Session Leopard

http://www.sessionleopard.com/the-session-leopard-blog/

2010-03-12T23:53:00.001Z

Just in case anyone missed it - i did move from here some time ago. If you haven't visited my new website -----> come along!!

http://www.sessionleopard.com/the-session-leopard-blog/

MOVING HOUSE!

2009-10-30T03:50:00.003Z

No, not really moving house - although, with a bit of luck, I should be residing by the seaside before Christ's birthday.

But I am moving blog. I am adamant to continue it, but it makes sense for it to be part of my new website / online showreel.

So please keep browsing at my words and I shall get round to adding you, the interesting folk I spy on, on my blogroll.

Here's the new new address, forward all post here:

http://www.sessionleopard.com/the-session-leopard-blog/

Only a pawn in the game

2009-10-22T18:14:00.002+01:00

It would probably be wrong to let this Thursday pass without adding some more words to the Nick Griffin / Question Time train of thought.

I was gently amused by the many "because of's" Newsnight's panelists offered last night, all trying to shed some light on some one million people voting for the BNP. Race, class, jobs, history, immigration, education... the list was endless to the point of pointless.

So, I'm not going to throw any more half-baked ideas out into the interland, even though I have plenty. Instead, meditate to Bob Dylan's frankly glorious story of a murder with a racial twist in the deep south, and the ensuing mist of politik. For some reason it seems strangely relevant.

For the record, of course Mr Griffin should be on Question Time. My panel of choice would be The A-Team.

You're just like Weather

2009-10-20T15:02:00.003+01:00

Advert failure - no thousands of corporate pounds for me. But music video success - watch my music video for Richard Walters' delightful 'Weather Song'.

Ending monday on a happy note

2009-10-19T21:25:00.003+01:00

No internet at home, lost in a spaghetti of loose ends, washing up to do, short on cash, dreaming of long steak dinners and windy cliff walks, wishing for a proper sleep this week.

But all is forgotten when I watch the Rock-afire Explosion perform Usher's forthright Ar 'n' Bee smash Love In This Club, the musical equivalent of 'fancy a shag in the lav darling?'

Virgin Must Die

2009-10-19T12:11:00.003+01:00

No, the title is not a last minute dash to fundamentalist paganism so all my little dreams will come true. It is directed at the slapdash broadband provider Virgin Media for two weeks sans interland.

This week part one: Manic pitching for a mobile phone advert. I'm still in the game after almost a week of back and forth but, after a long track record of near-misses, I'm not getting any hopes up. This has been made a little more interesting by the lack of internet - the 'dash to the cinema cafe' is now a possible inclusion in the modern decathlon - a mixture of running, avoiding ordering coffee and uploading a section of zip files with optimum rapidity.

This week part two: Making a music video for my friend Richard Walters. Black and white, lo-fi, first year art school fayre. It is an enjoyable ode to clear autumn days, Greenwich and lens flare. I'll post it up here sometimes soon.

Annoyingly, I must take the dash again to fetch my power supply. Joy.

Lo-Fi Wi-Fi Bye-Bye

2009-10-15T20:43:00.003+01:00

Hello all

I truly am being tested by technology. Virgin Media have decided to pull the aging the carpet of broadband from under my toes. It shall be fixed in a week, perhaps. Until then, trips to my local cinema for coffee and internet are getting more and more frequent.

I've been in the middle of an advert pitch that is not going well, due to the ever-changing moods of ad-men.

Must dash, files to send, fish fingers to eat. Glam-err-us.

Les Ambassdeurs reception, minus the Ferrero Roche

2009-10-11T21:59:00.011+01:00

Bonjour / Bon soir tout le monde! Ça va?

French is surprisingly difficult. All englishman have access to a 'hilarious' french accent on demand, and therefore it's very tempting to think that sounding french is half the battle won, and you are somehow mere moments away from turning multilingual. Alas, this is not the case.
It's been an action-packed, baguette-filled, suspender-belted mid-week. For those that don't know. I work fairly regularly with a French band named Playground. I say band, it now consists only of its front man; the half-Iranian, half-Swedish, French-raised Firouz FarmanFarmian. The 'band' is signed to Zadig & Voltaire Music, a musical branch of the french fashion house. It has a store in Notting Hill and you'd be hard pushed to buy a scarf for under £100.

