All posts tagged process

The darkest element of the process is in many ways its most essential.

When the CMYK print process is done correctly, the Cyan, Magenta and Yellow plates are lined up with the black plate; they are “Keyed” to the black plate, which is where the black plate gets it’s name: “K.”  What this means is that while black is only a part of the process, it is key to the clarity and fullness of the image being printed. The darkest element of the process is in many ways its most essential.

On Sunday night in CT, I met the mother of twin boys who had lost their father to suicide. I also met a couple who had lost their eight-year old boy in a bicycle accident just a few short months ago. Both that mother and that couple sponsored kids with Compassion International.

That mother approached me after my set and asked to sponsor Luci, the young girl whose packet I held up while talking about sponsored kids in India. “I want Luci to be part of my family’s process.” She told me. Luci is now part of the beautiful, true and good image that widowed mother and her boys are making with their life.  Luci is like a splash of vibrant Magenta accented by the black of her sponsors family’s grief.

The couple who lost their son came to the table where the other child packets were and found a young boy named Hernan. Hernan shares a birthday with their boy. He is now part of the beautiful, true and good image that couple is making with their life. Hernan is like a splash of bright Yellow accented by the black of his new sponsor family’s loss.

No dark moment is the end of the process much less the whole of it,  though for a time when we’re close to it that moment and its darkness can seem like all there is. Both the stories mentioned above remind me of part of why I started the CMYK Project: Because no dark season is the whole of a life.  Not as long as there is tomorrow ..and I believe that there is always tomorrow. Tomorrow means another step in the process or at least the opportunity to take it and I believe that the end of the process is Good.

SPEAKING OF TOMORROW: Tomorrow marks the official launch of CMYK, phase two. Watch for my sign… or more likely an email, FB post or tweet or something like that.

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Songwriting: Maturity

I highly recommend reading Irving Stone’s novelized biography of Vincent Van Gogh. An enjoyable read and a guidepost for artists.  This final songwriting post is focused on a short scene in the book.

Vincent Van Gogh had spent the past six years supported by his brother and borrowing on the kindness of others in order to fully invest in his own development as an artist. Now in Paris, he had come across the Impressionists and was overwhelmed by how much work he still had ahead of him.  Pacing the floor wildly, breaking glasses and trashing his own pieces, he asks his brother, Theo…

VINCENT: “Must I give up? Am I through? It looks that way, doesn’t it?

THEO: “Vincent, you’re behaving like a child…”

VINCENT: “But Theo I’ve let you support me for six long years. And what do you get out of it? ..a hopeless failure on your hands.”

THEO: “Listen, old boy. When you wanted to draw the peasants, did you catch the entire trick in a week? Or did it take you five years?

VINCENT: “Yes, but I was beginning then.”

THEO: “You’re just beginning with colour today! And it will probably take you another five years.”

VINCENT: “Is there no end to this, Theo? Must I go tot school all my life? I’m thrity-three; when in God’s name do I reach maturity?”

Maturity is never about arrival. Every next song, every next album, every new melody or lyric is a beginning. The process of becoming a songwriter is a perpetual process and is only a process; you are always becoming. Success is faithfulness to the process. Maturity is the humble recognition that there is, and will always be, a next step.

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This is the last in a series on songwriting. The first is about finishing songs, the second has to do with making bad art until we can make better, the third was about  focusing on a specific image and the fourth was a short, anecdotal story.

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Songwriting: Master Study

This is the fifth in a series on songwriting. The first is about finishing songs, the second has to do with making bad art until we can make better, the third was about  focusing on a specific image and the fourth was a short, anecdotal story.

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It’s a safe bet that Tom Petty is a better songwriter than you are.  It would be great if you could sit down with him and work on your material; have him coach and critique you. But that’s not going to happen.  So, I suggest the next best thing: rip him off and write a Tom Petty song of your own.** Inspiration is wonderful but we too often move from being inspired by someone to innovation; making our own work with (hopefully) our own, unique signature. I suggest that imitation is a missing link in songwriting development.

My wife studied studio art in college and spent a good chunk of time not just looking at but re-painging or re-sculping pieces by great artists. By re-painting Wayne Thiebaud pieces, she learned how Thiebaud accomplishes the richness and depth of his work.  I believe that such knowledge is gained only by practice and that being both informed and formed by the techniques, practices and general way of superior artists is a key to real artistic growth.

So, pick a Tom Petty song (or a song by someone you’re inspired by as a writer) and first learn it as is; Tempo, Chords, Melody, Lyrics, Lyric Placement etc.. And then write something just like it. Here are some keys to the Master Study practice:

1. Writing it at the same tempo: Likely, you have a tempo you more naturally gravitate towards. The only way to break free of that is to practice songs in other tempos or even other time signatures.  Because time and tempo are almost entirely about muscle-memory, you’ll always feel awkward and unnatural at a given tempo until you’ve played it repeatedly… just like throwing a ball or learning to play a chord. So practice by “studying” a song that has resonated with a lot of people; a song that you know “works.”

2. Using the same chord structures:  Does he play that “G” chord barred or open? Is there a brief sustain? Do it exactly that way, or as exactly as you can.  Again, you likely have a certain set of chords and chord structures you like. As your ear attunes itself to other (and hopefully) better sounds, you’ll want to have a broader spectrum of chords and structures to choose from.

