Barb Caffrey's Blog

Writing the Elfyverse . . . and beyond

Posts Tagged ‘music

More Music Discussion Upon the Passings of Ozzy Osbourne and Chuck Mangione

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I know that’s an unwieldy title, folks…but it at least is an honest one! And it is descriptive, so…here we go.

Chuck Mangione passed away earlier this week at age 84. He played the trumpet and the flugelhorn, was considered one of the first “smooth jazz” or “soft jazz” icons, and played with an uncanny lightness of being. That’s why his mega-hit song “Feels So Good” still shows up in so many different contexts.

As I said yesterday in my blog, Mangione was trained to be a jazz trumpeter first, and played with Art Blakely’s Jazz Messengers. The Jazz Messengers play a very traditional type of jazz that’s usually exemplified by bebop, with some 1950s/early 1960s jazz expressionism (from Miles Davis and John Coltrane; think the LP Kind of Blue and you’re getting somewhere) thrown in.

For those of you who don’t know a lot about music, or jazz in particular, think about trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie, he of the tilted-up trumpet. (If you’ve ever seen his signature trumpet, with the bell pointed usually straight up at an angle, you’ll know instantly who I’m talking about.) Dizzy was a great bebop trumpeter and always was; in his youth, he and Charlie Parker made their names playing in the same small group.

So, here’s why I mentioned Dizzy Gillespie, folks. Dizzy was the best of friends with Mangione until the end of his life. Dizzy recognized good music when he heard it, and he didn’t care if it was “too soft” or “not hard enough” or “not swinging enough” for the cognoscenti of the jazz world.

Mangione, mind you, had a great sense of humor, and was often on animated programs sending himself up. He took what he did seriously, but he didn’t take himself seriously, and maybe that’s why his music was so good.

Anyway, you might be asking why I’m talking so much about Mangione when Ozzy Osbourne, who just died at the age of 76, is by far the bigger name. (Rock is just that much more popular than jazz.) Mangione did something different, and not just because he played the flugelhorn more often than his trumpet; because of that, he and Ozzy Osbourne actually have some things in common.

See, Ozzy came up with the famed hard-rock group Black Sabbath. They were perhaps the first heavy metal band to become not only popular, but household names. This was only partly because of the name Black Sabbath (which was picked as it was divisive and memorable, no doubt); it mostly was because they were working on a wholly new style of music, one that was mutating almost faster than thought.

Black Sabbath featured heavier drums, louder and “crunchier” bass playing, and it was set off to perfection by Ozzy’s vocal stylings. The subject matter was often about difficult subjects like death, war, suicide, intense frustration…while such things had been discussed before, they hadn’t been discussed so openly or with so much feeling behind it.

When Ozzy and Black Sabbath parted ways, no one knew, least of all Ozzy, that he’d have a bigger second act by himself than he’d had with Black Sabbath. But that’s what happened, all because he took risks. He sang “Perry Mason,” which had nothing to do with angst or anger and everything to do with nostalgia and how sometimes we really need someone to fix things for us. (Perry Mason was almost legendary in being able to fix nearly anything in a legal context, after all.) He sometimes leaned into his fame, such as with the songs “Crazy Train” and “No More Tears.” He also showed a willingness to work with all sorts of different types of musicians, which is possibly the best thing I could say about him or any other musician as it shows he was more about the music than the fame.

So, Ozzy, with Black Sabbath and without them, was helping to define the new type of music called heavy metal. Mangione was helping to define the new type of jazz, a softer, more inclusive, more melodic jazz that regular people could hear and understand right off.

Both men were all about the music. They also had good senses of humor (Ozzy’s wasn’t known until the reality show about his family, The Osbournes, came into being), played all over the world, were household names (or at least their biggest songs were), and did what they were born to do.

Now, I can see at least some of you shaking your heads, because Ozzy had drug issues, once bit the head off a live bat, and when in some sort of fugue once killed all of the household’s cats. There’s no way Mangione would’ve done those latter things. (I don’t know about the drug issues, mind you, as many musicians of all types have used various types of recreational drugs throughout known history. I can only say I am not aware of it in Mangione’s case.)

That’s all true. But I think one of the reasons we’re on this Earth is to learn, grow, and be the best person we are able to be. Ozzy Osbourne and Chuck Mangione both showed growth throughout their lifetimes, gave pleasure to millions with their music, and were both known at the end of their lives as good people who did the best they could.

I don’t know of a better epitaph than that, and it applies to both men.

Linkin Park Hires a New Co-Lead Singer, and I Have Thoughts…

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In case you haven’t heard yet, Linkin Park has a new lead singer, or probably better explained as co-lead singer along with singer/rapper Mike Shinoda. They needed someone because their iconic lead singer Chester Bennington died seven years ago by his own hand, and most of Linkin Park wanted to play together again. (The exception was their original drummer, Rob Bourdon.) So they’ve hired a woman, Emily Armstrong, who fronted a group known as Dead Sara, to sing the parts that Chester would’ve sung had he still been alive.

