Well, I got back from up north a couple of days ago and have been working around the clock at one final all out full scale assault on the mess which I call an office.

I am actually looking at a carpeted floor, as I sit here and type this.

I often marvel when I see the floor, because I often wonder whether it is still down there below all of the stuff which I have unceremoniousy thrown upon it.

My work method reminds me of paramedic calls.

We rip open fluids, and lines, and containers, and needles, and etc. and simply throw everything in every direction, not caring, particularly, where it lands, being far more focused on the patient than the trash which is quickly accumulating.

After 15 minutes of this we will have the rig so trashed out that it takes us over an  hour to clean up our mess once we are finished at the hospital.

I seem to have brought this same method of work home with me, on a permanent, or semi-permanent basis.

I guess we all must ultimately face the music:

it is just so much fun to throw all of that stuff around.

All I am missing is the excuse, which I will soon enough find, given enough time and space.

And who wants to pick it all back up?


and that's for sure.

I seem to have the same problem in the kitchen.

I have been thrown out (of my own kitchen, no less) so many times that I long ago lost count and began to eat out of my vegetable garden outside, instead of bringing them in for cooking.

The complaint that I have always heard is:

How in the world could you possibly get all of that stuff up/in/at that place?

I've never seen anything like it ---

or words to that effect.

I really do just love to cook.

But I just simply have no idea how all of that mess COULD possibly get to where it got.

Therefore, it must not be so.

Simple, but very effective "logic".

Hey, it works for me almost every time.

You should see how many other things this can work for.

But, I will spare you that, right now.


When I first started to formally study music and composition and music theory at about 15 years old I happened on a very interesting little book that was devoted entirely to the subject of melody.

One does not usually think much about such things, so that upon reading it my mind was illuminated in a way which has never stopped, even for one moment, since.

In attempting to analyze what makes a melody, exactly, and what makes a great melody versus one that simply is not.

It is not ALL a matter of art.

This had already been amply demonstrated by Hans Helmholz in his voluminous studies of the physics of sound.

He attempted to show that concord and discord are not purely subjective, such that one man's discord is another man's concord.

Rather, there is a physical basis which causes the ears to hear one sound as harsh and another sound as beautiful or otherwise satsisfying to the soul.

Once this was well understood during the later 1800's one could not longer consider harmony and counterpoint with the corollaries of concord and discord without thinking about all of the incredible illustrations and diagrams by which Helmholz helped the lay person to understand just exactly what it is that is going on here.

There are numerous layers of vibrations upon further layers of viabrations in each of the simplest of sounds.

Once they become complex they are at a level of mathematical innumeracy as one simply cannot possibly keep up with what is going on.

The violin and the human voice are both particularly problematic when it comes to this matter of complexity (especially when one is digitizing the data i.e. binary code = all 0,1, which is then converted into hexadecimal code = i.e. everything must be quantified if it is ever to be heard).

So, to date we still don't even have a really good piano sound or flute sound when synthesized;  and these are the simplest sounds which there are in music.

It is truly amazing the things which are going on all around us and which we simply are unaware of or do not understand or care to even consider.

As I looked out at the waves on the seawall while recording chants with a sampled choir and strings, I wondered whether the waves of  sound would look the same if I was really tiny.

When one watches an ocean wave closely they will see that it reaches a point at which it crests.

Then the crest collapses.

It is really interesting to watch, because as the crest reaches it's highest point, everything around it has already begun to collapse from underneath it so that the crest which has risen so high toward the sky just one moment ago now collapses and caves in upon itself.

The moon is pulling the wave up to it's crest.

The earth is pulling it back down to the ground.

It continues in a relentless motion.

But, as one sits for a long time and contemplates the matter one will soon notice that there are other things going on inside the waves which were not so obvious at first glance.

There is a sort of swishing and swirling which is nearly constant at a seawall as the waves pound into it and are forcibly ejected back out to sea.

It is this underlying rhythm which is so difficult to capture in a performance.

Unless, of course, you just happen to be sitting in the midst of the waves while recording.

Now, just as you would play with a drum machine or a click track, you can, instead, use the very pulse of the ocean waves themselves as they are tugged back and forth between height and depth and crashing and swirling all over the place, as your rhythm machine.

So, there are different levels in the musical performance which are overlapping as they all take place simultaneously.

This is where one can learn about great melody.

It will be right at home with all of that swirling and swishing and splashing about.

I was reminded of the fact that many of the Irish chant writers lived on the coast by the ocean and were quite used to hearing the storm waves and surf waves in the background.

It becomes a sort of a backdrop to the music.

So, much so, that once heard, the impression is unmistakeable.

That is, you can hear the ocean in the music if you listen carefuly to the rhythms and phrasings.


I know you think I've gone off the deep end, yet once again.

And just maybe I have.

But, this has been revelatory to me, and I just simply had to share it.

No more.  And no less.

Oh, and for those who have been paying close attention during the past weeks, you may have asked yourself whether these chants could be coming from the manuscript which I picked up in Zurich?

The answer is yes.

But, no.

That is because the copy I am using is from Doblinger's in Vienna.

Seems I bought a duplicate copy in Zurich.

Because the manuscript is very rare I certainly did not mind locating and purchasing a second copy = no problem.

In this regard I would like to note, briefly, that it has taken me about ten years of rigorous study to get to the point where i am with playing the medieval music.

Between the use of the ecclesiatical modes and the very weird phrasing, I simply found it hopeless when I first started.

But I have simply kept working at it year in and year out and feel that i am finally getting to the point of understanding where I have something useful to say in terms of actual performance and recordation.

The more I work with it the more I like it.

Trouble is, it makes most everything written after 1750 sound --- well --- uhhh -- you know --- uuhhh --- (noisy?).

Well, as usual, I have much more to say, but must get going as there is much work to be done.

Hope to be on here later today or this evening.

Of course, that's what i said yesterday, and the day before.

So, please bear with me as i finish getting this mess cleaned up.



1:50 p.m.

Ventura, California, USA