There are two possible outcomes when asking someone to pay you what you're worth:
You gain a collaborator who’s eager to invest in you.
You get rejected by someone who isn't ready to invest in you at this moment.
Both outcomes are wins.
Reading Notes
7-9 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
Patience in commitment; The "Tepid Yes" concept; A framework for categorizing commitment levels
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When you make a purchase through links found on this site, we may earn commissions from Amazon, Perfect Circuit, and other retailers.
After the success of Titanic, director James Cameron waited years for the right technology to develop so that he could create Avatar. He believed in the idea but didn’t commit to it immediately. He was unconvinced that the visual effects industry could bring his vision to the big screen. Instead, he bided his time, focused on the story, and patiently watched as 3D filmmaking and motion capture advanced enough to realize his vision fully. When the time was right, he pounced.
Cameron's commitment to ensuring that every aspect of Avatar was worthy of the time and resources invested into it paid off. The film became one of the highest-grossing of all time and received critical acclaim for its innovative visual effects.
This story reminds me that it’s okay to be patient. It reminds me that I can wait on an idea until it's time has come. It reminds me that I can have many ideas simmering in the background. We don’t need to commit to everything right away, as James Cameron did with Avatar.
The challenge is knowing which commitments deserve our full attention. Truly, we could all do ourselves a huge solid by being more thoughtful about not only what we say yes to, but also how much to commit to them. Instead of charging forth, giving our full, undivided, honor-is-on-the-line commitment to everything we've said yes to, why not give most of them a tepid-yes and let them simmer?
Most options out there don’t deserve any commitment whatsoever. I believe that 99% of the options that get presented to me are pretty trashy. But when I do find an idea, project, or option that resonates deeply, I don’t have to go all in, right from the start. It’s better to match the commitment to the project’s actual importance, at any one time. It's better to remain flexible and assess how much energy a project truly needs before blindly jumping in, thus expending our time and energy wastefully.
Examples Proving When A Tepid Yes Works In Your Favor
There are tons of examples of well-known companies giving a casual, tepid yes to projects, simply to see if they are worth a more hard-core yes later on. Google is a great role model in this respect. They only invest fully when an idea proves itself in their labs. Google Calendar started as a small project. After a tepid yes, Google escalated their commitment to the project as its potential became clear. The rest is history.
I appreciate the "tepid yes" because it allows me to explore without feeling trapped. This way, I avoid the sunk cost fallacy and can step back if something no longer serves me. Amazon did this with its Fire tablet. The product failed, but Amazon didn’t cling to it. They committed just enough to gauge its success and pulled the plug when it was clear it wouldn’t work.
Rating The Level of Commitment
Some commitments are minimal, like deciding whether or not to grab a cheap salad for lunch. I consider these level one commitments. They are many in number and have the smallest amount of trade-off if you don't do them. Changing one's mind is easy with level-one commitments.
Level five commitments are significant, like marriage, raising children, or a deep commitment to a chosen profession. They are few in number but of outsized importance. They are so intregal to our lives that not honoring them is both unthinkable and painful.
As I mentioned, level one commitments are largest in quantity but smallest in importance. Level five commitments are smallest in quantity but largest in importance.
This undeniably simple graphic (created by the office intern who is a juvenile graphic designer-wannabe, who has a poster of Jan Tschichold in his bedroom, who is a gushing fanboy of Edward Tufte, whose Mom is super proud of his work) shows it best:
A ridiculously stupid-looking graphic that gets the point across… I can only fucking hope.
The Downsides of Misjudging Commitment Levels
Misjudging your level of commitment can lead to several nasty problems. A lack of critical thinking can develop into a habit if we don’t fully consider what we say yes to. That's dangerous! Overcommitting forces you, out of the necessity of saving time, to look past the details. There's a reason why the saying "the devil's in the details" is a cliche.
Burnout is another risk. Committing too quickly or too deeply will drain us, especially if a project demands more time and energy than we expected.
Let's not forget about the dangers of unrealistic expectations, inflexibility, and the pressure we place on others to capitulate to what we committed to. Further, think of all the great opportunities you'd forgo if you just committed to a whole mess of really crappy ideas. Yuck.
A Framework for Judging The Scale of Commitment
To avoid overcommitting, it helps to write down what we’ve said yes to and evaluate it soberly.
