178 entries under "sound"

Lisa Hannigan: What’ll I Do

From Passenger (2011). Starting hook got my attention right away. Bright, sunny vibes created with vocals, strings, bass, percussion, and clapping; some of it would normally feel cliché to me, but I enjoyed this. The constant offbeats create a deep swing effect: your body will move.

Murali Coryell: Softly Let Me Kiss Your Lips

From Eyes Wide Open (2000). Prepare yourself for nine minutes of ‘stank-face inducing’ blues vocals, guitar solos, lush organ chords, straight on the triplet drums, scatting… Imagine starting your day with this.

Clogs: Kapsburger

From Lantern (2006). Pure instrumental bliss in this journey that lasts just two minutes. Simple harmonies on guitar that surprise by shifting with subtle voice-leading (often changing one note of the chord at a time). There might be hints of Bach in here, or maybe I’m just projecting what I want to hear.

Amit Trivedi: Shubhaarambh

From Kai Po Che ! (2013). Soundtrack for a Bollywood film, with lyrics in Gujarati. The introduction has a strong time feel without any rhythmic accompaniment. There’s bagpipes (!), and I know how odd it might be to feature that in Indian music, but the duduk-like instrument called ‘shehnai’ went right to my heart.

Ornette Hawkins: Raw Sun Live Sessions (2018)

Live jazz-infused drum and bass from an artist with a killer name.

The Everly Brothers: All I Have to Do Is Dream (1958 single)

One of the first things I played in public on the piano when growing up; the harmony fits perfectly in one hand and can be pretty satisfying to repeat for hours—great way to learn about 3rd and 6ths.

The Dixie Cups: Chapel of Love

From Chapel of Love (1964). Super soulful vibe created from vocals, bass, horns, glockenspiel, drums, and clapping—fewer ingredients than ice cream.

Bobbie Gentry: Reunion

From The Delta Sweete (1968). Complex interleaving of multiple parts with folksy Southern USA accents. Listen to the percussive clapping, bass drum, and guitar on the left channel, with voice and trumpets in the right channel. Reminds me of Moondog.

Israel Fernández: Fiesta (Bulería)

At COLORSxSTUDIOS (2021). The simplicity of a powerful voice accompanied by delicate clapping and feet hitting the floor, heard in stereo. Even without understanding the lyrics, one can appreciate how the fierce singing cuts through your prefrontal lobe. An example of making music with the body and whatever’s around (the desk might have been my primary instrument for years). As an aside: there’s too much good music on this show, and I would appreciate recommendations.

Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith: Rare Things Grow

From EARS (2016). Mishmash of many exquisite textures: water glugging, saxophone flutters with delay and reverb, possessed drone voices, quartal harmonies, celestial singing, some shakers in just the right places. Hinting at indigenous musics through instrumentation and motifs, but unapologetically electronic, jazz, and modern. The cover art might be a good metaphor for how this strange and beautiful thing makes you want to keep staring, or listening.

Asmaa Hamzaoui, Bnat Timbouktou: Oulad Lghaba (2019)

I love Gnawa music. Powerful sound from this all female group (the backup singers translate to “Timbuktu girls”). A smattering of polyrhythms everywhere makes it feel like there are usually multiple meters happening simultaneously. Listen to the intricate yet free-flowing ornamentation in the lead singer’s voice and to the bluesy notes of the guembri (like a bass). Hope I will have the privilege to hear them live some day; if you want to get some idea for how the music is performed, see this live concert from Poland.

Ondatrópica: 3 Reyes de la Terapia

From Ondatrópica (2012). Intense combination of beatboxing and breathing (or perhaps hyperventilating) with a repetitive pattern that seems like it’s performed live and not a copy/paste of the same audio. This backdrop makes a strange fusion with the Cumbia-style improvising accordion. Dark and interesting like chocolate 80% noir.

