How To Travel From World-To-World In Song

If you're A instrumentalist you might be asking yourself: "What makes he intend by traveling from 'world-to-world?'" Well that's a good inquiry and I have got a simple reply for that. Let me share with you a recent find I happened upon while banging on the keys (that's "playing the piano" in music-speak) and trying to come up up with a song.

I've gone through 6 old age of formalized Horse Opera Classical music preparation and 4 old age of Ethnomusicology surveys and for whatever reasons, I never picked up a thing about the musical elements of structure, motifs, and kinetics in any piece or composition. If it came to my ain songwriting, I hardly ventured out into a different key and mostly stayed in one, differentiating subdivisions by production or instrumental agreements instead. I mean, in theory I knew about those elements but I hadn't grown into them until very recently.

So as I dabbled on the keys some thoughts here and there to seek and passage from subdivision to subdivision (perhaps with an purpose to get away my ennui of creating songs in a mono-key structure), I accidentally hit a bass short letter that was a relative 4th that did not belong to any of the short letters in the cardinal but was based on one of the octave short letters in that key. For case if I'm playing in the cardinal of Degree Fahrenheit Major (which only have a Type Type B level in that key), but Iodine travel to an Vitamin E level (that makes not be in the cardinal of F) from a B level I had just played, I've successfully transitioned from one key, or world, to another without it sounding weird.

Now I'm not the most savvy when it come ups to explaining music theory (even if it's my ain music), but drama out the bass short letters and you'll hear what I mean. Add some chords to those bass short letters and you'll magnify your range of apprehension by hearing to the full spectrum of the music.

This is a very basic illustration of what I intend by traveling from "world-to-world" but if you seek this, you'll soon derive a whole new experience into music composition as well as simple music appreciation. In essence, you're moving outside of your original key, or outside of your world, by moving into that Vitamin Vitamin E flat, which alterations the sound seamlessly into a new E level Major while giving you the flexibleness to come up back to your original Degree Fahrenheit Major.

Needless to say, this was an ear-opening experience for me and provided me a renewed grasp for past musical greats that didn't have got engineerings like sampling and sound technology to change the timber of their instruments. They worked with what they had. And in a sense I worked backwards by relying on engineerings to construction my sound. Now I've got the greats to stand up on their shoulders to incorporate my hereafter sound fusing my present technological recordings with their past agreement innovation.

The Beatles - Live in Barcelona

"I'm sorry, he's from Barcleona," Basil Fawlty used to say to bemused guests at Fawlty Towers, to explain the erratic performance of his Spanish waiter, Manuel.

In a bizarre reversal, I found myself saying to the street-puppeteer on La Rambla, Barcelona's main tourist thoroughfare; "It's all right, I'm from Liverpool," in an attempt to reassure her as to my qualifications for assisting her with her Beatles puppet show. Obviously, because I am from Liverpool, I am an expert on anything remotely connected with the fab four, even a puppet show, about which I know less than nothing.

What drew my attention in the first place was the pathetic sight of the Beatles reduced to a duo of John and
Ringo only, Paul and George apparently comatose on the stage. Whether this was an attempt to
authentically re-create their early Hamburg performances, where they often performed for hours on end
before collapsing with exhaustion, I do not know, but I suspect it may have had something to do with the
absence of her partner.

Naturally, I could not allow this sorry state of affairs to persist: I immediately offered my services, free of
charge, that the Beatles could perform once more as the fab four we know and love. She was less than
enthusiastic, suspecting (rightly) that I was possibly the worse for drink, and insisted on giving me a lengthy
tutorial on the mechanical workings of the puppets, which not only danced rhythmically to the music, but
were also able to strum their instruments, by means of one half of a pair of scissors which was worked by
the puppeteer's thumb.

When I had mastered this technique to her satisfaction, she fired up the CD player, and The Beatles
demonstrated once again what made them such a great live band. The puppets themselves were
remarkably accurate - John Lennon had a suitably prominent nose, Paul was left-handed and played a
violin-style bass, and they even seemed to move like the real moptops, although Ringo was possibly more
animated than I remember.

Initially, all went well. A small crowd formed, the music blared out of the tinny speakers, the band kicked up
a storm. To increase the authenticity still further, I maneuvered Paul over to George's microphone for the
harmonies - the puppet lady was clearly dismayed by this - with two puppets so close together, a fatal
string entanglement was the only possible outcome. Her eyes flashed at me, and Paul returned to his
rightful position on the edge of the stage. We did one more song together, but she made it clear that
enough was enough. I was asked to leave the group. Now I know how Pete Best felt.