Hold on a moment, I've been called upon to give a count-in. This is illustrative of my key role during rehearsals.
We are working on Jonathan's song, abstractly named "Qualifiers." There has been some confusion over diminished guitar chords, but I think Cerin has made sense of it. It is just me, Jonathan, and Cerin tonight.
Jonathan offers for Cerin to make any changes to his chords that she sees necessary, and Cerin retorts that she is merely the tool to make his vision a reality. He instructs her to speed up, and she adopts a pained expression, and makes a sarcastic remark about not being able to psychically divine what he has in mind. Jonathan acknowledges making a mistake: the song should be in cut time, not whole time.
Jonathan expresses concern that he will come out looking like a jerk in the blog entry, but of course, that's all up to him.
The chorus is a puzzle. There's a bridge, with all the chords that really drive Cerin crazy, then four bars of E-flat, then some other stuff.
Cerin has been instructed to stop playing for four bars of the song, after a B-flat. Well, it might be seven bars, Jonathan thinks. Yes, he's pretty sure. He will give her eye contact to come back in. No, it will be eight bars. Then verse, verse, chorus again.
Cerin fears she has copied down the wrong diminished chord. Yes, she has. It is "wrongness personified." No, Jonathan argues: it sounds good. "You don't get the bass note on the A chord because it's not in the chord," Cerin tells him. But he likes it when she plays the chord's top four strings.
High F, low F, Jonathan doesn't care: whatever's easier.
They are giving the first verse a whirl. It sounds better than I expected, frankly. I like the guitar part; it's smart. There is a debate over what the strumming should sound like, and some expressed bitterness from Cerin that we are playing in cut time. Whatever that means.
Jonathan has thanked Cerin for putting up with him, but she cautioned that we are only halfway through the song, and she may yet be compelled to kill him, especially when we get to those diminished chords.
I have just made a vastly intelligent contribution to tonight's effort by observing that the faster we play this song, the shorter it will be.
We just had a discussion about why I like those vexing minor chords so much. I was offered a totally incomprehensible explanation based on music theory.
We are all happy on Mic's behalf that there's not a keyboard part on this song, because he learns things by ear rather than by reading music, Cerin said, and according to Cerin, Jonathan has arranged the song eccentrically, with some things that repeat within other repeating things, which would stymie someone trying to learn it quickly by ear.
Jonathan has called for what I feel is a horribly, horribly wrong chord in the chorus. I have stated my firm opposition, verging on loathing, to this A-diminished chord. He and Cerin are trying out other options. They have arrived at one that meets with my approval, an A-minor chord.
Cerin is bitching about Jonathan's changes. Now SHE'S worried she's going to sound like a jerk to all this blog's countless devoted readers.
My second bottle of beer is disturbingly empty. I get another one.
Cerin is dismayed to learn that the song does not end when she thought it does: instead of four verses, it has five, plus two bridges. Cerin: "I had no idea what I was getting myself into." She warns that it is starting to sound "dirge-like." We speed it up again.
Cerin is now pursing her lips, refusing to play faster at my command, and asserting once again, pointlessly, that she is "not my guitar monkey." You know, if it makes her feel better to think that, I'm cool with it.
Cerin says there are so many repetitions that she forgets where she is in the song. A moment is taken while Jonathan ponders what elements of the song he can cut, and laments the idea of axing a line he likes. But he grits his teeth and crosses out a verse and a chorus, mercifully. Cerin acknowledges, with some trepidation, that now when she loses her place, it will be her own fault.
They sing/play again, and Cerin argues for more cuts. Radical cuts! Jonathan resists. Cerin argues that with extra notes playing in spots where Jonathan isn't singing, the song is actually twice as long as a song with five verses. Jonathan agrees to try the song with some additional, Cerin-imposed cuts. "It's going to be hard for me," he says. Cerin generously offers to give Jonathan two measures back per chorus, but she has still managed to cut a whoppin' 24 measures from the dirge as a whole.
We're going to try to record a guitar track. Jonathan and Cerin are negotiating hand signals to cue her chord changes. Eight of the cut bars are reinserted, to Cerin's and my dismay. I play with the egg shaker.
Breakthrough: two entire verses and their accompanying choruses are cut. Cerin insists that this cut gives the song a new and elegant symmetry. The play/sing it again; we still haven't recorded a thing. It has ended, and the ending is rousing. I approve. The cut breathed life into the song.
We have just made a solid recording of the guitar and solid recording of the voice. We are pleased. Jonathan was surprised that his voice has so much vibrato.
He comments that it might sound good if we "run it through a filter" and give it a "low-fi sound." Cerin and I cynically remark that it could not possibly sound more low-fi than it already does, but Jonathan explains it might sound good with a crackly 40s-record-style sound, and I have to agree. Might give that a whirl.
Meanwhile, another rehearsal has drawn to a close. Tomorrow is another KEIT day.
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