Start by writing down your commitment on a piece of paper or text file. Then, rate your answers to these questions on a scale of 1 to 5:
How worthy is this person/path/idea/option of your full commitment?
How good do you feel when you fully commit?
How unthinkable is it to abandon this commitment?
How aware are you of the trade-offs and benefits of staying committed?
How dire are the consequences of stepping back from your commitment?
The higher the average number, the higher the commitment level you need to give to it.
In Conclusion
Overall, it's best to relish saying no, way before you even get committed in the first place. As I mentioned, most of all the options out there are super trashy and trivial. But when you do say yes, it doesn’t have to be an all-or-nothing declaration. It can be a lukewarm, tepid yes. It can be a "let’s see if this works" kind of yes. It can be a "you’ve got 30 days to prove yourself" kind of yes. It can be a "perhaps, buddy. Perhaps." It can be a long, molasses-slow "maybe."
Opt for the tepid yes, especially when the big commitments (like kids, marriage, family, and our professional aspirations) deserve most of our energy and commitment.
Reading Notes
9-11 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
Sunk-Cost Bias in rock and roll; The Rise and fall of Sprightly Moans; How to determine if you have a sunk-cost bias
Affiliate Note
When you make a purchase through links found on this site, we may earn commissions from Amazon, Perfect Circuit, and other retailers.
Though I hate to admit it, so many of my old dreams of becoming a rock and roll star were probably derailed out of a lack of awareness of a sunk-cost bias. Sunk-cost bias is the tendency to keep on committing to a path based on prior investments, rather than future benefits. Sprightly Moans was one of these casulties.
Sprightly Moans was a band I put together in 2012. It was a guitar and drum duo. Both of us played significantly loud. To new listeners, I often described our music as if The White Stripes, Lightning Bolt, and Jimi Hendrix got into a gigantic knife fight and it didn't end well.
Our music set astonishingly nihilistic lyrics against a bluesy, bit-crunched, distorted guitar. The drummer would play in a blistering blur around the rhythms I threw down. I sang loudly and with a great deal of force. It was a lot of fun!
Sprightly Moans got to the point where we wanted to make a serious go of it. I thought we had great potential to actually make it in the hyper-competitive rock scene in Austin as well as the United States. I began to get our image straight. First, I got my Fender Telecaster re-done with an all white, nitro finish. It looked awesome and it sounded great:
I decided to give an old drumset a monumental makeover. I stripped it of it's cover, sanded it, repainted it, recoated it, put clear drum heads on it, and all of a sudden I had this sharp-looking drumset. It helped that it sounded tremendous!
We got professional promo photos done with a great photographer, Juan Gonzalez of Lime Fly Photography:
We shot a video I'm still proud of:
And then, after all of this progress, the drummer and I parted ways. It knocked the wind right out of me. After the shock wore off, my next thought was how I was going to recoup all the money, time, effort, love, and the many hours of dreaming I put into the project. Obviously, I needed a drummer! I was already so far ahead... how hard could it be to find a drummer?
I printed posters, I posted ads, I asked friends. I auditioned five different drummers. No one really fit… One of them made fun of me, right to my face. Ouch.
Something started to feel a bit off...
Operating from a place where I wanted to recover all the resources that I put into this band ruined the fun of it. And that’s a shitty place to be at. I was trying to capture that feeling again, and it was disappearing quickly. I didn't feel right slogging it out on a project that seemed to no longer have the magic it once had. I acted out of desperation. I doggedly kept pushing forward. I still expected a return.
Eventually, after two years of nursing the dream of getting the band up and running again, I gave up the ghost on Sprightly Moans. In a deep way, I felt relieved. Sprightly Moans was no more, and I accepted that I would not be a rock and roll star after all. Sure, that hurt a little. Growing hurts sometimes. But it was healthy.
After I let it go and I properly grieved, I finally felt ready to tackle the next thing. It wasn't long after that I met Madison Bounds and started collaborating with him on his film Crisp Lips, my first film score. I had such a fun time doing it! The magic returned! I was creating music in that flow-state of musical fun.
Creative Sunk-Cost Bias
My unwillingness to let go of Sprightly Moans and my dogged persistence to reclaim the investment is a perfect example of the sunk cost bias. I was more motivated to make good on all the effort I put into that band (the mini albums, the promo photos, the music video, the time I spent making albums our of paper, and the nursing of my dreams) than I was playing the music and trusting the magic of it. I was more interested in getting a return on the money I spent on the video than I was just having fun and going with the results.