This week saw the band's first 'gig' in its new electro-rock style, playing tracks from the new album Nightology at the 'Ambassador's Academy of Paris' yearly party. This party is organised by the Larry Flint of france, Mark Dorcel, who was celebrating 30 years of his pornographic empire with a 'spring break' style high school bonanza. Cue 2,500 people dressed as naughty school girls, a steady flow of french porn stars and just general mayhem.

I was in charge of preparing the album material for the live show, and I played with the band as chief knob twiddler and press-play merchant alongside the beautiful Damien, a guitarist/part-time model from Brittany. This was after a 7.30am photoshoot on the roof of a building behind the Pompidou centre, dressed head to toe in Z&V attire. Find a sneak preview on my facebook page here.

All very glamourous... save for a lot of sleeping on couches and a gig marred by technical issues, performed from a DJ booth. My computer, that had not crashed once in all my preparation, 5 hours of rehearsal and a sound-check of 3 songs, decided to crash in the first number. My nimble fingers glossed over it, but after a much more serious crash in the second, I had to call on my itunes backup plan which I'd luckily sorted out the night before. It was a disaster, albeit one with a very impressive emergency service response time.

The band, after finishing two songs early due to some underhand DJ pulling our faders down, disbanded into the crowd of tartan skirt and silicon feeling dejected. As pretty much the sole englishman, a taken man of 7 years feeling a little embarrassed by the performance debacle, I went on my merry way. I felt the spirit of Russell Brand frown as I left the chateau full of brazen filth, but I stand by my choice.

I did however have sweet hormones of relief swirling my brain box and made some lovely turkish and scottish acquaintances on the metro, dazzling them with the €1200 cost of my outfit and playing the english card with carelessness. Good times.
Returning home was nice. A job done, a few green notes in my wallet and some free clothes. I celebrated with some Snooker coverage and This Is England. Pretty flawless film making.

That's enough for now. Expect slightly more boring tales soon. x

Don't fall at the first hurdle

2009-10-07T01:51:00.004+01:00

Now, I had a real plan to gently ease myself into a two blogs-a-week steady flow of words. Why must I be tested so early?

Ladies and gents, it is 1.50am and I have under 5 hours sleeping time remaining until I travel to Paris for a gig surrounded by the french porn industry and, ironically, some free clothes.

I return on Saturday, in who knows what state. For now, enjoy this. You've probably all seen it, but ponder a little on the score.

Beautiful, exotic and slightly frightening.

Back In Leopard Print

2009-10-04T11:12:00.004+01:00

OK... a recap/explanation:

A long long time ago, in a bedroom some miles from the dusty university of Oxford, I worked two or three shifts a week on a shop counter to afford a personal computer. This action catapulted me into two realms: the realm of computer-based music production, and the realm of endless time-wasting that is the World Wide Web.

After the years passed and various blogs came and went, I decided to start three to satisfy the different aspects of my character. I was unfortunately too myopic to note that as soon as life became busy, the three portals of my frontal lobes would grind to a stuttering halt. And, if you do not write blogs when you are busy, you never write anything interesting.

So... a new dawn. Much like the old new dawns, except this time this blog shall be my one and only. Mostly about music of course, but if I feel like an essay or a poem or any other kind of virtual self-massage, it shall be here.

It has been a shame to lose track of this blog over the last few months as it has been a busy and productive one in the Session Leopard camp. This new dawn though sees me approaching a week that should culminate in Playground's first gig in Paris, with me twiddling knobs on stage, praying the Mac does not crash. More on this later in the week.

For now, a song of my last few months. On a recent advert pitch, I was asked to do something similar to this track by David Byrne and Brian Eno. Compared to most new music, this stands as something much more stately and adult, but yet it remains funky and without the pretension you often find in work by 'mature' artists. Listen and learn.

n.b - I was quite amused after listening through this version that someone had added in a quote from Brian Eno in the instrumental where he talks about being interested in the religious idea of surrender, despite himself being a strong atheist. I had no knowledge that this was there, but was gently tickled by the fact that 1 - Anyone who properly knows me knows I actively pursue interest in the subject, and 2 - This track was brought to my attention by a guy who I once enjoyed a fairly heated debate with on the subject of religion. He is an atheist, and now a good friend.