Note that I did not say “to replace Chester,” as there’s no way to replace Chester Bennington. But Linkin Park wanted/needed someone to sing those parts, and Emily Armstrong can sing melodies and then scream in a heartfelt way. My guess is that Emily A. sings in a similar range to Chester, or at least is close enough that with some minor arrangements (perhaps changing the key signature and/or mode — as lots of groups use modes like Mixolydian, Lydian, Dorian, etc., in addition in order to better reflect a mood or feeling), Linkin Park’s songs can be rendered well enough for fans to appreciate them.

This is a big controversy because of two things. One, you can’t replace Chester; he had a unique set of skills, including an emotional awareness that was almost uncanny, that could never be reproduced by anyone else. Two, one of Chester’s sons, Jamie, is very unhappy about this. Jamie pointed out that September is International Suicide Awareness month, which seems disrespectful to him as his father Chester died by suicide.

That raises a good point: as Linkin Park had been working with Emily A., quietly, for months, why didn’t Linkin Park wait another month to drop this news? Or why not move it up into August? Why court this sort of drama when you don’t have to?

See, there was someone else, a musician — I can’t remember the guy’s name right now — who had reported about four, maybe five months ago that he’d heard that Linkin Park had hired a new female singer. Mike Shinoda and other Linkin Park members pooh-poohed this and said if there was any news to report, they’d report it themselves, thank you.

But the guy who reported this was a fellow musician. I knew at the time, being a musician myself, that something was undoubtedly going on even though the guy who’d said he’d heard Linkin Park had a new lead female singer backtracked pretty quickly once Mike Shinoda, et. al., basically said the man should mind his own business. Still, from that report, I figured Linkin Park was probably rehearsing, trying to lay tracks in the music studio, and figure out if a combo with some woman — who we know now to be Emily A. — was commercially viable.

That’s exactly what was going on, as we now know.

My thoughts on this are a bit mixed. First, it is hard for me to conceive of anyone singing the parts Chester sang so well and so distinctively. Chester Bennington was an integral part of Linkin Park, and as I said before, I do not believe he can ever be replaced. But second, as a musician, I know that the members of Linkin Park wanted to play again. It’s been seven years since they last played a concert in public, and most of them (Rob Bourdon, original drummer, aside) were itching to get out there and to perform.

I can’t blame any musician for wanting to perform, OK? That’s kind of what we do, providing we’re healthy enough to do it. Every performance, even of a well-known song like Linkin Park’s “In the End,” is a little different, because the energy of the crowd may be different. Or maybe one or more of the group members is feeling especially emotive. Or there’s some extra tenderness in a quiet musical interlude. Or the bombastic, up-tempo stuff seems to have extra fire one day, while the next, while still fun to listen to and hopefully fun for the group members to play, doesn’t quite meet that level of intensity.

This is true of any human music group anywhere in the history of time. Live music has variables to it, and can be extremely good one night, good the next, a bit off the third (though probably the audience won’t recognize it, the members of the group assuredly will know and feel like they let themselves down), and back to good the fourth night. It is just the nature of the beast.

As I’ve said before at my blog, there are such things as post-concert highs and post-concert lows. For example, I believe famous singer Chris Cornell may well have been dealing with a post-concert low before he called his wife and sounded so odd just a few hours before he took his own life. Audience members, from what I can recall at the time as he passed a couple of months before Chester did, said that Chris seemed frustrated, maybe a little unhappy, and his performance was not necessarily up to par. Again, some of this is the nature of the beast, and every musician worth his/her/their salt knows it. But it can be hard to remember, in the moment, that as wonderful as music is, and as wonderful as it is that some people get to live their dreams and make a living from music, that being a musical performer is not the sum total of everything we are.

I’ve had both post-concert highs and post-concert lows. They can be disconcerting, but the lows are worse by far than the highs. On those nights, I wonder why I even bothered to take up an instrument. (I don’t sing in public and am glad I don’t.) My hands felt a little off, maybe, or it was very hot outside and playing an outdoor concert was uncomfortable and unpleasant. Either way, it affected my performance for the worse. Because of that, I felt like I’d let down the audience, let down the group I was playing in, let down myself too, and just wished the ground would swallow me up, whole.

At any rate, getting back to Linkin Park and their new singer Emily A. — I think we should give the new-look and new-sound Linkin Park a bit of time to see how things go. I also think that as open-hearted as Chester B. often was, he’d not want to keep his bandmates from making music with someone else (even if it doesn’t feel easy for fans).

