing Syndrome. (“There are a million people out there on the internet making music and starving kids all over the world–what makes you feel like you’re so special, Delirium Boy?” That sort of thing.) The supportive atmosphere I found at The ScareHouse, as well as online and other friendly corners of my life, helped me greatly with this. But then the What The Hell Am I Doing Syndrome sneaks up on me and it feels like a proxy for all the previous syndromes combined. My wife reminded me that this is what happens quite often to every artist, and I think “oh yeah, I guess so” and try not to think about it any further.

Then the performance starts. If you’ve read my previous post, you’ll know what an odd type of “show” this is. It took a while for the first visitors to wind their way through the first haunt (“Foresaken”) and into Delirium, so starting early as we did was not necessary and the first 20 minutes was basically a holding pattern. No problem, I was still getting my bearings.

The “pulsing” of the groups that evening was strange. We started to see groups coming through, then there would be 5 or 10 minutes with nobody. I tried to time it so that we were not singing our hearts out to an empty room (more than half the songs contain some singing) and got better at extending or shortening sections of the songs as needed. I would use the spaces between groups to switch songs. Ableton Live cannot have two projects open at once, so I would cross-fade to a sound bed on my ipod for the 30 seconds or so it takes for me to open a new song.

What was difficult as a performer was getting any sense of reaction from the highly transient and distracted audience. This was easier Saturday night when there was a sold-out crowd and a more continuous stream of people. Great energy. It often felt like a real party at which new people were constantly were arriving and joining in. I never got tired of seeing people stumble in, a tad disoriented, take in the wacky surroundings and start to dance. One group appeared to be professional club-hoppers because they were dressed the part and could really dance. I was glad to see that the music worked for them.

With all the distractions, few people could actually see me, but some (and not just my brother) waved and acknowledged that they knew who I was. At 8ish, we were told that four Ghost Hunters would soon be passing through. I had a good groove going and didn’t want to risk stopping it just as they entered but ended up keeping the same tune going for over 20 minutes. I felt less guilty about that when closing time rolled around nearly seven hours after we started. That was a lot of time to fill, and somehow I did it without repeating any piece more than twice. Maybe it was a time warp. Perhaps we were abducted by aliens. Maybe the rest of the cast of Delirium are aliens. Who’s to say? The fact they didn’t want to kill me after many hours of sonic assault definitely raises my suspicions.

During the final hour, delirium was more than just a concept–it was our true state of mind. I was working a new high-energy piece that strings together dozens of variations of the Amen Break with sound effects, rhythmic bird chirps, deep bass hooks, and other bits of randomness. (You may not realize it, but the Amen Break is etched into your sonic memory in a way that forces you to want to dance.) Thinking that closing time must be just a few minutes away, I must have kept that going for 45 minutes–adding different effects to extend the sounds and slowly boosting the beats per minute to keep people from falling asleep. I searched my hard drive for more sounds to throw in, but I’ve kept the performance computer lean. Too lean, apparently. Next weekend, I’ll be better prepared.

Certainly I’ve played to smaller audiences, but never a stranger one in a stranger venue. We (Ursula and I) will be in a “DJ booth” about eight feet off the ground inside the ScareHouse’s Delirium 3-D haunt. Guests will be handed 3-D Glasses upon entering this neon world in which every flat surface leaps at you with whimsical imagery. The sets and cast members create the atmosphere of a cartoonish rave inside the whacked-out mind of Delirium, who is there to meet you at the end of the haunt with her new friend, Cupcake.

The "DJ Booth" looks down upon the visitors of Delirium 3-D. Photo by Rachelle Gasparich.

And then there’s music. Loud, pulsating music. On nights we are not performing there’s an eclectic mix of pop, rock, electronica, and novelty songs (including some Delirium Dog) that are all dance or groove oriented in some way. But for six special nights (Sept 30th, Oct. 1st, and Oct. 6th-9th) we will be performing Delirium Dog songs (and some Delirium-ified covers) completely live.

Although I will be triggering a lot of pre-recorded loops and samples, I have it set up in such a way that things will never come out the same way twice. In fact, I expect the longer we perform, the more I will be mutating the songs to the point that they are barely recognizable. I can remix the songs as we go and add all sorts of wacky effects on the fly. Both Ursula and I will be singing live, of course.

The new "DJ Booth" performance area. Computer running Ableton Live, mixer, Launchpad, vocal processor & microphone. Photo by Rachelle Gasparich .

Obviously, these shows will not be seen or heard as one does a typical concert. Instead, the guests of Delirium 3-D will experience a few intense minutes of sound and visuals and catch a glance of us if they look up at the right time. Maybe you’ll hear us playing one of our popular favorites or maybe we’ll be riffing away on some strange combination of sounds and beats. We’d love for you to be able to stay a while, but alas, at the end you surrendor your 3-D glasses and go on to be accosted by zombies in the next haunt. (Does that make me an opening act for a horde of zombies?!)

The music sounds great in the spinning tunnel.

This is all a grand experiment. I figure that after 6 nights for about 5 hours / night, we’ll be pretty good at performing this music. After that, who knows where we’ll show up. Finding a venue that is more suitable for an audience to watch and listen to us perform a whole set should not be hard. But finding a venue more suitable for our first performance would be impossible. Delirium Dog was first born in this wacky place, and it only makes sense that we make our live debut there.

I’ve been spending most of every waking hour on this fun, yet highly laborious project of moving all my Delirium Dog material from Logic Pro to Ableton Live. Why? Because Ursula and I will be performing the music live at The ScareHouse for six nights (Sept. 30, Oct. 1st, and Oct. 6th-9th).

