Consider the nail

Consider the nail.

The purpose of a nail, what it does, is to hold together two pieces of wood. The hammer does not perform that function, nor does the hand wielding the hammer. The fact that nails can conceivably be used in other ways does not alter their primary function.

The purpose of a gun – any kind of gun – is just as singular: what it does is propel a projectile into a body, human or otherwise, in order to inflict injury or death. The fact that it can also be used to shoot at some other object (usually a practice target, the purpose of which itself is to improve accuracy in performing the primary purpose) is irrelevant and does nothing to alter the primary function.

It is just as illogical to say “guns don’t kill people” as it is to say “nails don’t hold two pieces of wood together”.

But the intention behind the action is all that matters, right? We can’t blame the existence of guns. Well, let’s talk about intent.

The nail and the gun are both inanimate objects. Will a nail join together two pieces of wood without the intervening force of the hammer and the intent behind the hand holding it? Of course not, just as a gun is unlikely in the extreme to perform its function without the movement of its own hammer and the intent behind the finger on the trigger. Both require intention, aim, and purpose. Wait, I’m making the argument for you, you say? It’s all about intent!

Well, yes. But not in the way you’re thinking.

Anyone with a mind to destruction can inflict injury or even death on another with an almost infinite number of intervening “tools”. Even our own bodies and most inanimate objects found in nature can be used to injure, maim or kill a living being. Weapons are different. They are designed and manufactured to inflict harm. That’s what weapons do, that’s what they are. The manufacturers of Weaponry, being in the business of making products to be sold for a profit, want to sell more than their competitors. They make their product more powerful, more efficient, and more lethal in order to do so. That is their intent. And gun manufacturers have completely taken over the National Rifle Association (originally little more than an enthusiast’s club, and not the national lobbying powerhouse we’ve known since the 1970s) and through lobbying efforts have successfully convinced many Americans that they need weapons that are more powerful, efficient, and lethal simply to protect themselves. And they’ve successfully convinced many politicians that any attempt to limit the production and sale of these weapons is an attempt at limiting the rights of the citizenry. It’s brainwashing – the control of public opinion and policy – and it is the intent of the gun lobby; it’s what they do.

The problem is not that guns exist, or even that so many people seem obsessed with them. Hunting animals is a legitimate activity, and one which fills a long-standing and legitimate function in human society. One may not approve of hunting for sport, or may choose to oppose hunting on general moral grounds, but it’s easy to simply opt out, to not participate in that activity. No harm done. The problem is that guns that aren’t designed for hunting game, but that are instead designed specifically to kill large numbers of human beings as quickly as possible, are also available. Now, presumably these other humans are also similarly armed, and out to kill us as well. That’s why our armed forces and law enforcement organization legitimately carry such weapons.

Consider the gun: fires a projectile into a body in order to injure or kill.

Consider the gun manufacturers: will stop at nothing to continue to sell its products.

Consider the gun lobby: will attempt to control our legislators by any means necessary.

Now consider the nail again. The nail does what it does, because that is its purpose. As do the gun, its manufacturers, and its apologists.

Consider all of that, and the situation, the climate, that we find ourselves in in America today. Consider the real reasons behind what’s going on. And consider yourself, your friends, and your family.

What will we do?

Another reason to strive for excellence, or, How does ECM do that?

Being the detail-oriented person that I am, I have always taken the time to read the liner notes to recordings. Going back to the days when LPs were the industry standard, my SOP after a trip to the record store would be to park myself in front of my stereo, slice through the shrink-wrap with a fingernail (unlike some who just opened the edge allowing the vinyl to escape, I always completely removed the wrapping), and look at the inner sleeve. Sometimes it would be plain white, sometimes there would be advertisements of other offerings from the record company, but sometimes – and this was always a bonus - there would be mysteries revealed. Most common was to have lyrics and composer information, but there could also be photos, other artistic images, band personnel (I would feel somehow cheated if the band members weren’t listed somewhere on the cover or the inner sleeve), tour dates, personal notes from the artists, weird stories, band lore, thank-yous, or assorted other arcana.