Finally, Shinedown’s lead singer Brent Smith posted on social media that he believes Linkin Park is doing what’s right for them. It sounded to me like Smith also believes fans should give the new version of Linkin Park time, and at least be open to listening to Emily A.’s vocals. (He spoke in a quite complimentary manner of Emily A., too.)

I think that’s a good position to take, and it’s one I can live with.

So, while I still wish that Chester was alive, singing his heart out, and playing/singing music to his heart’s content, I’m at least willing to listen to the new version. I make no promises yet as to what I think…but I will at least listen, and hope all goes well for them.

Dissecting Shinedown’s Song “A Symptom of Being Human”

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First, before I get into my dissection — it’ll be quick, painless, and maybe even fun — I want you to listen to Shinedown’s song “A Symptom of Being Human.” (Bonus: this YouTube link will show you their video along with it, as per usual.)

OK, now that you’ve done that…the reason I picked Shinedown’s song to discuss today (thus, dissection) is because it’s a perfect song to reflect with. (It is Sunday, after all.) It works both as poetry and as music, and it is deceptively low-key, almost sneaky (in a good way!) in its message that we’re all human and we’re all fallible. We all have human moments, and we shouldn’t feel bad about it when we do.

“You’ve always been slightly awkward, kind of weird. Upside-down and not all here…what’s wrong with me and you is crystal clear,” is quite a lyric. It depicts solidarity at a time of crisis, and reminds you that it’s OK to be awkward. It’s OK to have human moments. It’s even OK not to be OK. (All of these things are not new to me. Lead singer of Shinedown Brent Smith has said exactly that during several live videos of “A Symptom of Being Human.” I recommend the one in Allen, TX, but several of them are extant and they’re all excellent.)

“We’re all just passing through. Passengers on a ship of fools,” is one of the refrains. That indicates how a lot of us feel. The world goes on, sometimes it doesn’t make any sense whatsoever, and certainly we do at times like that feel like we’re on a ship of fools.

See, there’s a lot of unnecessary drama in this world. People get mad for the most ridiculous things, and sometimes it doesn’t make any sense later when you think about it. We’re all human beings, we are going to have bad days, and yet sometimes it seems like the universe is just piling it on. How much more can we take? What else can we do to possibly alleviate the pain we have on such days?

Personally, I turn to music. That’s how I found Shinedown’s song. Brent Smith has said (not sure where I saw this) that he wrote this during the Covid pandemic lockdown. The loneliness, the pain of having to be with ourselves and loved ones without much in the way of distraction, is what apparently lead to this song. (The way I summed it up is probably not the way Mr. Smith would say it. That’s my way of explaining it.)

Over the last few months, I’ve listened to a great many different groups I’d never really paid attention to before. Shinedown is one of them, partly because of this great, introspective song. Melodically it’s quite lyrical. It’s open, but there’s more to ponder there, and the melodic line goes along with it. The refrains are easy to sing along with. The message is clear: be good to yourself, and if you have human moments, remember that we all do.

One of my favorite lyrics is, “Unpack all your baggage, hide it in the attic, where you hope it disappears.” Remember what I said above about unnecessary drama? Well, this may be the antithesis of it, in a way…you’re trying to portray a good front for people to not let on that you’re hurting, and hurting badly. You hope your pain will disappear, so you can go on and pretend you’re doing better than you really are.

But if you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you know what I’m going to say, right? Putting on fronts is stupid. It takes away from your personal energy. It takes away from your personal creativity. It tries to make you conform to what is expected of you — someone who won’t make waves, someone who won’t complain when things around you are too desperate to be borne.

I’m not saying you should partake in unnecessary drama, because that also wastes your energy. I do think you should use my late husband Michael’s Buddhist trick, and tell yourself, “OK, universe, I am going to feel exactly how I am for ten minutes.” Then, after you’ve felt it all — maybe it’s anger, maybe it’s frustration, maybe it’s despair, maybe it’s bewilderment, who knows? — you can say, “All right. I’ve felt this. I know it. Now, let’s go on about my day.” You put it aside, yes, but you don’t deny it.

Why don’t you deny it? Well, denial of what’s obvious is dumb. We shouldn’t do it. When we do, we’re invalidating ourselves before the universe even gets a chance to do it. Before the day goes bad, we’re already telling ourselves that we have to pretend to be OK in order not to bother everyone else, when the real reason we shouldn’t pretend (but use the Buddhist trick, above) is that we can’t be who we are if we’re putting on a front.

Shinedown’s song points out that we all have our good days and bad ones. It also says something I’m going to interpret this way: Maybe we should start celebrating our vulnerability rather than running from it. Maybe we should try to remember that we all hurt sometimes, and that it is better to acknowledge this than to waste your time and energy putting up a front that probably won’t change how anyone thinks of you anyway.

