But not like that, sicko. I never noticed it before I was here, but it's tough when one of your three favorite foods is turned into a cultural sex toy. "Do you have pie?" when I rarely eat out, then even more rarely order dessert, in fact, I don't think this has ever happened "But not beef and Guinness pie, American pie, with fruit" which sounds like you're playing a joke, and no, tarts are not okay.
Anyway, the line between Richland and Dublin cooking is really very thin and full of Crisco, and by that I mean it consists of pie. I never even bothered trying to make my mom's pies (except once, when I really ruined the crust and she had to save it thereby also saving Christmas) even though I watched her make it several times a year (Dad's birthday, my birthday, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, potlucks) and am pretty good at cutting in the shortening, at least when I make scones, and can handle rolling dough fairly well, when I make pizza, but I still worked away in total fear, following the recipe (strawberry rhubarb) to the letter, which is something I haven't done to a recipe in years and years. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and although I managed to skip the pie-feasts of Dad's birthday, Thanksgiving, potlucks, and most recently the Fourth of July, I could not let my own birthday slip through the cracks. Needless to say, I botched the crust by not dusting the cutting board with flour, so I rolled that one back up and made it into a makeshift top, thank God it was a two-crust pie, while I went in for round two on the new bottom crust, taking six times as long as my mother, and forgoing a rolling pin for an empty bottle of Jameson whiskey, which put all these little backwards signatures of "John J. Jameson" on the crust, a sign of quality. So, I ended up patching the parts that needed patching, drawing an ocean scene with a fork on the top crust, and it still somehow managed to come out all right, even though I used Crisp n' Dry, which sounds like a deodorant, because I couldn't find Crisco.
And, really, from the first bite, it was worth it. The crust really did pay off, although it kind of fell apart since I didn't have a pie-scoop, but then it did that landslide thing and melted the ice cream (also the first time I've had ice cream at home here), and there was some left over, even. Which is to say, it was definitely a hit of nostalgia having the pie last night, but reheating the pie this morning with coffee? a full-on overdose.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Drones (We Are) - Valediction
More drones, I know. I even gave it (the mp3) an album name, sort of a pun. My intonation isn't perfect on this recording, but I feel that I manage to hit enough 7ths, major 3rds, and that E-natural well enough to make it at least work. For those of you asking "what does Just Intonation sound like?" this is what it sounds like, but usually better assuming someone is playing it who can actually play the violin.
Valediction: For any number of strings, Indeterminate duration.
Tune violins a whole step lower; tune strings IV, III, and II of cello and viola a whole step lower (C-F-C-G-D). Tune to perfect fifths.
There are about a dozen patterns here, as well as a drone on the F. All the patterns are overtones of that F from a 9-note scale (Ionian plus Lydian plus Mixolydian, or the standard Western I-IV-V). Each player should move about these patterns at will, although not jumping more than a few patterns at a time, to preserve some continuity. Players may repeat the patterns as many times as needed, and skip patterns if they wish; however, it is highly advised that someone always be playing a held F (drone), and, if there are enough players, someone should be playing a held C as well, for tuning purposes. Optionally, the players may be spread around the performance space, behind, above, or underneath the audience. They may also be amplified, and spatialized, although not with artificial reverb or effects. Finally, it may go on as long as it needs to; there is no limit (either maximum or minimum) to the duration.
If anyone wants to perform this, let me know and I'll write up the score. Mostly, it's either in my head or on scraps of paper in a half-dozen notebooks scattered around my room.
Please suffer my four-violin recording.
http://www.willamette.edu/~acsmith/valediction.mp3
Valediction: For any number of strings, Indeterminate duration.
Tune violins a whole step lower; tune strings IV, III, and II of cello and viola a whole step lower (C-F-C-G-D). Tune to perfect fifths.