Somewhere in there, usually, was information about the recording itself. The producer was most often listed first (before I learned better I used to think this was because the producer was always the Most Important Person behind the scenes), followed by the engineer, and sometimes even the tape operator, the tech personnel for the various instruments or band members, or the roadies who set up the gear for performances. If the recording studio itself was listed, it often had a generic name associated with the label (Atlantic, ABC, CBS, A & M) or some sort of more interesting appellation evoking a sense of quality or uniqueness (Mountain, Power Station, Mad Hatter, Electric Lady, Caribou, Air, Abbey Road, Talent, Avatar, Trident, and Rainbow are a few that come to mind, along with location-based recording venues such as Motown, Stax, and Rudy Van Gelder’s New Jersey home studio) that would lead the listener to wonder if the quality of the studio had anything to do with whatever was special about the sound of a particular album.

But it wasn’t until the early 80’s, when I began to study music seriously, that I really identified any one studio or record label with a particular sound. The album was “Standards, Vol. I” by the newly-formed Keith Jarrett Trio (recorded at Power Station Studio in NYC, by Jan-Erik Kongshaug, and released on the ECM label). I wouldn’t have identified it as such then, but going back now, there’s a transparency to the recording that is truly stunning and unique. Every note from the piano and bass can not only be heard, but identified. Each drum is discrete, and each cymbal clearly distinct from the others. Yet, with all this definition, there is still a wholeness to the sound which is compelling. There is reverb, but not at the expense of clarity; the sound of a performance in a cathedral, but with precision. This was my first exposure to the piano trio genre, and I was spoiled. As I expanded my palette to include Bill Evans, Chick Corea, Herbie Hancock, Oscar Peterson, Thelonius Monk, McCoy Tyner, Red Garland, Hank Jones and others, I was rewarded with musical excellence and even transcendence, but there was, more often than not, something missing from the quality of the recordings. As a bassist, I noticed the lack of clarity most when I tried to transcribe bass lines; not only were the notes themselves lacking clarity, but the piano and drums seemed to cover the sound of the bass like a blanket, no matter how sparingly they were played. Lifting Gary Peacock’s lines from the Jarrett recordings, on the other hand, was like child’s play, as each note fairly leapt out from the soundscape, waiting to be plucked like so much ripe fruit.

[This recording style has lent itself quite successfully to other artists and instrumentations, including Pat Metheny, Gary Burton, Jan Garbarek, Dave Holland, John Abercrombie, Peter Erskine, and Kenny Wheeler. Also represented in the catalog are contemporary classical recordings (the ECM New Series) and more experimental crossover music such as the excellent Nik Bärtsch’s Ronin. All are examples of the same attention to detail and clarity evinced by the Jarrett Trio recordings.]

Fast forward to the present day, and to my current focus as a piano technician. I have been going back to my record collection (now including CDs; I still read the liner notes while listening for the first time) and listening to the piano in a different way, now trying to focus on the sound of the instrument in order to isolate issues of tone and tuning, hoping to glean insight that will help me to become a better technician. The first thing that occurred to me was to learn exactly how the piano was recorded, thinking that made the largest difference. What microphone(s) were used? Where are they placed? What type of post-production trickery is used to get the best possible sound? There turned out to be as many answers to these questions as there were recordings, with every engineer and pianist having their opinion on the “right” way to record a piano. As I continued to listen, I kept coming back to the ECM recordings from Talent Studio and Rainbow in Oslo, and Power Station in New York, which seem to stand head and shoulders above the rest. They seemed to have found a way to make the piano sound better than other pianos; ein Überklavier. The reverb used is significant, but there was something more than that. A spectacular instrument? More than likely, but how then to explain the sound being consistent over a period of years, and across oceans to different recording studios? I would think about this, then let it go for a time, always shrugging and saying “I don’t know what they do, but I sure like it”.

I recently came across an interview with Jan-Erik Kongshaug, aforementioned recording engineer for ECM and credited as such on many of the label’s recordings that I hold in highest regard. The entire interview, conducted by John Kelman for the website All About Jazz, is very informative and can be found here. The part that caught my eye, though, was this:

One of the aspects to recording that has made Kongshaug's name has been his attention to piano sound, though he has a surprising opinion as to why he achieves such a rich sound, while so many others do not. "I always get this question," Kongshaug says, 'what kinds of microphones do you use, where do you put them?' I don't think it's that important at all; you have to have a good condenser mike—I usually use a Schoeps or a Neumann—but that's not important. You have to have a good tuner; you have to keep the piano in shape. Every session it's tuned. I have one very good tuner, and one backup; if not, it's not the same instrument. [emphasis in original]

Keep in mind: this is the Engineer talking, the person who is almost universally acknowledged as The Guy Responsible For How The Recording Sounds. And he is stating in no uncertain terms that the piano technician/tuner has more to do with how the piano sounds on the recording than does he. Going back to my liner-note-perusal habit, it bears mention that rarely, if ever, is the piano technician credited, even while those responsible for guitar, drums, or even electronic keyboards (!) are given a shout-out.

