Years ago, I lived in a household that included a very black dog (dachshund-cocker spaniel cross, believe it or not). Bailey had an evening ritual of running out into our large, enclosed backyard. Some nights she'd hurry back to the back deck to be let back in the house after she'd conducted her necessary business. Sometimes, she'd prefer to linger, exploring the yard with its evening scents and sounds. Occasionally, if she remained out for an especially long time, I'd have to go out looking for her, just to ensure she hadn't found an escape route to the neighbours or the front yard.
So here I'd be, looking for a black dog in the dead of night on a large, unlit expanse of lawn. Black fur on a black background. Alrighty, then.
Even with very little available light, my eyes would sometimes adjust enough for me to pick up Bailey's motions. My eyes would focus on the location of movement, and the dog would vanish...but if I let the motion remain in my peripheral vision, I could pinpoint the dog's location. Direct focus obscured the image – while oblique non-focus located it.
Then, with a little more luck, her eyes might give off enough faint glow to help out...
Of course, this is not news to star-gazers. Focusing directly on a star with the naked eye usually obscures the stars details; an oblique view brings out the detail.
So what has this got to do with music?
Much to the joy and chagrin of most musicians, many great musical ideas and moments are accidental – or, at least, not wholly deliberate. They're the result of oblique effort; not direct.
Randy Bachmann, of BTO and Guess Who fame, famously admits that most of his biggest hits were unintentional. 'American Woman' originated as a live jam, 'Ain't Seen Nothing Yet' was a throwaway poke at a stuttering friend. Cheap Trick's 'Budokan' album wasn't even intended for wide release in Japan, let alone the rest of the world, and it became their biggest seller. I'm not saying unintentional success is the rule rather than the exception, but it plays a greater role than most people realize or admit.
I must concede, I've found the peripheral approach a more effective way to originate musical and lyrical ideas than to focus directly – and the earlier I am in the development of a song, the more I find this to be true.
This doesn't mean I'm especially good at taking my own advice. I still have the terrible habit of, say, sitting with a blank page of my notepad, awaiting the great first idea that will start off my next song and inspire me to the completion of the song (and that's pretty rare, to be sure). Some of my more inspired works have come from an attitude closer to “well, these ideas are probably silly, but let's see where they lead...”. Certainly, those ideas tend to be more original, more genuine and more fresh than the ones that come from hyper-focus and careful crafting. Focusing specifically on attaining a particular musical mood, a specific musical objective, usually does not come close to success. Even trying to pinpoint in words what I'm feeling at a particular time can be arduous – but in releasing the direct focus, and letting the details tell the story (even if it's a different story than what was originally intended), things tend to flow more easily, enjoyably, successfully.
The lesson to be drawn from this, weirdly enough, is that I – and perhaps more than a few other artists – need to try harder to not try so hard. Perhaps a slightly less confusing way to look at it is to have a little faith in the little sweatshop-workers of one's subconscious mind. They may not be as nutty or unfocused as they're reputed to be.
So here I'd be, looking for a black dog in the dead of night on a large, unlit expanse of lawn. Black fur on a black background. Alrighty, then.
Even with very little available light, my eyes would sometimes adjust enough for me to pick up Bailey's motions. My eyes would focus on the location of movement, and the dog would vanish...but if I let the motion remain in my peripheral vision, I could pinpoint the dog's location. Direct focus obscured the image – while oblique non-focus located it.
Then, with a little more luck, her eyes might give off enough faint glow to help out...
Of course, this is not news to star-gazers. Focusing directly on a star with the naked eye usually obscures the stars details; an oblique view brings out the detail.
So what has this got to do with music?
Much to the joy and chagrin of most musicians, many great musical ideas and moments are accidental – or, at least, not wholly deliberate. They're the result of oblique effort; not direct.
Randy Bachmann, of BTO and Guess Who fame, famously admits that most of his biggest hits were unintentional. 'American Woman' originated as a live jam, 'Ain't Seen Nothing Yet' was a throwaway poke at a stuttering friend. Cheap Trick's 'Budokan' album wasn't even intended for wide release in Japan, let alone the rest of the world, and it became their biggest seller. I'm not saying unintentional success is the rule rather than the exception, but it plays a greater role than most people realize or admit.
I must concede, I've found the peripheral approach a more effective way to originate musical and lyrical ideas than to focus directly – and the earlier I am in the development of a song, the more I find this to be true.
This doesn't mean I'm especially good at taking my own advice. I still have the terrible habit of, say, sitting with a blank page of my notepad, awaiting the great first idea that will start off my next song and inspire me to the completion of the song (and that's pretty rare, to be sure). Some of my more inspired works have come from an attitude closer to “well, these ideas are probably silly, but let's see where they lead...”. Certainly, those ideas tend to be more original, more genuine and more fresh than the ones that come from hyper-focus and careful crafting. Focusing specifically on attaining a particular musical mood, a specific musical objective, usually does not come close to success. Even trying to pinpoint in words what I'm feeling at a particular time can be arduous – but in releasing the direct focus, and letting the details tell the story (even if it's a different story than what was originally intended), things tend to flow more easily, enjoyably, successfully.
The lesson to be drawn from this, weirdly enough, is that I – and perhaps more than a few other artists – need to try harder to not try so hard. Perhaps a slightly less confusing way to look at it is to have a little faith in the little sweatshop-workers of one's subconscious mind. They may not be as nutty or unfocused as they're reputed to be.