There are about a dozen patterns here, as well as a drone on the F. All the patterns are overtones of that F from a 9-note scale (Ionian plus Lydian plus Mixolydian, or the standard Western I-IV-V). Each player should move about these patterns at will, although not jumping more than a few patterns at a time, to preserve some continuity. Players may repeat the patterns as many times as needed, and skip patterns if they wish; however, it is highly advised that someone always be playing a held F (drone), and, if there are enough players, someone should be playing a held C as well, for tuning purposes. Optionally, the players may be spread around the performance space, behind, above, or underneath the audience. They may also be amplified, and spatialized, although not with artificial reverb or effects. Finally, it may go on as long as it needs to; there is no limit (either maximum or minimum) to the duration.
If anyone wants to perform this, let me know and I'll write up the score. Mostly, it's either in my head or on scraps of paper in a half-dozen notebooks scattered around my room.
Please suffer my four-violin recording.
http://www.willamette.edu/~acsmith/valediction.mp3
Monday, July 28, 2008
Genre
When pirating music, sometimes it appears in iTunes intact with artist names, sometimes album information, and if you're very lucky it comes with a genre. Rebuilding my music collection, since I somehow can't access the 60 GB of (mostly) my CD collection on my dying external hard drive, my favorite genre was "Unclassifiable," for a Larry Polansky (electronic, microtonal, acoustic, heavily distorted guitars, sometimes a choir, teaches at Dartmouth) album "C H A N G E," but that has now been eclipsed by a Keyboard Study from the album par le GERM split LP by minimalist founder Terry Riley, Genre: Unknowable. For some reference, he is also listed under folk, rock & roll, "instrumental," jazz, "misc," avant garde, and (where do we draw the line?) classical. To be fair, he probably belongs in electronic, world, and new age as well.
My dream is to perform his signature piece "In C" at Wulapalooza, or anywhere else with a semi-captive audience. It's a series of 40-something loops for any number of musicians with any instruments, where you move forward at will, with no conductor. It is, as I believe, a deconstruction of the Western tradition. There's really no acceptable YouTube video for this, but I have a recording from the Node Ensemble concert somewhere, on another computer.
My dream is to perform his signature piece "In C" at Wulapalooza, or anywhere else with a semi-captive audience. It's a series of 40-something loops for any number of musicians with any instruments, where you move forward at will, with no conductor. It is, as I believe, a deconstruction of the Western tradition. There's really no acceptable YouTube video for this, but I have a recording from the Node Ensemble concert somewhere, on another computer.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Oh no.
http://salem.craigslist.org/etc/766600084.html
I am addicted to craigslist. Don't even get me started on "missed connections."
I am addicted to craigslist. Don't even get me started on "missed connections."
Pancaking
As part of an ongoing quest to use all my remaining baking ingredients, I made pancakes for breakfast. Except, there's a problem in halving the recipe when the four-serving version calls for one egg. Normally, I might just leave the egg the same and reduce the others, making extra-eggy pancakes--but, no, that would be capitulating. Now it's a challenge, and you, about.com, are about to lose.
I remember in sixth grade someone (Alan, in case anyone is interested) invented a word, "pancaking," for my current state. It's the act of eating pancakes drawn as a larger allegory: beginning something whole-hearted and enthusiastic, a delicious first bite, soon settling into the rhythm of things, then even sooner overwhelmed by the mass and monstrosity of what's on the plate in front of you, but determined to go on. Obviously, in a literal sense, this applies quite well to my present state, yet I believe it ranks with the Odyssey and the Gospel of John as a legitimate classical myth-structure; indeed, it applies to watching a Meg Ryan movie (funny and heartwarming; expected that joke, sure; isn't this over? where's Tom Hanks?) to Samuel Beckett (any elaboration needed? Good.)
Pancaking is never really done with. The current plate is finished, yet there is still almost a whole bag of white flour left, not to mention all the multi-grain flour, yeast, baking powder, baking soda, etc. But now, at least, I'm satisfied with a job well done, and also there's syrup all over my computer.
