DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

Most musicians will tell you there are good days for tracking and bad days for tracking. I remember, back in 1994 or so when JAR was in the studio, one of the engineers made a passing comment about “one-take Jake,” the mythical musician who could nail his part on the first pass, with all the energy, magic, and spontaneity that that implies. The concept became a sort of grail, although I’m not sure any of us achieved it. I remember starting one song three times; I couldn’t even nail the first downbeat.

Digital recording has done for music what digital cameras have done for photographers; tape, like film, is free. So the material cost of doing 30 takes is a lot lower, and even if the time consumed is just as long, at least we’re not paying $100/hr.

But still, if you play something 30 times in a row, you won’t want to hear it again. Ever. Nothing robs a melody of its subtlety and passion like playing it badly a bunch of times in a row.

I was thinking about this the other day, at about take #12. My main musical collaborator, Andrew the six-fingered bassist, had pitched me a song we’d recorded rhythm tracks for in 2000. He’d ordered a dulcimer line, momentarily mistaking me for a composer. Despite my relative inexperience, though, I came up with a cool line for the verse. Andrew liked it. I liked it. The only problem was I couldn’t actually play it.

It was a 16th-note pattern that required crossing one hand under the other to hit the low A, blind, about a foot away from the rest of the melody. My success rate was about 50%. The strings on this dulcimer are less than an inch apart; even the pros have to watch their hands.

This provided little consolation, though. I gave up for the day before deciding that the best way to cope with my progress would be by putting a foot through the dulcimer’s soundboard.

The ultimate solution came in two parts. First I swapped right for left, relearning the pattern with opposite hands. Next I realized that the top half of the melody could be played lower on the instrument, physically closer to that hard-to-reach A. With that, and a night off, I was able to track the final version quickly:

Domino, final dulcimer take (verse 2, prechorus, verse 3, prechorus) (Copyright © 2005 matthew mcglynn)