Look. I believe, strongly, that we all are individuals. I don’t like blind conformity. I definitely don’t like unnecessary drama, and I am completely frustrated with a whole lot of what I see in the world. But I try to spread kindness, when I can. I try to help others, even when I’m hurting, because that’s who I am. I do the best I can to remind people that they matter. Their pain matters, along with their joy, their happiness, whatever journey they’re on to find themselves and figure out their purpose…well, it all matters.

Shinedown’s song speaks to all of this, and it’s why I’ve done my best to share my thoughts about “A Symptom of Being Human” with you all.

For those of you struggling, this Sunday or any day, I want you to remember that you are much better than you know. You matter. Who you are, where you’ve come from, your journey…it is all vital, essential, and meaningful.

Don’t let your light go out of the world without a fight, in other words.

That’s what I think about on bad days, and it helps me. I hope it helps you, too.

Thoughts on Papa Roach’s “Leave a Light On (Talk Away the Dark)”

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Sorry about the brief hiatus in posts, folks. Nothing much to report, except that I’m still working on writing, editing, and that I hope to finish a musical composition of some sort soon.

Anyway, while I have been “away” (away in no real sense, but not posting), I’ve been contemplating Papa Roach’s single “Leave a Light On (Talk Away the Dark)” quite a bit. (Here’s a link to the YouTube video.) This song is a fundraiser for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFPS.org), a group close to Papa Roach’s heart.

Those of you reading along may not know who Papa Roach is. I didn’t, a few years ago, though I knew a few of their songs. (“Last Resort” is a personal favorite.) They are an American hard-rock group from California, and they once had a regular trombonist. (I approve of that! More rock groups should have interesting instrumentation.) They also have talked much about suicide, suicide prevention, depression, and anxiety throughout their career, as it’s important to them.

I’ve posted before about how this is a cause important to me (though I may not have put it that bluntly). One of my best friends killed himself before age forty. (We were on the same bowling team, years ago.) I’ve also watched as excellent singers and other musicians have struggled with addiction, anxiety, suicidal ideation, and more with my own unique perspective. (Hey, being a musician who’s not known along with being a writer who’s not known either has to have a unique perspective, or she’d just give up. I’m not into giving up. Moving on…)

When high-profile singers such as Linkin Park’s Chester Bennington and Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell die too young, what else can you think other than that life can be a major struggle? Being extravagantly talented can’t always save you.

But talking about your problems, honestly and with empathy, can.

That’s what Papa Roach’s song is all about.

Fortunately, because those musicians did so much to acknowledge their struggles while they were still alive, other musicians have continued to acknowledge their own struggles, partly because of the memories of their dearly beloved and departed friends. Papa Roach has a live version of “Leave a Light On (Talk Away the Dark)” that is dedicated to Chester Bennington, for example. Disturbed’s song “Hold on to Memories” has pictures of Bennington, Cornell, and quite a few other musicians who’ve died too young that Disturbed knew well to get across the fact that these people’s lives mattered. (I’ve discussed “Hold on to Memories” before.)

Perhaps a quote from a previous blog, which I called “When Life Does Not Go as Planned,” applies here:

Life, sometimes, is just damned hard. But we get up, we try, we do our best, we create or build or work hard on whatever it is that we feel called to do. Even when we’ve felt like we’ve failed at our deepest levels, what we’ve done matters. Even when our lives have been shattered, what we’ve done and who we’ve loved and how hard we’ve tried matters.

I believe, quite firmly, that’s what Papa Roach’s song “Leave a Light On (Talk Away the Dark)” is all about.

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this song, if you haven’t heard it before. It’s one of several songs I’ve been paying attention to lately, along with the aforementioned “Hold on to Memories” and Shinedown’s “A Symptom of Being Human.”

Remember this, though: You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to do great things every single day. You don’t have to be anyone other than yourself. You are valuable just the way you are, and if you can keep putting one foot in front of the other, that absolutely matters. Whether anyone else aside from you knows it or not…it does, does matter.


	

Grief, and Nothing More’s Song “Fade In, Fade Out”

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Folks, most of you know if you’ve followed my blog for any length of time that I am grieving my father’s passing last October at the age of eighty-six. Because of that, and because I am a musician anyway (always will be), I have been listening to songs differently.

One such song is Nothing More’s “Fade In, Fade Out.” (Link to main YouTube video is here.) It discusses, explicitly, the link between fathers and sons, so it’s not too much of a stretch to consider this dialogue from a father to a daughter as well.

“But why this song,” you ask? “And who is Nothing More?”

First, I’ll answer the second question. Nothing More is a rock group from the American Southwest. They skew more toward metal than anything, but they have various influences on their music. Their lead singer, Jonny Hawkins, started as their drummer/percussionist, but realized he needed to front the band instead. Their music has a lot of life, and speaks to many different emotions and states of being.