I committed to this months ago because I knew it would force me to make this big push and solve a lot of technical issues that have been bugging me. I’ve been making all this music without much of a plan for performing it. Figuring out the best way to do that has been bending my brain a bit.

I’m still new to Ableton Live and the more I learn how it works the more I’m enjoying it. It’s brilliant software, really, and lends itself well to what I’m trying to do. The only question right now is: can I become enough of an expert in a month to really make the thing sing? Probably. I know it will at least sound as good and more interesting than just pressing play on the iPod. I have several songs already converted over to Live and can verify that much.

Ursula and I will be singing live (for the 20% or so tunes that require it), which will help give things a live feel. I’ll be mixing and arranging things on the fly. I haven’t decided if I will be playing any live instruments, beyond a little keyboard (I mean physically little). I’m trying to keep this simple and that would introduce a whole other set of issues. I lieu of that, I’m working on ways to make the music variable and different each time it’s performed.

The music will be mostly heard by guests waiting in line at The ScareHouse and for the few minutes that they are walking through the Delirium 3-D attraction. At least it will be loud. On the second weekend (when hopefully all the kinks have been worked out) we may stream the performance onto this very internet you are now using. Watch my Facebook or Twitter feed for updates on that.

The only folks likely to hear the whole performance are the cast members performing in Delirium 3-D. They will be our fully captive audience. For five hours a night. For that reason alone, I want the music to be engaging, ever-changing, and fleshed out enough to fill 3-5 hours with little repetition. No problem!

Did I mention that it takes about three hours per song just to export the clips from Logic and then another hour or so to assemble them into Live? Ok, then, back to it…

Lots of reasons. Many of them are technical. You gear up to create and record music and, while in that mode, it makes more sense to make a batch rather than a one-off. This made more sense in the big studio era, but even working in a home studio as I do, you have things configured a certain way when you’re really cranking out the music.

Then there’s the fact that musical distribution still strongly favors the album. There are many aspects to this, but I will save them for another post because I’d like to focus on the most important reason for albums to exist.

I have always loved albums and still believe in them as an art form. I grew up listening to music as sets of songs recorded and conceived together and sequenced in a (hopefully) thoughtful way. An album of songs creates a larger artwork that a single song alone cannot achieve. (Maybe that is the definition of a music album! My definition, anyway.)

Any album worth its salt is more than just a bunch of songs thrown together.  Good albums are rooms, houses, fields, clubs, rivers, or streams. Dank basements or sterile hotel rooms. These are places your sonic mind can inhabit, spend some time there, and return there when needed. The songs speak to each other, bounce off one another, and meld together in our minds. Good albums create a cloud of images, impressions, ideas and emotions that we carry in our memory. Our favorite albums are like close friends with which we sustain long-term relationships with all the ups and downs that go with them.

Songs are poems, albums are short stories or novellas. Having typically been recorded together over a focused period of time, an album of songs are the result of intense artistic obsession. Without that obsession, the album probably would have not been finished. We all try to act like it was an effortless process, but finishing a whole set of songs requires a sustained push through all the creative ups and downs that occur during any big project. For many musicians, an album is the largest kind of project they will ever take on. It’s a big mountain to climb, and it’s not for wimps.

I know there are a lot of people who just want to get that one song that they know and like and never think twice about it as a part of a larger work. But should we trust the future of the music industry to those people alone? Frankly, I’ve always thought of such people as strange. Ok, not strange (there are the vast majority as far as I can tell) but it is a mindset I simply cannot understand. Yes, I’ve often enjoyed listening to singles–but I am always, always curious about the artist’s larger body of work. Was that one great song a fluke, or are they frequently just as brilliant? Does the song define their style, or was it just a little digression or stylistic experiment? I must know these things when I hear a song I like.

Yes, I’m a musician and as one obsessed with music and sound from a very young age, am prone to thinking about music this way. But I also know a lot of non-musicians who have a similarly active relationship with their music collection. (And bless them because without them it would be just us musicians patting each other on the back.) It’s a given that real music fans look at their collection as a series of albums. How can you think of it any other way?

Having just finished an album that I’m finally releasing into the world, I sure hope it isn’t my last. And I hope that the art of the album is with us for a long time to come.

What amazes me about tools like this is how wonderfully cool they are when you first encounter them, and then how quickly they can become commonplace. Then, they can eventually become stale or just overused. We’ll see how this one fares.

Note  that it only works in some browsers (I used Firefox). In other browsers it can appear to only half-work and might leave you confused.

You can adjust several parameters, so it’s worth trying some different settings to get just the right effect. Have fun!

Last week, I came up with three possible album titles. One obviously good one (in my mind) and two obviously lesser ones. One of the lesser ones was something like “Trance Chimera” but a friend of mine mentioned that trance is too generic a word in electronica these days. If you buy a keyboard, it’s likely to have a trance button or preset right on it. So ok, I ditched the Trance title and came up with another odd choice that I knew would be equally rejected: “Fever Brain Battery.” I don’t know where it came from. I was just trying to fill the slot.

I put up all three for a vote, knowing that Vox Anodyne was surely, clearly the best title. And here were the results, with 24 votes in…

Fever Brain Battery was the runaway winner! Maybe it’s because I put it first on the list. Maybe. Or maybe it’s just better. I have to say, it does seem to wear well. I like that it could possibly mean something, but never the exact same thing each time you read it. Like a chord that never completely resolves. I like lyrics like that, too.

So the people win…and I lose? Well, they’re all my titles. I allowed people to enter titles of their own, and I only got gag responses. (A high school friend posted “My Colon’s Rally Cap” — har har, Dan!) So I guess I win, too. I was talked out of a lesser title, and I still have Vox Anodyne to kick around for maybe a song title later on.