Composing and Songwriting
As I see it, there are two fundamental ways of approaching music making: composing or songwriting. The latter being limited by a set of predetermined rules about structure, melody and harmony. While the former basically the opposite. Of course, there was a time when classical music had its own set of specific rules, but as far as I can tell, even then it was much less constrained than popular music. By the middle 20th century, classical and jazz music became, more or less, free in that regard. While the requirements to making a piece of music that can be called a “song” remain practically unchanged and are but variations of a formula that has been around for many centuries, as far as we can tell.
When I first started making music I approached it through songwriting, since it was what I knew most and best. This would be from 12 to 17 years old. By the end of that period in my life I had amassed a significant knowledge of the song format but, as I started listening to other non-song-format music, I started to grow tired and restless to free myself of it. From that point on, I started to make my way towards approaching music from the “composer” point of view.
From 17 to 22 I made the strangest, weirdest kind of music, in all kinds of mediums, with all kinds of instruments and practically no regard whatsoever to form or genre. It was, to say the least, not very successful in terms of audience attraction.
At 22 I decided to go back, tentatively, to songwriting. Handwrist grew from that decision, after a few attempts along those lines. I wanted to make music that was more accessible, so to speak, so I had to go back to format. I wrote about 30 rock songs. Some of them would appear in the Handwrist EP, the project's first release. As I expected it was much more successful than my previous efforts in terms of the number of people that listened to it. For the album that would follow I decided to try to incorporate some of my “composing” instincts and ideas into the songwriting process, while still maintaining some kind of structure that would be accepted as a “song”, and hence, more accessible.
What happened next was, I know now, inevitable. The tiredness I had gotten before from songwriting came again, and much faster. And if you listen to my albums in chronological order you can sense a transformation, which is in equal parts conscious and unconscious. That transformation is the “composer” side overcoming the “songwriter” side. First, very timidly and now very openly. This hasn't necessarily meant that I have gone back to the days of no audience at all. But I have, for sure, somewhat alienated some people who were expecting, from the first album, something along those lines, every time.
The truth is I can't. And wouldn't. My aim is to offer something new and unexpected, not to make sequels. For me to make only one genre of music would be like a cook whose recipes are all stews. Of course, there is nothing inherently evil or wrong about specializing and dedicating yourself to one task and being good at it. It is certainly a good thing to know your limits. But that is not the way I go about my business.
The truth is that all kinds of rock music are fairly limited and so either one approaches it as just another ingredient in a ever-evolving dish, or one is forced to enshrine that ingredient as the end-all and be-all of cuisine. These culinary metaphors are not random. Music is the closest of all the arts to being absolutely a necessity of life to me. And I think an album should be a full-course meal, with variety necessarily a feature. That's what I strive for, anyway.
When I first started making music I approached it through songwriting, since it was what I knew most and best. This would be from 12 to 17 years old. By the end of that period in my life I had amassed a significant knowledge of the song format but, as I started listening to other non-song-format music, I started to grow tired and restless to free myself of it. From that point on, I started to make my way towards approaching music from the “composer” point of view.
From 17 to 22 I made the strangest, weirdest kind of music, in all kinds of mediums, with all kinds of instruments and practically no regard whatsoever to form or genre. It was, to say the least, not very successful in terms of audience attraction.
At 22 I decided to go back, tentatively, to songwriting. Handwrist grew from that decision, after a few attempts along those lines. I wanted to make music that was more accessible, so to speak, so I had to go back to format. I wrote about 30 rock songs. Some of them would appear in the Handwrist EP, the project's first release. As I expected it was much more successful than my previous efforts in terms of the number of people that listened to it. For the album that would follow I decided to try to incorporate some of my “composing” instincts and ideas into the songwriting process, while still maintaining some kind of structure that would be accepted as a “song”, and hence, more accessible.
What happened next was, I know now, inevitable. The tiredness I had gotten before from songwriting came again, and much faster. And if you listen to my albums in chronological order you can sense a transformation, which is in equal parts conscious and unconscious. That transformation is the “composer” side overcoming the “songwriter” side. First, very timidly and now very openly. This hasn't necessarily meant that I have gone back to the days of no audience at all. But I have, for sure, somewhat alienated some people who were expecting, from the first album, something along those lines, every time.
The truth is I can't. And wouldn't. My aim is to offer something new and unexpected, not to make sequels. For me to make only one genre of music would be like a cook whose recipes are all stews. Of course, there is nothing inherently evil or wrong about specializing and dedicating yourself to one task and being good at it. It is certainly a good thing to know your limits. But that is not the way I go about my business.
The truth is that all kinds of rock music are fairly limited and so either one approaches it as just another ingredient in a ever-evolving dish, or one is forced to enshrine that ingredient as the end-all and be-all of cuisine. These culinary metaphors are not random. Music is the closest of all the arts to being absolutely a necessity of life to me. And I think an album should be a full-course meal, with variety necessarily a feature. That's what I strive for, anyway.