As to why this particular song? Because of some of the lyrics, combined with the power of the music, just speak to me in a way that I can’t quite understand, except by listening to this song, crying somewhat, and then listening to it again.

The song starts out with a grown son realizing his father has grown old. They speak, almost as if it’s their final conversation; the son listens as his father says (from lyrics):

Son, I have watched you fade in
You will watch me fade out
I have watched you fade in
You will watch me fade out
When the grip leaves my hand
I know you won’t let me down

The father continues, telling his son to follow his heart, to never settle, to hold his head up, and to never run away from change. (If you look at the lyrics, which I found here, you’ll realize I’m telling this out of order. That’s OK. This is how it speaks to me.)

These next lyrics are essential to understanding “Fade In, Fade Out,” as far as I’m concerned:

(From a bit later in song)

When the morning comes and takes me
I promise I have taught you everything that you need
In the night you’ll dream of so many things
But find the ones that bring you life and you’ll find me

That’s where you’ll find me (repeated several times until the end)

The song ends on a huge crescendo, as another child is born, this to the son.**

To my mind, though, what matters most is the line about “find the (things) that bring you life, and you’ll find me.” The reason this matters so much to me is, the passions I, myself, have, are partly because of the passions my parents had. Dad loved music; so does my mother. Both of my parents were inveterate readers (and Mom still is); so am I, though I read some different things than they did (and Mom still does). The learning I took in, regarding morality and ethics and what’s truly important in life, I also took in from family influences.

So, the things that bring me life are music, words, and important relationships with friends and family. (My friends are my family, too. Just in a slightly different way. But I digress.)

Anyway, symbolically in this song, the son ends up with a child. I have no children, unless you count the workings of my mind and heart, as Michael and I were not blessed with any. (He was worth everything, though, and still is. You’ll know this if you read my blog for any length of time.) But overall, the point still matters: the oldest among us die, to make way for the new, but there is continuity between one generation and another.

In that sense, my father’s mother (who died when he was only eleven) has lived on, through him. In that sense, my maternal grandfather, who died when I was seven, has lived on, too (among others). Even though they couldn’t teach us directly, they did teach and impart values and such to my father and mother, who passed them on to me and my sibs.

So, in the parlance of “Fade in, Fade Out,” Dad watched me as I grew older (thus, faded in). He grew old and passed away (thus, faded out). But I haven’t forgotten what he taught me, the good, the bad, and the indifferent…and I never will.

What songs have mattered to you most, especially when you’ve been grieving? (All of us grieve something, mind you. That’s the parable Gautama Buddha gave, in a perhaps apocryphal story, when he sent a woman looking for someone without grief around the world. She couldn’t find anyone.) Tell me about ’em in the comments…and hey, if there are any other Nothing More fans out there, chime in, too. (That group deserves wider fame, methinks.)

———

**There’s an acoustic version of “Fade In, Fade Out” available here that’s also well worth listening to…then again, anything Nothing More does is worth it, and I can say that about very few bands. (Disturbed, Nothing More, Linkin Park…that’s about it. I’d add a few earlier bands and singers to that, such as Phil Collins with and without Genesis, and Styx with Dennis DeYoung.)

Discussing Daughtry’s SFnal, Dystopian Single, “Artificial”

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The other day, I heard a new song from Daughtry, the band fronted by former American Idol contestant Chris Daughtry. Daughtry is known mostly for their single “It’s Not Over.” That’s a hopeful song, in its way, about the ups and downs of relationships. But the new song, “Artificial,” definitely is not hopeful. In any way.

“Artificial” is about human beings being supplanted by robots, AIs, synthetics…the world has turned poisonous, and the scenery looks like an old Mad Max movie, which sets the scene for the dystopic lyrics. For example, the second verse includes the lyrics, “No sickness, no dying, no disease/no begging for mercy on your knees. No God, no religion, no beliefs.” This may seem somewhat innocuous, especially to secular humanists, but the choruses definitely aren’t. “Welcome to your worst nightmare. Days are getting dark, you should be scared. It doesn’t have a heart. Plug into the new you…the death of who we are is right here.” (I jumped a few lines down, thus the ellipsis.)

Because Daughtry himself is muscular and fit–especially for age 44–he plays himself being uploaded into the “perfect,” human-looking robot. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, it doesn’t exactly work out.

Now, why did I say fortunately, or maybe unfortunately? Well, in this dystopic nightmare of a world, that’s apparently the only way you’re going to survive. It’s a travesty; it’s not human, as the lyrics say. The whole bit about “no begging for mercy on your knees” is about compassion, and about how the robots–or whatever they are–don’t have any. They’re just beings, without true emotions; they think, but they don’t sleep. They can’t admit to fear, even if they feel it–then again, they don’t feel much of anything–and it’s obviously not the way a human being wants to live.

