Everyone Loves the Frontman

Since John has apparently issued me a challenge of responding to his daily music blogging, and since the breadth of my musical knowledge is far less impressive than his, I've decided to post a little explanatory response to something he might have mentioned off hand recently, but I may have just imagined, and didn't want to take the time to confirm it, either way.

So, what are the twelve-bar blues? The twelve-bar blues is a chord progression, or rather a family of slight variations on a chord progression, common in jazz, blues, and rock, that is, unsurprisingly, twelve measures (or bars) long. Behold my comma usage! You could just look this stuff up on Wikipedia and probably get more for your money, but please waste blogger's bandwidth instead.

The basic chord progression goes like this: 4 measures of I, 2 measures of IV, 2 measures of I, 1 of V, 1 of IV, and 2 of I. For those of you without any music theory, I, IV, and V refer to the major triads built on the first, fourth, and fifth steps of a major scale. There are plenty of variations on this. Usually, triads are too pedestrian for jazz, for example, so everything needs to be a seventh, especially the V (that is, it would almost certainly be replaced with a V7). The I chord would likely be made more colorful with the addition of a 6. The second measure (a I chord) would often be replaced with something like a iv7 chord. Sometimes the 1oth measure (a IV chord) is left as a continuation of the V(7) from the previous measure.

So, what's it sound like? I'm pretty sure you'd recognize it if you heard it, if you didn't follow all that chord symbol garbage. Try giving the jazz standards "In the Mood," or "Woodchopper's Ball" a listen. If you like the Beatles (that is, pretty much if you are human), their version of Chuck Berry's "Roll Over Beethoven," George's original "For You, Blue," and the aptly named "12 Bar Original" are all good examples. Dylan's "Outlaw Blues," from the album Bringing it all Back Home has a nice blues sound to it. Of course, so does just about every blues song ever, but I'm not knowledgeable enough about that to make recommendations. Edit: I'm going to go ahead and suggest Robert Johnson's "32-20 Blues" anyway. His album, Modern Times, which is basically a tribute to old style music like 50's rock and 40's balladeering (?) features the twelve-bar blues in the tracks "Thunder on the Mountain," "Rollin' and Tumblin'" and "The Levee's Gonna Break." I'd be remiss not to mention Elvis, who built his career on twelve-bar blues tracks like "Hound Dog," which is just an awesome song, even if you think you are too good for Elvis.

Want to be a rock musician? Don't know how to play any instruments? Here is how you play the twelve bar blues. First, locate the C (any will do, but I suggest middle C) on a keyboard type instrument. It's the white one just below any of the pairs of black keys (not a trio of black keys). That is your first scale step, the tonic pitch, the base note of a I chord. Learn to play that note for four measures, or goof around with some other notes (best stick to the white ones for now), but stick around that one, because rock music isn't supposed to be complex. Now, you need the IV, so what do you do, well, if the C is the 1st step, count up the white keys till you get the the 4th step, the F in this case. It should be just below a block of three black keys. That's the subdominant tone, if you are curious or prefer words to numbers. Play that one for a couple measures, then go back to the 1st step. You'll probably know intuitively and won't have to count measures. Now count back up, but this time go one more to the 5th step, the dominant tone, a G in this case. Then down one, then down to your starting place. Bam, twelve-bar blues! You're almost as good as the Big Bopper.

If playing one note is beneath you, how about this, play the fifth above each of those notes at the same time. That is, play a perfect fifth interval (still not a chord; chords require at least three notes). If that doesn't make any sense, what I mean is, when you play a C, play a G with it; when you play an F, play a C with it; and when you play a G, play a D with it. Always put the fifth above the root of the chord. It's not strictly necessary, but since this music isn't exactly filled out, it won't sound right if you start inverting your "chords." If you are totally bayd at piano (that is, you have been using one hand to do this, like a pro), you can try adding the third step of each of the chords, which you should be able to figure out by yourself, but be warned, playing straight up triads like that, without inverting or anything, makes you sound like a square.

For "advanced" playing, you can color up your chords. For example, when playing the I chord (suggest just a perfect fifth interval in the left), alternate with each beat between the fifth (a G on C) and a 6th (an A, the note above that). You will notice a very familiar bass line by doing this. Slightly harder is going G-A-Bb-A. You are now using a C6 or even a C7 chord. Keep it up, Mingus! You can basically do the same thing with the other chords and become a jazz master. Now, just learn how to play with two hands, and you are well on your way to opening for Jerry Lee Lewis.

Super

John seems to have illogically linked to my blog once again, so here's my take on Six Ways. I am blessed with having an exceptionally poor memory for events of my own life while being able to retain Chinese characters and other things I read well, so take this as you will, but you have been warned.

We used to hang out and play ska music or some approximation of it in The Shed before it was once again returned to its original purpose of holding tools and soccer balls. The lineup changed a bit, but as I recall, there was a front man, sometimes a guitar player, a bad drummer who was really a bad trumpet player, two trombone players, a bassist, and a saxophoner (this should be the word). Also Dirty Bill used to hang around and complain about how terrible we were, so I guess you could count him, or Krev, maybe?

I'm pretty sure we only ever played "Sell Out," and maybe one other RBF cover, the Mighty Mighty Bosstones' "The Rascal King," and probably some other ska song that we had managed to get sheet music or tabs or something for. We had one jam called "Underwater somethingorother." The word "somethingorother" was not part of the title, but I can't remember what the exact title was. That pretty much just amounted to one riff from the horns and a lot of some effect on the guitar. I also recall John crooning the line, "Corned beef makes me feel fine in the morning," for another original composition, but I have no other memory of that one.