And now for a picture that I'll probably end up regretting when I apply for a job where they're likely to Google my name (which job is that?):
I remember in sixth grade someone (Alan, in case anyone is interested) invented a word, "pancaking," for my current state. It's the act of eating pancakes drawn as a larger allegory: beginning something whole-hearted and enthusiastic, a delicious first bite, soon settling into the rhythm of things, then even sooner overwhelmed by the mass and monstrosity of what's on the plate in front of you, but determined to go on. Obviously, in a literal sense, this applies quite well to my present state, yet I believe it ranks with the Odyssey and the Gospel of John as a legitimate classical myth-structure; indeed, it applies to watching a Meg Ryan movie (funny and heartwarming; expected that joke, sure; isn't this over? where's Tom Hanks?) to Samuel Beckett (any elaboration needed? Good.)
Pancaking is never really done with. The current plate is finished, yet there is still almost a whole bag of white flour left, not to mention all the multi-grain flour, yeast, baking powder, baking soda, etc. But now, at least, I'm satisfied with a job well done, and also there's syrup all over my computer.
And now for a picture that I'll probably end up regretting when I apply for a job where they're likely to Google my name (which job is that?):
Friday, July 25, 2008
1-3-7-21-49-147
Just hit play.
Yes, friends, that is my new favorite guitar tuning. It is (if you're into this) an E (maybe), a third harmonic above that, a seventh harmonic of the E, a seventh harmonic of the third harmonic, a seventh harmonic of the seventh harmonic, a third harmonic of the seventh harmonic of the seventh harmonic (bringing us to 3x7x7 = 147).
In short, it's the greatest tuning ever created. I tried to pluck a tune normal guitar style, but it just wasn't doing the tuning justice, so I cradled the guitar between my legs like a cello, put my recorder in front of myself, picked up my violin bow, and started making noise. What you hear (as we speak, if you followed instructions) is an excerpt, after I got used to the mechanics of it, but before I started to run out of ideas. You'll notice it's mostly 5 minutes of drones; they aren't all drones, but when you vibrate the higher strings at 21 and 49 and 147 times the speed of the lower strings, their vibrations are so perfectly in tune with the natural vibrations of the lower strings that the whole thing starts to reverberate. All this really needs is to be even louder, and sustained for upwards of an hour.
Anyway, the last one (taeper, or repeat backwards) was also on guitar, but with a different tuning (1-4/3-7/4-9/4-11/4-4/1), and just the same thirteen (yes, prime numbers) notes, looped and played backward. There's a bandpass on the whole thing, so nothing changes except for the reinforced frequencies--the shift in melody that you hear is actually just a shift in filtration, like holding differently colored gels in front of a white light.
Yes, friends, that is my new favorite guitar tuning. It is (if you're into this) an E (maybe), a third harmonic above that, a seventh harmonic of the E, a seventh harmonic of the third harmonic, a seventh harmonic of the seventh harmonic, a third harmonic of the seventh harmonic of the seventh harmonic (bringing us to 3x7x7 = 147).
In short, it's the greatest tuning ever created. I tried to pluck a tune normal guitar style, but it just wasn't doing the tuning justice, so I cradled the guitar between my legs like a cello, put my recorder in front of myself, picked up my violin bow, and started making noise. What you hear (as we speak, if you followed instructions) is an excerpt, after I got used to the mechanics of it, but before I started to run out of ideas. You'll notice it's mostly 5 minutes of drones; they aren't all drones, but when you vibrate the higher strings at 21 and 49 and 147 times the speed of the lower strings, their vibrations are so perfectly in tune with the natural vibrations of the lower strings that the whole thing starts to reverberate. All this really needs is to be even louder, and sustained for upwards of an hour.
Anyway, the last one (taeper, or repeat backwards) was also on guitar, but with a different tuning (1-4/3-7/4-9/4-11/4-4/1), and just the same thirteen (yes, prime numbers) notes, looped and played backward. There's a bandpass on the whole thing, so nothing changes except for the reinforced frequencies--the shift in melody that you hear is actually just a shift in filtration, like holding differently colored gels in front of a white light.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Dodging cars, succeeding (so far)
Trying to make the most of this page before next week, when I have to retire it (or at least change the name) and realizing that I haven't said anything with real words for weeks. I've got this plan for next week, the day after my birthday, where I'll move out August 1 (really just take most of my stuff to a friend's house so as to not pay rent) and bicycle to Derry. If I stop halfway, in Armagh, it will split the trip into two days, about 82 miles Friday and 70 miles Saturday.