There is a second level to “Artificial,” though, that’s more relevant to me as a writer and editor. There’s a real problem right now, that’s grown significantly worse in the past five years, with AI programs grabbing hold of people’s work–whether music, art, writing, you name it–and not paying anything for this. If one, single AI was the creation of some guy in his basement who had no money at all, then maybe this wholesale “borrowing” (read: using without paying) would be understandable even if still wrong. However, the AI programs are being developed by some of the biggest and wealthiest companies in the world.

They don’t have an excuse. They should be paying writers, musicians, artists, etc., for the use of their works if they’re going to be used to try to bring about a better and more comprehensive version of AI (artificial intelligence).

So, the lyric “It doesn’t have a heart” in “Artificial” could, conceivably, be talking about Google. Or Microsoft. Or whomever else that’s trying to develop an AI. If they had hearts, working souls, and even an ounce of compassion, they’d not have taken so many different people’s work without paying for it.

They certainly don’t seem to have ethics, either. Or they’d be paying writers, musicians, etc., for their work. As they should.

So, getting back to “Artificial,” Daughtry seems to be saying that in the not-so-distant future, there will be copies of what he does. Purporting to be what he and his band have actually done. (Maybe he’s referring to deep-fakes, in an elliptical way.) But it’s “ice cold, mechanical. Artificial.”

A real musician, a real band, playing in real time (even if it’s recorded and played back in any medium), has a nuance and resonance that, so far anyway, synthetic programs can’t match. The sound, itself, may seem to be easily replicated, but it’s not.

You might be asking, “Barb, what are you talking about? The YouTube video will always play the same version of the song, with no variations.”

But in live performance, there will be variations. There have to be. Every time a piece of music is played, sung, or performed in any way, it’s going to be a little different in one way or another. That’s because it has life. Purpose. A sort of drive that infuses the music, makes it far more than simply numbers on a page represented as notes (and put to lyrics, in the case of Daughtry’s “Artificial”).

In short, music has soul. The best music, made by thoughtful musicians throughout our recorded history, has touched something in us, something profound. (Even something as silly as “Purple People-Eater,” with the lyrics of “one-eyed, one-horned flying purple people eater,” will make us laugh. Laughter, itself, can be profound in its way. So sayeth I, at any rate.)

Chris Daughtry and the rest of his band, Daughtry, are excellent musicians. They put together songs that tell stories. They have multiple levels in at least some of their songs (as seen with the recent song “Artificial”), which shows a remarkably fluent and in-depth understanding of what they’re trying to do. There’s life to their songs. And just a bit of edginess (which I appreciate), along with outstanding performance values, brings about the best of results.

So, “Artificial” is a departure for Daughtry due to being dystopic. But it’s a welcome one, especially under the circumstances. I hope they write a whole lot more songs about whatever they feel like, as there’s no way an AI could ever reproduce their passion, drive, wit, and ability.

Do not accept substitutes, people. (Further the writer sayeth not.)

Tell Negative Self-Talk to Take a Hike

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Folks, I’ve recently realized something that I think has value. And that is exactly what I said in the title line: tell your negative self-talk–the stuff that hits you in the middle of the night, or maybe at other times, that says nothing you do will ever matter and that no one wants your creativity, thank you anyway–to take a hike.

See, because of my initial training as a musician, I know a lot about failure. Very rarely does a musician get through a performance playing everything the way they wanted. If you get all the notes right, you didn’t get the feeling right. If you got the feeling right, you missed notes. Maybe near the end of the concert, you thought you were finally going to have a perfect one…and then something went wrong at the last minute.

We’re human, so nothing is ever going to be perfect. This means if you want perfection, whether it’s as a writer or as a musician or as anything, you are doomed to disappointment.

Now, as for negative self-talk: it can be insidious. “Well, your sales record shows that no one wants what you write…” is one of the biggest problems I have right now, and I have to throw it out.

Besides, I know better than that. Sometimes you can do everything right, and for whatever reason, it’s not time for your books yet to make any sort of dent at all.

How do I know this? My friend Loren Jones had it happen to him. When his books were picked up by Twilight Times Books several years back, he did far better than he’d done with a previous micro-press. Same books. Same editor (yours truly). Better visibility and covers. Which all led to more sales–far, far more sales.

Yet Loren’s work hadn’t changed. He wrote good novels, then and now.

See, all we can do is our best. We can’t force the world to notice us, or our hard work. We can only continue to do the work, because it matters to us, and because it’s the only thing we want (and need) to do.

It can be difficult to tell those awful words inside you, that tell you that nothing you do matters or ever will, to take a hike. But you must do it.

Don’t let your fears keep you from realizing your dreams. And those fears include, most definitely, negative self-talk.

