The title references the latest episode of of the Music & Meaning podcast (April 23, 2024). The subtitle, my father’s mantra, is at the heart of the show too—a tale of the democratization of music creation, a lowering of the barrier to entry so low, that now everyone can write a song with a few text prompts. No . . . for real? Yep. It’s all unpacked in this episode with experts, studio demonstrations, and my commentary and conundrums on full display. Enjoy. And do please add your witty, positive comments and do the starring thing ★★★★★. This helps put the podcast in front of more good people like you. Thanks for being on the team.
This excerpt from our new book, Why Everything That Doesn’t Matter, Matters So Much, connects to the podcast topic nicely:
Ambrose’s most famous student was Augustine, the world-weary saint who wrote a series of thirteen books called Confessions. In book nine Augustine remembered the music of his teacher this way:
“The tears flowed from me when I heard your hymns and canticles, for the sweet singing of your church moved me deeply. The music surged in my ears, truth seeped into my heart, and my feelings of devotion overflowed, so that the tears streamed down.”
Giving props to one’s teacher has a long history, particularly in the Rabbinic tradition. Equally so in the arts. To speak reverently and proudly of our teacher(s) is an act of humility, making clear that the knowledge and skill we possess is not actually all our own. Naming our teachers is good storytelling, revealing significant players in our lives. For example, Dean Estabrook gave me instrumental instruction at Tierra Buena elementary school and then taught me Diatonic Analysis and Harmony (music theory) at Yuba City High School. Not exactly post-graduate study, but no less important to my story. I name Mr. Estabrook whenever I have the opportunity (including naming a song after him on my solo piano recording, Trout Creek Ranch).
I have every right to claim I’m a self-taught pianist, but the boast is somewhat inaccurate. I may not have endured years of weekly piano lessons, but my ability to improvise on the piano and arrange music is communally constructed from the history of jazz improvisers and educators and arrangers whose books I studied, including John Mehegan, Dan Haerle, David Baker, Don Sebesky, and Mickey Baker. Directly, or indirectly, explicitly or implicitly, the learning gets done. For the autodidact it may be more ad hoc, but no less effective.
My teacher of teachers, my Ambrose, was my Dad. All other teachers served the good work he had already begun in me. Like Malcolm Gladwell with his ten thousand hours, my dad believed in the power of repetition. One thousand three hundred and thirty-five times he told me: “If you’re gonna do it half-assed then don’t do it at all.” This stuck with me; glued to my cerebrum. His command applied to a number of things. Especially playing the trumpet, learning music theory, cleaning the garage, and generally avoiding becoming what Dad called “a screw-up”—making me an adult-child of an aphorism.
Like many in his generation, Dad also said, “If it were easy, everyone would do it.”
As it turns out, the new AI music creation tools, aimed not at musicians but at consumers, are making this aphorism painfully accurate—OR glorious—it’s up to US to decide.
Show Notes for Episode 11:
AI is giving music consumers the apps to make their own tunes—or at least make ABBA sing like chipmunks. In today's show, Charlie rides a rollercoaster of emotions. He loves to play with the new tech but has the blues over the effortless nature of modern music-making tools. With a few text prompts, anyone can create a hooky pop song in 60 seconds—easy as ordering a latte—you don't even have to spell Tayler Swift right, let alone know music theory.
Contributing to today's episode are music educators Dr. Matthew White, Associate Professor and Chair of Jazz Studies at the University of South Carolina, and Thavius Beck, Assistant Professor in Electronic Production and Design at Berklee College of Music. They reveal how musical academia has evolved to encompass classical/jazz proficiency and digital innovation. However, what constitutes essential music literacy is still being debated.
Susan Stewart from the Recording Academy also tells us if AI-composed music gets to sit with the cool kids at the Grammys. Spoiler alert: there's a human dress code.
Special musical guest, bassist, and singer/songwriter Scott Mulvahill exemplifies the merger of old and new schools, blending his mastery of upright bass and songwriting with new music technology.
In summary, this episode challenges listeners to consider the implications of some mind-blowing technological advancements for both current and future musicians and music consumers who increasingly engage in creating music themselves. Charlie weaves engaging discussions with poignant "in-the-studio" examples and invites us to reassess the essence of musical talent, imagination, and creativity in the digital age. The big, meaningful question? Does easy access to making music enhance or undermine the true art of music and the culture that loves and supports it?