The problem I ran into, though, on my test run today was getting out of Dublin. It's nearly impossible to make it out of here without hitting those 100 km/h and over roads. It's not so bad staying on back roads, even though there's really no shoulder and my knuckles are permanently pale, but at least the cars are shooting by at 50-60 km/h instead of 100 (reference: like riding on the Richland bypass highway, which is also scary, but at least then I know where I'm going). I'm thinking that if I can make it far enough out of Dublin and not get lost one of these days, then I can do it again next Friday. So, tomorrow it looks like it'll be a 60 mile round trip to Drogheda, which is almost the entire way to Armagh, up in the (capital-N?) north.
The only downside is that (did I say this already?) most of the directions from the last two-hour test ride are lost, my only memories of those last two hours being trying not to die. Anyway, I'll be home (alive, we hope) on August 7, but then off to Salem/Portland probably for a day or two, so we'll figure something out.
The problem I ran into, though, on my test run today was getting out of Dublin. It's nearly impossible to make it out of here without hitting those 100 km/h and over roads. It's not so bad staying on back roads, even though there's really no shoulder and my knuckles are permanently pale, but at least the cars are shooting by at 50-60 km/h instead of 100 (reference: like riding on the Richland bypass highway, which is also scary, but at least then I know where I'm going). I'm thinking that if I can make it far enough out of Dublin and not get lost one of these days, then I can do it again next Friday. So, tomorrow it looks like it'll be a 60 mile round trip to Drogheda, which is almost the entire way to Armagh, up in the (capital-N?) north.
The only downside is that (did I say this already?) most of the directions from the last two-hour test ride are lost, my only memories of those last two hours being trying not to die. Anyway, I'll be home (alive, we hope) on August 7, but then off to Salem/Portland probably for a day or two, so we'll figure something out.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
Budapest: In three parts
Budapest
In Three Parts
Copyright July 15, 2008
"It just gets destroyed, then rebuilt, destroyed, then rebuilt."
-Claire McQuerry
Pt. I: The Ottomans
All begin on pattern A, beginning at different times, in canon. Move to pattern B at will, again in canon, but with the tempos shifted so that each repeat takes the same duration. There is a simple formula for this, tX being the tempo of either pattern: tA/7 = tB/5. Play until all reach B and fade out individually.
Pt. II: The Hapsburgs
Split into two groups: one group plays notes from A, while the other plays notes from B. Repeat until it crumbles.
Pt. III: The Soviets
Pick any note from A. Change after 7 seconds. Repeat 7 times.
Pick any note from B. Change after 5 seconds. Repeat 5 times.
In Three Parts
Copyright July 15, 2008
"It just gets destroyed, then rebuilt, destroyed, then rebuilt."
-Claire McQuerry
Pt. I: The Ottomans
All begin on pattern A, beginning at different times, in canon. Move to pattern B at will, again in canon, but with the tempos shifted so that each repeat takes the same duration. There is a simple formula for this, tX being the tempo of either pattern: tA/7 = tB/5. Play until all reach B and fade out individually.
Pt. II: The Hapsburgs
Split into two groups: one group plays notes from A, while the other plays notes from B. Repeat until it crumbles.
Pt. III: The Soviets
Pick any note from A. Change after 7 seconds. Repeat 7 times.
Pick any note from B. Change after 5 seconds. Repeat 5 times.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Encroach
You know when you can hear the rain approaching? I mean, when it's really not raining very hard but the trees a few houses down are really just eating it up, making all kinds of noise, clearly the only ones in this town who want more rain, and it crescendos coming closer and closer until it's really a torrent next door and the light sprinkle in your garden probably won't be very light for very long. That's a good time to decide to stay in for the day.