Jazz Pianist Reacts to SKATE by Anderson .Paak and Bruno Mars

I was once fascinated by the feeling of being moved nearly to tears by a series of chords, yet not able to explain what that means to people without lots of experience making music… Charles Cornell gets at some of this, albeit still talking to musicians, but with more heart-warming enthusiasm than I might display publicly (for something that can seem so technical): it’s clear that he has a strong personal and emotional connection to what he’s hearing, and that this is enriched by a deeper understanding of the materials. As he mentions, there are different ways to interpret musical harmony, but this might be a good way to get a glimpse at how music nerds (like me) hear songs. You might also learn a thing or two about theory, and share his excitement at how this song brings complex techniques into mainstream music.

Alvin Lucier: The Duke of York

From Bird and Person Dyning (1972–1973). I skipped the Latin recitation in the beginning, but feel free to hear from the start—either way, try to stick with it for the whole experience. Simple processes and simple inputs over time transform your perception; instead of proposing ‘what’ to listen, the composer guides us 'how’ to listen. The use of stereo is for guiding your attention (if you allow it). As it develops, it feels like being inside of someone else’s trip: notice how provocations create a chain of effects in sound, how it still feels 'organic’ despite being heavily electronic; observe the unfolding of a process, someone playing with their own perception and yours, often leading to surprise without shock.

Alvin Lucier: I Am Sitting In A Room (1981)

Speaking seamlessly morphs into ‘room’, sounding ethereal like a vortex has opened, alive and shimmering. Simple production technique on a simple text to create something profound. It takes a magician to create something out of nothing, or maybe just perception… We can always listen more.

I am sitting in a room different from the one you are in now. I am recording the sound of my speaking voice, and I am going to play it back into the room again and again, until the resonant frequencies of the room reinforce themselves, so that any semblance of my speech, with perhaps the exception of rhythm, is destroyed. What you will hear, then, are the natural resonant frequencies of the room, articulated by speech. I regard this activity not so much as a demonstration of a physical fact, but more as a way to smooth out any irregularities my speech might have.

Tkay Maidza: 24k

From Last Year Was Weird, Vol. 2 (2020). Velvet smooth electronic dance grove, lyrics and breathing slotted into the beat perfectly. Nothing to do here except ride along.

Ayyuka: Maslak Halayı (2020)

Unapologetic and seamless weaving of psychedelic rock, Turkish scales and melodies, prepared electronic ambience and live instruments. Pay attention to the effects, the intensity without ‘loudness’, the microtonal inflections played on seemingly ordinary electric guitar. Tight drumming and a badass vibe throughout the album. My favourites: Maslak Halayı fills me with power; Yukadans is alive, helps body move, cool harmonizing between the two leads near the end; Komalı’s got that pitch bending that I love from some kinds of Arab music; Ah Be Baba is an adventure filled with sudden turns and odd meters.

Ghar ki Mehfil: Chaap Tilak Sab Chheeni (2014)

Great example of music as communal experience: the lead singers invite people in the ‘audience’ (using words, or music and movement itself) to participate—at times it feels like a salon discussion even though it’s mostly musical throughout. I’m not familiar with this style of music, but it’s wonderful to observe singing with devotion intense ornamentation. Fun to see others enjoying music not just in the mind but with hands and much of the upper body. I linked to a part that skips the introduction with many individuals in the room 'taking the spotlight’ to sing, which is beautiful to watch (start from the beginning if you want to check that out). As asides: 1) bonus points that this occurred in Montreal; and 2) refreshing and nostalgic to hear this pre-pandemic performance with people coughing loudly without masks or stigma.

The Halluci Nation: Electric Pow Wow Drum

From A Tribe Called Red (2013). There’s already so much power in traditional indigenous chanting, to add blasting electronic synths and amplification gives it just a little more oomph. Possible to tastefully connect such far away aesthetics. Super simple form, but interesting timbres from metal shakers and leather-skinned drums.

Lyra Pramuk: Tendril

From Fountain (2020). The celestial feeling evoked without words shows what is possible with the simplest of materials: only voice, no other instruments, minimal effects (mostly reverb and echo); the layering of parts to create rich harmonies; a variety of vocal textures, syllables, sounds. There is a kind of static rhythm throughout the whole work, but contrast in the form keeps it interesting. A sublime creation.