I would upload a picture of us in action at one of the two (?) things we ever played for, but I don't have any. Maybe someone can send one in?

Musicale

What up? Comment, please. I am taking a hint from John and casually demanding people comment on my blog to keep contact with them, although John's blog is a lot better than mine. Lately, he's been logging some time (b)logging some of his favorite music, going in anti-alphabetical order by artist. You can check out his blog by clicking this, or by clicking on the JLink link over on the side there.

I mention his blog not just because it's amusing/inspiring/edutaining, but also because he linked back to my blog, referring people here for Tom Waits information. Sadly, my blog is lacking that, so you'd probably be better off with Wikipedia. I searched my old posts and found this one detailing Mule Variations, and this one which has a link to a Tom Waits video on it. Maybe there are others, I don't know, but I think most bloggers would make you do all the work yourself, so be thankful for that much, I guess.

To offer up a little insight before bed for those opposed to Wikipedia's maginficence or whatever, Tom Waits is a singer/songwriter who got his start in the 70's (?) and continues to record and perform. He's also an actor and is probably best characterized as a performance artist. He started his career basically as a lounge singer, playing mostly jazz and blues influenced pieces in which he detailed the beauty found in the gutter. He's gradually moved away from the piano and from his often sentimental music towards more experimental music and spoken word pieces, often with a lot of odd percussion. He's basically been playing the part of American eccentric for the last few decades, popping up every now and again with some play/album/whatever project, telling chuckle-worthy stories of a dubious nature in his completely destroyed voice. John mentions his collaboration with Primus on "Tommy the Cat," which is definitely worth a listen. If that link worked, which it doesn't seem to be doing for some reason, then you should know Tom is the one doing all the gruff talking parts, Les is the one doing the talk singing in a way I haven't figured out how to describe. For the record, I have no idea how much input Tom had into the writing of the song, if any. You should check out John's blog for more details when he gets to P. Right now he is on T, so all I am asking is give P-S a chance.

Iceland

Something about little island nations makes them crazy, I think. If it weren't for the completely destroyed economy, I think I'd like to move to Iceland when I'm done with this Japan thing. Be sure to click on that link. It's a Vanity Fair article that is simply fascinating.

Worst Cover of Anything, Ever

This is an affront to all that is good and holy. Kindly die and be forgotten forever, MCR.

Fish Master

I ate this fish tonight. It's called karee, which I think is like flounder or something. It looked like a frying fish, so I did that with it, and that worked out pretty well. The salad is made of edible chrysanthemum and some other vegetable that I'm not going to bother looking up. It seems like fried fish usually comes with lemon slices, so I bought a lemon and, weirdly enough, sliced it.

Cooking is very strange when you aren't using a recipe. It is like art or something because you have to picture what you want beforehand and figure out how to get there. Obviously, sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. This time it turned out pretty well, despite the fish seemingly being designed not to be cut up, being a flatfish with all the organs pushed to one side.

Which reminds me, intelligent design is ridiculous. There are only two Americans within an hour of where I live, I'm pretty sure, and neither of them believe in evolution. When somebody mentions that, I instantly lose respect for them. You pretty much have to be an idiot not to think evolution by natural selection is the right theory. It seriously makes me very mad to think that my country is being represented here by people who are not only ignorant but willfully ignorant, and all too happy to spread their disdain for science and reason anywhere they can get a foothold. Seriously, stupids, leave Japan alone.

Hard Rain

I've been trying to fix the whole in my musical knowledge where jazz should be lately by listening to John Coltrane and Charles Mingus, just for a start. While they are both really wonderful even after only a cursory listen, with Mingus standing out as being particularly inventive and fun, I find myself return to the places I'm familiar with, like Tom Waits's proverbial rain dogs. In this case, I mean returning to my idol, Bobby Dylan.

He's like that, though, always having something to return to, no matter how you feel. I'm listening to Hard Rain tonight, an album probably not many of you are familiar with out there. It's a live album recorded in 1976, part of the Rolling Thunder Revue, post Desire. I think I've mentioned Desire on here before. It's really the last in his string of great albums starting with The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. Desire is preceded by Blood on the Tracks (technically by The Basement Tapes, but that was recorded earlier), one of his most famous albums. Blood is simply beautiful in its sadness, generally seen as Dylan's reaction to his separation, mostly soft songs of confusion and hurt and definitely worth a listen. Desire is part travelogue, part angry calls for justice on behalf of American anti-heros, and part desperate last cries at a failed relationship. It is probably his most intense studio album and wonderful, even if it requires a few listens to get into past the immortal "Hurricane."

Enough background, then. Hard Rain is from the tour presumably in support of that album, but only features one track ("Oh, Sister") from it. He's backed by similar instruments, anyway. There's screeching violin and drums that somehow come off as a mix between haphazard pounding and pinpoint accuracy. Dylan's own performance is what I love, though. It's really as if he can't stand what he was thinking when he wrote/recorded the originals. "Idiot Wind," the closing track, is a little disappointing, but "Lay, Lady, Lay," "Shelter from the Storm," and "I Threw it all Away" all come off almost like him mocking his own efforts out of self-loathing and doing a great job the whole time. He turns some of his most touching, softest songs into multi-layered battles with himself, winning by yelling over top of his band, who is trying their hardest just to keep the songs some sense of orderly, it seems to me.

Critics don't like this album, and I see why; the band lacks the energy to really capture the songs in one way or another. The critics are really right in complaining about it, but sometimes it is just right. It's Dylan right as he is finally collapsing, before he is mumbling from the ruins of his life on Street Legal, before his conversion to fire-breathing evangelism. Dig it tonight.