I had no idea this track, or this album, had a spiritual subtext. Reading these short pieces by both Byrne and Eno makes everything clear: http://www.davidbyrne.com/music/cds/everything_that_happens/index.php

There is nothing like an atheist tangling with his love of gospel music to warm the heart. :)

Africa comes to Greenwich

2009-01-13T00:15:00.005Z

A happy week. A full one, which usually means all's well. My plan was to clear the decks and load the cupboards and start as I mean to go on. So far, so good - I'm just about keeping up with my blogs, I've managed to free up some hard drive space, I am racing with possible SL tunes. 'Hi-Fives' and mashed potato all round.

My favourite ball of scruff returned from Africa a few hours early this week and so I saw her before work, which was a lovely surprise. I am complete again! For this reason, Africa (well, East Africa) is currently the theme of the house. Spices from Zanzibar are laying in the kitchen, there are a selection of Kangas in our room and there is plenty of African music on the stereo.

African music is a vast subject which I know too little about, but what I do know, I like very much. I'm especially partial to Zimbabwean popular music and its catchy guitar melodies. These simple melodies are cast over surprisingly complicated grooves, and it makes beautiful aural jewelry.

Like many forms of African music, it seems so happy with its lot; it does not reach out to beg, and it rarely has a message of anger or quarrel. If it does, it is lyrically delivered against uplifting, 'smiling' music. It seems the musicians will not let their produce be tarnished with negativity! This clip of various tracks/music videos by Oliver Mtukudzi has a wonderfully sweet quality, set against a Zimbabwe we all hope breaks free from tyrany as soon as possible:

But, let us not forget I am writing this from Greenwich. In honest truth, I've been writing this blog to the cockney-groove of Chas 'n' Dave.

Variety is the spice of life, available from both Tottenham and Zanzibar.

New Toys Part 1

2009-01-05T23:51:00.003Z

New year, new science, new experiments, new toys.

Look what's getting sent to me from Holland: (Yesch! Holland! Care for a Schmoke-anna-Pancake?!)

Yesch! It's a lovely reel-to-reel recorder from the groovy 70's! If any of you want to record some one-take nonsense, I have the perfect device for you. Come and feel the warmth of my analogue bed. It will probably distort and bend and wobble and break, but that is what it's there for. No matter what rubbish I write, if I record it to tape it will always be cool - like flares, free-love and flying ducks on the wall.

I also fancy playing about with some cassette based nonsense, so I've bought this beautiful piece as well...

Is it not a beauty? Two track glory awaits. Session Leopard may be having a cassette only release...

Who's as fast as Buckethead?

2009-01-01T19:33:00.007Z

Firstly, happy new year to you. May 2009 treat you with respect. Secondly, following up from my last post, I'd like to re-affirm to myself that complicated music isn't necessarily great, or the kind of music I should be making. The initial response of watching someone who is bloody good at something is merry wonderment; a wonderment that very quickly diminishes should there be no musical meat amongst all the frilly vegetation. Virtuosos also have little choice but to be endlessly compared to others in technique, speed and originality. There is almost no point even daring to make music (or become a musician) of widdly-diddly-ness unless you are quite aware of the benchmark. If you are not aware, plenty of rude 15 year olds will let you know. They can be so mean.

I'm not sure when I realised I could never be a guitarist of real skill. I think it was a fair few years ago. This clip of a young Buckethead has certainly cemented the matter...

(This is ridiculous, especially at around 1'00:)

Pretty unplayable. Pretty unlistenable. The KFC bucket on the head doesn't seem so strange now.

My own challenge will have to be to make music to express myself, not impress myself or others. This is a different skill altogether. I'll leave the fast weird stuff to the pros for now thank you very much.

My New Sound (for a new year)

2008-12-29T20:43:00.001Z

'Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.'

This beautiful quote (now unfortunately on the brink of cliché) is particularly suitable for musicians.

Great, moving music doesn't need to be complicated, whether it be in a popular idiom or an orchestral one. It is the great paradox that the 4-5 chords of Mr Tambourine Man can, arguably, be of equal artistic importance as the dense structures of a Beethoven sonata. None of us, therefore, can hide behind a lack of schooling if we want to make music. What is needed, above all else, is commitment.

