This feels reminiscent of livejournal, 2005

"Do music, but only do it if there is absolutely nothing else you can see yourself doing in life. If there is anything else, do that." i heard this when i was seventeen and in a room crammed full of percussion instruments.

i didn't listen, and six years passed.

first i didn't listen because i thought it wasn't true - because i thought i was smarter than that.

then i didn't listen because i thought i could find another thing to do.

i didn't listen because i ignored all of the reasons that 

i fell in

love

i didn't listen because others were telling me only what i wanted to hear about doing something else.

but no one has lied about doing music. no one has lied or held anything back about it. no one pretended it would take care of me with money. no one pretended there would be any guarantees. no one promised a secure profession.

time to listen to some words i heard seven years ago, in a room full of musicians, with one of the most influential people in my life.

there is absolutely nothing boring about something that can make you feel cry think dance laugh shiver move twinge shudder collapse headbang. there is nothing boring about the rush, the chills, and blissful sensations that flow through your body when something beautiful really moves you.

stare at the past

With the power out and a darker sky, I took some photos of the way-up-high. 

less a letter

There's gaffers tape on our panyard spaces that have our names written on them. Mine read "Pasta." It always had, even since before I'd arrived freshmen year; the older students had decided on my nickname. Every year a new piece of tape is layered on top, again with our names. I peeled off the top piece of tape, today; some of last year's tape came up with it. As I went to leave I couldn't help but notice that some of the tape was left behind with only one letter fewer. Past.

David MacBride's Percussion Park

David MacBride's Percussion Park was performed at The Hartt School on April 16th, 2011. The Hartt Percussion Studio, several other instrumentalists, and audience members took part in a concert that took over rehearsal rooms,  the auditorium, hallways, stairwells, and the elevator.

Photos from dress rehearsal (and a couple from the performance)

noise

floating

reminiscing

walking

reminiscing

bumming (bass-drumming)

meditating

bumming

bumming

walking quack

Roxy the drama car

Oh, hey. I took a hiatus last semester to work on my recital. I'm happy with how that went, and with the fact that I can learn new things, now.

I decided to go up near Lake Wintergreen around sunset yesterday to take some pictures. ... should have walked. It was a blast running up there on Sunday (and yes, I went before the 40 mph winds hit us) and I'd have been better off repeating the experience. That said, yesterday makes an interesting story.

Right, so I decide it's a good time to take some pictures up at the lake. Now the hills around here aren't all that well taken care of the day after a storm, and it definitely means careful driving. The car does make it to the top of wintergreen, though, and I'm a little surprised at how well it does so. Not a bit of slip; it's like watching a slow, inexorable force climb something.

The car's a little older, a '99 Cougar – not something you'd ordinarily take out in the snow, but it's what I've got. The check engine light goes on an off at seemingly random intervals, and in cold weather the battery light turns on because it's tougher on the charging system.

I turn the corner to get to the lake when I notice something curious. Those two indicator lights are now, well, pulsating is a good word for it. They aren't really flashing, exactly, because you can tell they aren't supposed to be. This is about the time I decide to skip the pictures and turn back. So now I'm at the very top of Wintergreen, in a car that's whining about check engine and battery.

That's when the whining stopped and the screaming began.

So, systematically, the check engine, battery, ABS, airbag, traction, brake, traction control button, and a crazy-red-light-I've-never-seen-before come on, most of them wavering somewhere between deciding to be on and deciding to be off. All of the gauges go out. Somehow, the motor's still running. I'm already heading downhill, I just started, and I'm thinking This is not good. This is not good at all. interesting, though...


A couple of seconds later, and I'm wondering why things are so very quiet. It's nice to have a quiet car... oh right, it's because the engine just quit. Well this is also not good a good thing. In fact, I would say this is almost worthy of getting onto my list of bad things to happen in a car on a hill with snow all over it.

Things you need to know when your motor goes: you only have a few applications of power brakes, so use them long and use them wisely. You also don't have power steering, so I hope you've been working out a bit.

Eventually I get to a spot at the bottom of the hill and pull the car into a backroad. A friendly veteran lets me jump the car, which works, kind of. At least, it works for as long as the cables are connected. Being that I am not a fan of attaching cars together or stealing batteries, I decide this isn't about to work. The car starts, runs for about 3 minutes, and then fails... miserably.

My immediate thought is to borrow someone's extra battery, throw it on the passenger seat, and wire it to the main connection under the hood. This is something I think comes from my uncle. I never find anybody with an extra battery though, so here comes the tow truck. Yay.

Just before the truck arrives I figure I'll take the stuff I might need out of the car. I figure what the heck, I'll try to start it. Of course it turns over and works beautifully, enthusiastically...

So, the car that a couple of my friends dubbed Roxy is apparently a bit of a drama queen.

Shades and Tones

Rhythm, vibration, frequency, tone, timbre, shade…


If we had pianos that could play 40 octaves above the ones in our concert halls, where we'd tune to A483785116221440 instead of A440, and that would produce electromagnetic-waves rather than sound-waves, we could play colors. Imagine a MIDI controller that signals a group of LEDs - it's totally workable, but I don't have the programming skills. Anybody want to help build an instrument?


Also - take note of the colors present in different chords.


e.g.,  a major chord, G B D  = RedGreenBlue …
This example, I think, only works for lifeforms with at least three kinds of photoreceptors (trichromats), like us humans. Dogs, for example, are dichromats; sorry dogs.


In music, an octave consists of a low note and a high note (and those encompassed), the higher note being exactly twice the frequency of the lower.


The human ear can detect roughly from 20Hz to 20KHz: about 10 octaves - this varies a bit from person to person, and the upper range diminishes with age.


The human eye detects light roughly in the 384 - 769THz range.


384 * 2 = 768


Isn't it interesting that the human eye can detect approximately one octave of light?
That's funny…

Dear lady I met at the Palestrina Choir concert this evening,

I was waiting in line to buy my ticket for the concert, only about three people away from the purchase when suddenly you approached me and asked if I were waiting for a ticket. I told you that I was and you handed me one that your friend, who didn't make the concert, would have used. I was really surprised, and though I thanked you, I neglected to mention that it was one of those things that could really make a person's day.

Thanks again, ticket-bearing lady!

 - the kid on crutches at Battell Chapel