Get comfortable, adjust your headphones, and let's decide whether music's new production tech leads to a satisfying crescendo or a cacophonous catastrophe.
News . . .
For you audio and Audible listeners, there's some bonus content available with the audio book version of the new book. We were privileged to include conversations with best-selling author, Dr. Curt Thompson, M.D., a pioneer in psychiatry, neurobiology, and Christian spirituality; Dr. Steven Garber, author of Visions of Vocation, Sr. Fellow with the Murdock Charitable Trust and cofounder of Wedgwood Circle; and our own Ruby Amanfu, Nashville recording artist and (2x) Grammy-nominated songwriter for Song of the Year (H.E.R., Alicia Keys & Brandi Carlile). Find it HERE.
Fave new band, Slap Dragon.
CP deep catalog song of the day.
Son, Sam carrying the torch for our native California.
Memoir Update: The title will be Roots & Rhythm. As of this date, photo shoot is done with Jeremy Cowart, copyedit has been approved, writer is working on new bio, and the first round of covers are finished. Lots more to come as we work toward a February 2025 release with a new vocal album first, in September.
Peace to all.
We need gatekeepers for music to shepherd, that can lead with grace, wisdom and humility. Hopefully the younger musicians will also help the gatekeepers remember the joy and passion that drew them to music.
Not sure I always catch the meaning of songs, but this podcast reminds me of the Rush lyrics:
"All this machinery making modern music
Can still be open-hearted
Not so coldly charted, it's really just a question of your honesty
Yeah, your honesty
One likes to believe in the freedom of music
But glittering prizes and endless compromises
Shatter the illusion of integrity, yeah"
Requiem for Hal
Creativity has more to do with the creator than the instrument or the medium it’s being applied to. I always figured that if a creative person were stranded on a desert island, he/she would find a way to write an opera using coconuts. Creativity is an illusive subjective discipline. Who’s to say what makes music valid or what makes it good. But as the saying goes, I don’t know what good music is, but I know it when I hear it. Regardless of the instrument or app being used to create a song--- it always gets down to these things. Does listening to a piece of music make you feel something? Does it engage you? Does it reach you at a visceral level?
Why does a minor chord make you feel sad or melancholy? Why do major chords make you feel joyous or happy? It's just strings vibrating at a certain frequency creating an emotional response. That's a mysterious thing----a beautiful thing, a soulful thing. Which begs the question, does AI have a soul? Can AI replicate soulfulness? Maybe that’s a question better answered by Hal from "2001: A Space Odyssey"——“Open the pod door Hal” "I'm sorry Dave I can't do that". There's the repetitive sound of Dave inhaling and exhaling in his space suite. "I'm afraid Dave". As Dave begins to turn off Hal's operating system, Hal begins to sing, “A Bicycle Built For Two.” His voice gradually retards as he's being disconnected, he's dying. Do you have to have a soul in order to die? Hum--?
You can practice and learn to play all the scales and modes and still be a lack luster musician. There are artistic intangibles beyond technique. Charlie Parker once said, “First you learn the instrument, then you learn the music, then you forget all that s**t and just play.” “Thought is the enemy of flow” (Vinnie Colaiuta). Maybe thinking has nothing to do with creativity.
Maybe it doesn’t matter how we get there (because there is no “there” there) but more importantly, musically we must evolve and innovate new and interesting ways to express ourselves. Creativity abhors rules and dismisses convention. It leaves those behind who find themselves trapped in the amber of a gone by style or era.
I fight that feeling of becoming an old fart who shakes his fist at the sky and screams “They sure as hell don’t write them the way they use to.” But then again, there's parts of me too that says music is a sacred thing and doesn’t deserve to be trivialized by some punk kid playing around with an AI app.
Music began thousands of years ago by some guy beating out a groove on a hollow log. Was that music? Hum? Be it a hollow log or an AI app, one thing that hasn’t changed in all these years, is that music has been and always will be in the process of trying to find new and innovative ways to communicate complex human emotions. And I suppose that's all that matters.