It is time to stop hiding and commit to an idea and to not hide in changing taste or worried styles. This year I will be chasing a sound to call mine, and this sound will be a mixture of deep dub grooves and instrumental beauty. Synthesizers will mix with chimes, glockenspiels and delays laid upon raw and minimal drums and bass. I'm really looking forward to finally having an idea to chase and a set of boundaries to stage my new musical show. Whether this will finally give me an identifiable sound, I do not know. Hopefully I should know by April!

Here's some influences:

Nile Rodgers - All In Your Hands

Nile is king. This track showcases simple refined melody over a crunching beat that nails it all to the dancefloor. I love his sense of space, giving the guitar and voice so much room to play in. Heavily processed backing vocals also make me happy. :)

Arvo Part - Agnus Dei

Do not fear the religious nature of this. Whatever spirit it is written in, it is breathtaking.

Wayne Smith - Under Me Sleng Teng

The original digital reggae groove. Some people can look at a 12-bar boogie and constantly find something new; I feel the same about reggae beats.

***

Like a choir singer, it's time to commit to a melody and form the notes properly with the whole of my mouth, face and heart, and to not be afraid of looking a fool. Our deepest fear is that we know we are powerful beyond measure, if only we could let go of our embarrassment and our ego.

I Hung My Head

2008-12-23T15:42:00.001Z

Not being a huge Sting fan, I have not long known that 'I Hung My Head' was one of his. The Johnny Cash take on this is amongst my favourite ever recordings. Cash had that knack of stealing a song, breaking it down to its barest bones and finding what it's made of, his voice being the purest barometer of what is really there.

Sting is a very different musician. He's a polymathic entity, easily mocked by envious critics, but it is a fool who underestimates his talents. The original version's verse has a beautiful intricacyt with melancholy forged into its arpeggios, but he cannot resist quoting Van Morrison and big band RnB in his chorus, as if he is mocking the murderer he is voicing and making strange lightness of it all.

Cash took this and, to the cynical ear, did what he always did. Everything was stripped back, simplified and he gave a one take vocal of near-spoken verse.

But that voice. There is something in there no producer or plug-in or arrangement can add: honesty. Nothing is conceited or crafted, it is bare and parched, dry and deep. It is thirsty to sing. I advise anyone to try and stand in front of a recording machine and then simply sing something, anything, straight from your gut and with pure honesty. It is near impossible.

Cash uncovered the very root of what Sting had entangled in his different strain of mastery. What he found was so good, it could be made to sound without time or style, like a forever written story. Therefore I must afford Sting a real round of applause. However, it is a real shame that should I ever write a decent song in my life, there will be no Johnny Cash to devour it.

The nature of the beast

2008-12-20T02:20:00.000Z

As the year closes behind a feast of tracks, demos, remixes, possibilities but no real breakthrough; I'd like to reflect on the magical nature of the popular music beast:

Here's one of my favourite youtube clips. My Rhymes enjoys a few production gags before accidently finding a sample that starts a track. You see the exact moment of conception at 1.47, the sample plays for a second then Busta pulls a face of purest glee - as if he's just opened the Ark of the Covenant and found a vintage Playboy in there.

These moments are what music is all about. You may know all the chords, or have all the samples, but it is still always about finding the right thing at the right time, and for there to be that chain reaction. From then you simply concentrate and focus on that little pinch of magic you felt before it disappears. And if you do capture it properly, you have it bottled for life.

This clip also presents a problem. Timbaland has probably every kick and snare drum, and every thinkable instrument, multi-sampled across many keyboards - his creative process is the mixture of these fantastically well-recorded sounds with his own brand of refined RnB groove (the most popular groove of our time). Part of me wants to make records like Timbaland. My dilemma has always been that this creative set-up rarely lets me feel the inspiration that's needed to truly cultivate an idea. I know that the careful selection of the best sounding 'sounds' will make the best sounding record, but too rarely does this supply me with that much needed magic dust. Without this magic in your veins, it is difficult to account for the following 100,000+ playbacks of a snare drum that you must endure as you build a track to completion.

So instead I follow my own ideas through average digital synths and mediocre drum sounds, concentrating always on the music first - its pattern, harmonies, colours - and hoping to make it sound 'hotter' as I mix. Valiant though this may be, my ears are now tuned enough to know when a track simply isn't 'hot' enough. Which is most of the time; it is incredibly difficult to make average sounds into incredible ones.

Next year I should spend a bit more time listening through samples, and hope that I feel a touch of magic, like Busta did, along the way.

Session Leopard