Leaving for Munich (then Salzburt, Halstatt, Vienna, Budapest) tomorrow. Should be fun.
Leaving for Munich (then Salzburt, Halstatt, Vienna, Budapest) tomorrow. Should be fun.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
lbs.
I'm somewhere between Kings Cross and York, and I just finished my vegetable pasty, and as Garrett Sholdice said, it doesn't take long out of London before that buzzing in your head quiets down. I haven't yet gotten used to the currency--so much prettier than the ecumenical euro--and probably won't get a chance to before I fly back to Dublin tomorrow.
Yesterday was boiling in London, easily 80 degrees. I could not think, stumbling around partly lost and partly just bored for the sake of nothing to do all day, and too much heat to do it in. It was vindicated, though, by the excellent concert by the Fidelio Trio, with old works by Donnacha Dennehy, Linda Buckley, and Kevin Volans, and new works by Benedict Schlepper-Connolly, and (sort of) Gerald Barry.
The reason I am even here in the first place was today's interview with Garrett and Ben, and London was the only place I could meet them both together. They've started this organization, Ergodos, putting on contemporary music concerts and commissioning new material as often as possible.
One thing (more than one, really) Ben said interested me, in terms of his critique of the European mindset: Ireland is now officially two weeks into a recession, and they are a brand-new organization applying for arts funding. In order to survive through public budget cuts, they realize, you have to put effort into opening revenue streams aside from the arts council. Their goal is more than just having the same fifteen people in the new music crowd show up for every gig; it's to actually get new audiences in the door. The concert that they held in conjunction with a school in New York and the Royal Irish Academy of Music exemplified this: the new music crowd was largely absent, but there were whole families there listening to this music written decades ago that is still off-the-charts abstract even now.
(When is music not abstract?)
I must resolve to take the train more often. Train stations are significantly more quaint that airports, the nature is pretty, and this train even has spotty WiFi. Luckily, on my trip next week (next week!) From Munich to Salzburg to Halstatt to Wien to Budapest I'll be taking trains the whole way. It's time to decompress, to sit in four-seat rows where airplane cabins would almost certainly have six seats. Plus they have outlets to plug in your computer.
And, finally, the best thing about England? Cask ale.
Yesterday was boiling in London, easily 80 degrees. I could not think, stumbling around partly lost and partly just bored for the sake of nothing to do all day, and too much heat to do it in. It was vindicated, though, by the excellent concert by the Fidelio Trio, with old works by Donnacha Dennehy, Linda Buckley, and Kevin Volans, and new works by Benedict Schlepper-Connolly, and (sort of) Gerald Barry.
The reason I am even here in the first place was today's interview with Garrett and Ben, and London was the only place I could meet them both together. They've started this organization, Ergodos, putting on contemporary music concerts and commissioning new material as often as possible.
One thing (more than one, really) Ben said interested me, in terms of his critique of the European mindset: Ireland is now officially two weeks into a recession, and they are a brand-new organization applying for arts funding. In order to survive through public budget cuts, they realize, you have to put effort into opening revenue streams aside from the arts council. Their goal is more than just having the same fifteen people in the new music crowd show up for every gig; it's to actually get new audiences in the door. The concert that they held in conjunction with a school in New York and the Royal Irish Academy of Music exemplified this: the new music crowd was largely absent, but there were whole families there listening to this music written decades ago that is still off-the-charts abstract even now.
(When is music not abstract?)
I must resolve to take the train more often. Train stations are significantly more quaint that airports, the nature is pretty, and this train even has spotty WiFi. Luckily, on my trip next week (next week!) From Munich to Salzburg to Halstatt to Wien to Budapest I'll be taking trains the whole way. It's time to decompress, to sit in four-seat rows where airplane cabins would almost certainly have six seats. Plus they have outlets to plug in your computer.
And, finally, the best thing about England? Cask ale.
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