Musical myopia can be a terrible thing. All this time I had been assuming there must be something of the magnitude of a top-level-national-security-type protocol which was known to only the elite at ECM and other recording studios which enabled them to take the sound of the piano in the studio and improve on it electronically, when what’s actually going on is that the piano is well taken-care-of and masterfully tuned before each recording session. This is both inspiring and frightening. It means: not only do I as a technician have the ability (theoretically) to make a piano sound like that, but also the obligation, if I’m to be truly honest with myself, to shoot for that level as often as possible.

Kongshaug goes on to say that the amount of attention paid to the piano depends on the type of music, the touch of the pianist, and the order in which the music will be recorded. He also says that when the musician requests that the piano be tuned to A-440 (Hz, or cycles per second, 442 being the default pitch level at Rainbow) it is tuned twice: once the day before the session and again the day of. One must assume that any issues of voicing, action regulation, or touchweight/friction which the artist points out would be taken care of with the same attention to detail, for as technicians are aware, a truly exceptional-sounding instrument is not just well in tune, but also superbly voiced and regulated.

We don’t all get to work for recording studios or in situations where the piano will be recorded out in the field, but those of us who do need to keep all of this in mind as we work. And there can be nothing lost by putting oneself in the mindset that the piano may be used in a recording, and should be made to sound its absolute best – just in case. For my part, I have even more ammunition for my continued enjoyment of the recordings from the ECM library, as I have a better idea now than before of why those instruments sound so incredibly good, and it relates directly to what I do. Expressed syllogistically: It’s the Technician. I’m a Technician. Therefore, I could potentially do that.

I'm glad there is - VII

Each year in July I find myself spending far too much time in front of the television, marveling at the athleticism, skill, and sheer force of will on display at this event. I have to admit I'm not so much of a fan as to seek out coverage of the other cycling events of the season, but Le Tour grabs me every time. Just over 2263 miles in 23 days; sounds impressive, right? But wait: factor out the two rest days, bringing the average miles per day to just under 108. Okay, then, factor out the two time-trial days (not that these are negligible by any means, as they are simply all-out, every-man-for-himself sprints against the clock) of 5.5 and 32.3 miles (that's right, a 32-mile SPRINT) which are themselves as challenging as any other stage. This brings the average mileage on the other 19 days to 117. But wait: Only 9 of these 19 days are on what the organizers call "flat" roads. There are also four stages classified as “medium” mountains, and six classified as “high” mountains. And these are real mountains, friends; we’re talking about the Alps and the Pyrenees here. To make it a bit more difficult, three of the mountain stages end at the summit.

One of these is this years’ Stage 17, the 20th day of the tour, from Pau to the Col du Tourmalet. The ride will cover 108 miles, with four climbs, in this order: one of Category 4, 2 of Category 1, with the final climb to the finish designated as Hors Categorie (above category)*. Summing up, the riders will travel over 100 miles, climbing over three mountain passes and ending at the summit of a fourth.

The winner of the stage will finish in a little over 5 hours.

Think about that. That means averaging over 20 mph, for five hours, in the mountains. Next time you have occasion to be driving in a car at that speed, take a moment to look out the window at the passing scenery, and imagine gaining and maintaining that velocity without the assistance of 4, 6, or 8 cylinders.

And that’s just one day. Other days will include similar topography, varying degrees of road surface integrity (this year two stages will include stretches over cobblestones - not nicely laid brick roads as we still see from time to time in America, but actual stones, with gaps and sharp edges), wind, and rain.