3. Paying attention to lyric placement: Aside from the long discipline of becoming a lyricist, learning where to actually place words or “fit them into” a song is vital. You’ve likely felt either that long, awkward space between phrases and felt like something ought to be there.. OR more likely, you’ve felt the even more awkward squeeze of having far too many words for the space your song provides.  So, how long are his phrases? How does the lyrical rhythm work with the rest of the arrangement? Do his lyrics land on upbeats?.. Does it work with the rhythm of the main instrument or against it? Is the song structured around the lyric?

In the practice of art, there are very few formulas.  A Master Study, imitating the way of superior artists, is one of the only pure and consistent methods for growth.

(** This is an exercise. I wouldn’t suggest making this available to the public… kinda like you wouldn’t post vids of yourself doing pull-ups.)

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Songwriting: Measure Your Best Against Your Best

A friend of mine manages one of my favorite bands.  This is a story he tells about the writing and recording of that band’s most recent full-length album; a collection of songs I consider to be clearly their best work.

The band had worked for about a year on twelve songs they were planning on tracking for their next album.  They spent a few days in the studio putting together pretty slick-sounding preproduction tracks for their manager to give final approval.

That’s when this conversation (or some form of it) took place:

MANAGER: This is good work.
BAND: Thanks. We’re really happy with it.
MANAGER: I’m particularly pleased with these five songs. They’re clearly the better songs on the album. Wouldn’t you agree?
BAND: (looking at the list): Yeah, probably.
MANAGER: Alright, then. I’m pushing the recording back.
BAND: … Um.. Why?
MANAGER: Start writing again and see if you can write five songs at least as good as the better five of this batch. Then we’ll have a great record on our hands instead of half a good one. 

After hearing this story in 2007, I listened back to the songs I’d written for my next project… and started cutting.  I’d rough-tracked 16 songs and cut it down to 7 immediately, knowing that some songs were simply not as good. I realized I’d compromised on my own process and that’s dumb.  I pushed my own studio dates back another month and I got back to writing. Part of why I’m so fond of “Deconstruction” is that when I look down that track list, there isn’t a single song I wouldn’t choose to record again.

I can look back on albums from 1999-2009 and tell you exactly which songs are the better songs on each album and which songs I could live without. Back then, it was common that half an album (or less) was clearly superior and had clearly been more attended to.  Times have changed.  Today, if I’m going to release an entire collection, I’ve got to be certain that it’s worth the time, effort and money to track all of it.

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Songwriting: Make Bad Art

This is the second in a series of posts related to the topic of song-writing. The first is about finishing songs and is very closely related to this one. You might have passed it on your way here.

If you’re early on in the artistic process, you’re probably making bad art. Keep making it.

In high-school, I remember seeing a play by a local playwright which he’d written about… writing a play. (Interestingly, the thing writers often write about when suffering from writers block is either writing or writers block.)

The scene that stuck with me from that play was a conversation between the playwright and another, older playwright.

Young Playwright (YP): “I just feel like everything I write is crap.”
Old Playwright (OP): “It probably is. You’re still too young to write great dialogue.”
YP: “So, what am I supposed to do?”
OP: “Keep writing.”
YP: “Wait.. you just agreed that it’s probably crap.”
OP: “Yes, but it’s out of the manure that the flowers grow.”

Just like learning anything else, your first few efforts or first season of effort is usually going to be rough. Muscles and muscle memory are yet to be developed. Be patient. Fall down. But keep at it.

Another way to think about it is like a cleansing; the same way you have to throw out the first batch of ice from the freezer’s ice-maker. Our creative “plumbing” likely has some blockage and rust and whatnot from years of non-use or mis-use. Sometimes it’s working out all the residue from bad art we’ve taken in.*

The other way to look at it is that, there are probably good ideas mixed up in the bad and that the only way to get them out is to get it all out. As I’ve written previously, we can only evaluate our work once we’ve got some distance from it.

(*listening to better music is another blog.)

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Songwriting: Finish

This is the first in a series of posts related to the topic of song-writing. I’ve done a fair share of it in my time as a songwriter and it’s high time I passed on a what bit of wisdom I’ve gathered in my process.

Andre Agassi’s father told him to hit the ball as hard as he could and that someday it would land in-bounds. Eventually, it did. Often. Agassi became one of the greatest players in tennis history. You will, too if you buy my new instructional songwriting video series “Write It Like McRoberts.”

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In short, I  can be too careful to “get it right” and end up not getting anything done at all.

I’m not a perfectionist.  Yet, in my songwriting, I find something akin to perfectionism at work.  It’s a tendency I’ve worked hard to move away from because it kept me from working.  I’d stop in the process of writing when I wasn’t entirely happy with what I had in hand.  Songs would sit unfinished for months or years and at times, I’d hesitate to even approach songwriting, knowing that some half-finished work would be staring  me in the face like sad, hungry puppy I locked in my office.

I’ve learned that I have to finish. Even if it wasn’t going to turn out perfectly (and it often wouldn’t).  Only once I’d completed a song could I get enough altitude or distance from it to actually critique it.  As long as it was unfinished, it was still inside me in some way… far too close to critically evaluate it or change it.

So, it has meant putting some bad parts or melodies in place, knowing they aren’t so great, just so I could listen to a whole song.  Sometimes, I’d come back to that finished song and find that the part I’d thrown in just so I could finish wasn’t half bad (the squeeze of finishing yields some great results at times). More often, it wasn’t until I could hear the song in context that I knew what it still needed and what might work; again, it was about having some distance from it.

Most importantly, finishing when you don’t “feel ready” helps establish an actual process for the work of songwriting. If it’s just an emotional outpouring or exercise in self-expression, that’s fine. But great (or even good) songwriting takes discipline. Finishing is a good place to begin that discipline.