Written by Barb Caffrey

August 20, 2023 at 3:30 pm

Want to Read Some of My Books, Free? (Here’s How…)

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Schooled in Magic; Read an eBook Week 2019Folks, we’re almost into Read an E-Book Week, which is held from March 3 to March 9, 2019. Two of my books will be given away by Twilight Times Books if you go to their site here, one on the third (tomorrow!), one on the fifth.  So, if you have ever wanted to read something by me but have not had the money to do it, now is the chance to check out what I’m doing.

For nothing.

(Nada. Zero. Zilch. You get the point.)

At the Twilight Times Books freebie site (again, the link is here), AnElfyontheLoose_medyou can download my first novel, AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE, on March 3. (Again, that’s tomorrow, though you may be able to get it now if you’re reading late on Saturday night as the links appear to be open and active.) You will have your choice of a PDF file, a .mobi file (that’s for Kindle), or an e-pub file (that’s for just about everything that’s not Kindle). I’ve talked a good deal about AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE here at my blog, so I’ll only say this about it: It’s funny fantasy with two young kids who aren’t what they seem, and there are layers and layers to it. You may meet a few ghosts, too…

Anyway. There are other folks also giving things away that you should know about.

For example, you also can download my friend Loren K. Jones’ first book in his story about Stavin DragonBlessed, ALL THAT GLITTERS, on March 3. I edited Loren’s book, and it is a lot of fun. If you give it a chance, you’ll enjoy it, especially if you like military realism with your fantasy.

And that’s not all. Loren is giving away his book STORIES OF THE CONFEDERATED STAR SYSTEMS as well, and not just on March 3…but all week long.

And as if that weren’t enough, you also can download my friend Chris Nuttall’s first novel in his Schooled in Magic series, also titled SCHOOLED IN MAGIC, all week long. I also edited this book, and am happy to point people to it as I believe it’s one of Chris’s best books to date. (Though I am also partial to several others, this is the one that started it all.)

“But Barb,” you say. “What about your second book? The one you’re giving away on March 5…what book is that?”

That book is CHANGING FACES. It is a contemporary fantasy/CHANGING FACES coverromance between a straight male clarinetist in graduate school, his bisexual (and, secretly, gender-fluid) girlfriend, also a clarinetist and in graduate school, and two meddling, but mostly good-hearted angels. They mix in because the female half of the pair (and yes, despite being gender-fluid, she uses female pronouns to describe herself all the time) is afraid to tell her boyfriend that she is gender-fluid and wants to explore a more masculine self-image. This isn’t what he signed up for, and while he loves her desperately, he doesn’t know if he can handle her presenting as male, or possibly even going as far as having surgery later to confirm her believe in her masculine side. (She is more than a little confused, herself, about all this, at least how to describe it. She knows how it feels to be who she is, but living her truth is not easy.) So, she’s going to leave her boyfriend, even though she loves him, and he prays that he will do anything, absolutely anything, so long as he gets another chance with her.

That “anything” ends up with him in her body, now a straight man in a woman’s body (definitely transgender), and her in his body in a coma is also not what he expected. And he can’t tell anyone what happened…while she’s forced to deal with herself and her demons, as only that way can she wake again and try with her boyfriend, this time with the outward masculine identity she felt she needed (even though she’s always going to be who she is).

The angels are funny. The music is inspired. And the two main characters, Allen and Elaine, are deeply in love, but aren’t too good at communicating with each other…and yet, they both want to try. So the angels give ’em this chance…can they realize that even though their faces have changed, their love remains?

I hope you will remember to go to the TTB Freebies site often this week, and download as many books as you want. Every day, new books will be given away, to let people know we’re here, we have good books to offer, and we hope folks will give us a chance.

There’s also a general site (not run by TTB) for Read an E-Book Week on Facebook here. More publishers will be giving things away there…lots of stuff to choose from, so maybe you can mix and match?

Enjoy!

Written by Barb Caffrey

March 3, 2019 at 12:01 am

Mozart, and Persistence

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Folks, what comes to mind when you think about Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart?

Is it the fact that he was a gifted composer?

Is it that he was considered a virtuoso before the age of fifteen or so?

Is it that his father, Leopold, was also a composer and conductor?

Or is it that Mozart, like every other creative person on the face of this Earth (past or present), had to struggle at times, and not everyone liked what he was doing, or cared about it either?

Yes, Mozart was famous during his own lifetime. But he had struggles, too. (My conductor for the Racine Concert Band, Mark Eichner, pointed this out earlier this evening during his remarks.) For example, Mozart desperately wanted to break into the Paris opera scene; it was considered the “happening place,” back in the 1770s or so, and every composer who was anyone wanted to be known there.