Can there be any doubt that these are some of the world’s most impressive athletes? And don’t talk to me about doping (the riders are tested incessantly) or tiny concealed motors (the media’s favorite topic of controversy this year). Yes, there have been and will be those who try to gain an edge by unethical means, but I really don’t care. Watch these guys, and you will see human beings (you can tell from the blood that comes out of them when they crash, the tears when they are forced to withdraw before the end, and the joy on the face of a stage winner crossing the finish line) competing in a sport watched by few (at least in the US), without nearly the level of financial incentive enjoyed by other professional athletes (most of whom, by the way, would not be able to complete one day of the tour).

So why do they do it? Fame? Yes, you have Lance. You have Contador, and Sastre. Vinokourov. The Schleck brothers. Leipheimer, Hincapie, and Vandevelde. You have racers who have achieved heroic, almost mythic stature in their homelands. Hinault, Merckx, Coppi, Indurain. But I think most of the riders do it simply to be able to say that they can and did. Nothing more complicated than the sense of achievement that comes from testing the limit of your endurance and skill.

And that’s pretty damn cool.

*The categorization of the climbs is somewhat confusing, weighing distance traveled against average grade (a 5% grade is one where five vertical feet are gained for every 100 feet of forward travel). Category 4 is the least difficult, Category 1 the most, and HC beyond even that. It’s not a strictly linear scale, however; a 12% grade may be part of a Cat 2 climb, if it’s short, and a Cat 1 climb may only average 6%, but be 15-20 miles in length. A climb may be designated HC if it is difficult in the measurable extreme, because of overall altitude, or because it comes at the very end of the stage, with the finish line at the summit. Interestingly, the descents don’t factor into the designation, in spite of the fact that the degree of difficulty of traveling 50-60 mph down winding mountain roads is, shall we say, not insignificant.

365 days ago...

I woke up in my apartment in Pittsfield, MA, headed in to Lenox for my first pre-work coffee, and then drove to the Tanglewood grounds for the first time to meet with the rest of the summer 09 piano tech team. What a great memory, and what a great summer it was.

This year I'll be remaining in Illinois, to spend time with the lovely Ms. V, tend the garden, gather the work that's available, and continue the journey back to being a musician, in whatever way that presents itself. A summer with much potential.

The Once and Future Performing Musician

About a month ago, I made the decision to attempt to regain my playing skills on acoustic and electric bass. I last attempted this over an approximately two-month period in early '09, having not played at all since June of '07. It was painful then, and more painful now, but after a month I am approaching the point where I can play for an hour without significant discomfort. The pads and callouses were almost totally gone, and if I'm to really make a go of it, I need to avoid injury, so it's slow going. What's interesting so far, though, is what material I'm drawn to on each instrument. With no immediate performance goals ahead, I can be open to whatever my fingers tell me to work on.

I'm also continuing my baby steps towards becoming familiar with the Chapman Stick, an amazingly cool instrument I acquired about a year and a half ago. I've no idea where that will fit in, but it's fun to mess around with.

The practice cave:

I'm glad there is - VI

There are a few artists whose music brings a smile to my face every time I listen, and Monk is one of those. He left us to be the curators of his recorded legacy 28 years ago last month. Thanks to Phil at Wine Knows for rekindling this particular listening fire.

Random thoughts

I have both the time and the inclination to write a few random thoughts:

1) I really like baseball, even when the Cubs aren't involved. Watching the level of play in the playoffs is very much like watching the NCAA Men's Basketball tournament. Much appreciation for the skills. I am starting to think that there should be more use of replay, though. If the announcers in the broadcast booth can clearly show a mistake was made within seconds, a member of the umpiring crew in the booth could do the same and relay the information to the field. I don't think anyone, years from now, would look back fondly and say "I miss the days when botched calls could affect the course of a game".

2) Every winter is harder for me to approach. This year, we have had a very sudden transition, coupled with the fact that summer wasn't that warm to begin with. I'm feeling depressed and I know that temperature and shortened days have a major role. Moving south is looking more and more attractive.

3) If Iowa can beat MSU in East Lansing on Saturday, I'll start believing they're for real this season.

4) I enjoy the challenge and variety of working on pianos, but I also miss playing music with great musicians.

5) In spite of some things, life is, actually, pretty good right now.

6) The balloon parents should go to jail. That's all I have to say about that.

7) Facebook is interesting, intimidating, and annoying, in equal measure.