So, he went to Paris. Taught some students, probably played some gigs here and there (as Mozart played any number of instruments, though he was known most for strings and piano), and managed to get a gig composing an overture for a ballet, “La Petite Riens.” (We played this piece tonight, hence Mr. Eichner’s remarks about Mozart. But I digress.) He thought that this would be his big break, as anyone who heard his music tended to adore it…but when he read the papers the next day after the ballet was premiered, he found out that his name wasn’t mentioned in the review. Nor was it mentioned in the concert’s program…

Yes, even W. A. Mozart could get treated badly, folks.

Anyway, the point here is that Mozart didn’t give up on his dreams after this setback. (It must’ve really smarted, too, considering.) He kept going. While it must’ve felt like a retreat, he went back to Germany, then to Italy, and elsewhere in Europe, and did what he needed to do in order to get his music played and published.

It may seem odd, that Mozart — the great Mozart — ran into problems. (This wasn’t his only problem, mind. He suffered money woes, health problems, problems with his kids and their health, difficulties with his wife’s family, and goodness knows what else.) But he was a human being, and as such, he had to deal with the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” like anyone else.

And it’s not like the man couldn’t compose. Anyone who’s heard any of his symphonies, or better yet, any of “The Magic Flute” (perhaps his best-known opera), knows that Mozart was an incredibly gifted and prolific composer…the large amount of music Mozart left behind, considering he died before the age of forty, testifies to that.

So, if you’ve run into problems with your creative pursuits, because you don’t think anyone cares, or you wonder what the point is, or you even wonder why you try so hard for so little of a result, remember what happened to Mozart.

Whatever has gone wrong this time, it is temporary. It doesn’t have to stop you if you refuse to let it do so.

So, remember this story…and don’t give up.

Written by Barb Caffrey

July 31, 2017 at 12:08 am

Concert Over…

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Folks, I’m glad to report that I played my sax solo reasonably well last night, and the preparation that went into that worked out.

I am mostly writing this follow-up blog because of a comment I received from a fellow musician on Facebook. He isn’t aware of all of the various issues that went into me playing this solo, or even wanting to play a solo at all, and that reminded me that not everyone has read my blog for years.

And if you haven’t, you’re maybe not going to know exactly what did go into the persistent effort to play well enough to ask for a solo…much less anything else.

For longtime blog readers, this is going to be old hat to you, so if you want to skip over this post, feel free…but for the rest of you, here we go.

When my husband died in 2004, I was so devastated, I wasn’t able to do much of anything for years. Because I’d already been battling carpal tunnel syndrome (or what I thought was that, at the time), my hands became so stiff and sore, they were almost unusable — at least, when it came to playing a musical instrument. (I could still type, with effort, but I also saw problems even there.)

Then, for several years, I just didn’t play. I looked at my instruments, and grew frustrated; I’d gone through so much to get my two degrees, and now, I couldn’t do anything whatsoever?

In 2011, I finally felt able to talk with my old band director, Mark Eichner. He was still at UW-Parkside, and hadn’t yet retired; he told me when the Parkside Community Band was going to start rehearsing for their winter concert, and so, I rejoined the band. I played a solo there, within the band rather than standing up in front of it (as I did yesterday), which was difficult but worthwhile.

And not long after that, in 2012, I rejoined the Racine Concert Band as a saxophonist. They needed someone to play the second part, you see…and occasionally, I could play tenor sax or clarinet as needed. I knew playing every week in the summer, where I’d battle against my asthma as well as my hand issues, was going to be a challenge, but I appreciated being able to play again.

In a way, it took a few more years for my ego as a musician to reassert itself. (Ego is not necessarily a bad thing, mind.) By this point, I wanted to play a solo. So I asked for one, preferably on clarinet.

My conductor (again Mark Eichner, who also conducts the RCB) gave me a sax solo instead.

Note that my friend Vivian is the saxophone section leader. I’ve known Vivian for years. She’s a great person, she plays well, and she makes going to rehearsal fun. I did ask her if she had any problem whatsoever with me wanting to play a solo, and she basically said, “Of course not. Don’t be silly!”

(And she was the first person to congratulate me, too, last night. Just saying.)

So, I hope that fills in a few blanks.

As for why I said things the way I did before? It’s because I am a human being, fallible and mortal, and I really do struggle sometimes depending on what types of parts are written for the sax. (Many times, Vivian doesn’t have a good part, either. Nor does any other sax player in the section. It really depends on the arranger how well the sax section is used and/or exploited.) I have an easier time playing second clarinet or even third clarinet than I do second alto sax, because the clarinet parts in a band are based off the violin part in an orchestra — meaning that usually those parts are more interesting, or at least can be, than the second alto part. (And oft-times, they’re more interesting in my opinion than the first alto part, too. But that’s probably just me.)

I’m glad I feel well enough to play, and that I was able to do a good job last night. (And that my section leader, Vivian, puts up with me. Because I’m like anyone else — sometimes I can be a major pain in the buttinsky.)

Written by Barb Caffrey

July 17, 2017 at 8:21 pm