In other words, I was stuck in the past rather than finding a way to be creative.
Sunk cost bias becomes a huge hassle if we're not careful. Without knowing it, we can get pulled into a commitment and stay there even if we're totally unhappy about it. Often, I don't think we're even aware of this bias! And if we are blind to sunk-cost bias, we are similarly blind to newer opportunities, less aware of present realities, and unflexible to take advantage of a good cultural moment.
I know now that if I had given up on Sprightly Moans within a half a year (not the two years it actually took) that I would have had a massive head start on composing music for film.
Determining Sunk-Cost Bias
What can we do to guard ourselves from sunk cost bias? If you suspect it in one of your creative prospects or business doings, or if you're just plain curious, ask these questions of yourself:
How worthy is this person/path/option of my commitment? Time? Energy? Money? Other resources altogether?
Is there a better-sized commitment for this that's more appropriate and respectful of my resources? Time? Energy?
Have I become blind to how shitty it really feels being committed to this?
Do I feel a sense of being locked into this commitment?
Is there an exit strategy with this commitment?
If I weren't already invested in this commitment, how much would I invest right now?
If I didn't already have this commitment in my life right now, how much would I work my ass off to get it? How much would I pay for it?
What opportunities are getting lost as a result of me commiting to this?
What else can I do with my time if I pulled the plug on this commitment?
What else can I do with my money if I pulled the plug on this commitment?
What else could I do with my energy if I pulled the plug on this commitment?
Would I be more effective in reaching my ultimate goals if I pulled the plug?
Are past investments in this option getting heavily weighted over future rewards?
Are there any patterns with this commitment that are similar where past costs were prioritized over potential future gains?
Call up a friend who will tell you the truth, no matter what. Explain the situation. Ask this person: "Am I prioritizing the previous investments more than I am prioritizing what I could get from it?"
Are there any strong emotional reactions when I consider uncommiting to this? Name them if so. The more there are, the more likely sunk cost bias is in play.
Is it time to implement a "kill criteria"? Meaning, a criteria for discontinuing projects that are not meeting expectations, regardless of past investments.
We don’t need to suffer to create art. Seriously.
I think suffering from sunk-cost bias totally roots us in the past in an unhealthy way. It doesn't feel good being tied to a creative commitment that doesn't quite do it for us anymore. In my case, it felt awful trying so hard to revive Sprightly Moans. I hoped to make that my main breadwinner. I was a little too obsessed with making my money back, with making it in the rock scene altogether. The fun disappeared.
Once I finally let it go, I felt tremendously good about what we did. Looking back made me smile, and blush a little bit too. I began to enjoy those things I invested in as loving artifacts of that period of my life. The drum set, the Telecaster, the photos, the albums, and the video.
As I mentioned before, hindsight is 20/20. Better to look back soberly at these older projects and reinterpret them as these awesome things we did. Better to marvel at the things we accomplished while we were truly in the moment, and then find a new thing that suits us even better, now.
This post was inspired and influenced by Essentialism by Greg McKeown. I totally recommend it.
Reading Notes
1 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
A conversation between Kurt Vonnegut and Joseph Heller; More vs enough.
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When you make a purchase through links found on this site, we may earn commissions from Amazon, Perfect Circuit, and other retailers.
The well-known American authors Kurt Vonnegut and Joseph Heller once had a remarkable conversation about money. It encapsulated how Americans value growth to the point of idolizing it.
Here’s the story:
Vonnegut and Heller were at a party hosted by a billionaire. When Kurt Vonnegut discovered how much money the billionaire raked in the previous day, he couldn’t resist needling Heller.
Vonnegut peppered Heller with this question: “How does it make you feel to know that our host only yesterday may have made more money than your novel Catch-22 has earned in its entire history?”
Heller smiled and said, "I've got something he can never have."
Kurt Vonnegut was intrigued. “What on earth can that be, Joe?”
Heller responded, "The knowledge that I've got enough."
I’ve heard this story many times, in many forms. I love it. I appreciate the economy and authority of Heller’s reply. His contentment with his own financial situation was clear, and his response also served as a subtle critique of a culture that often equates self-worth with financial success.
Heller’s response also shows how we might be doing ourselves a great disservice by chasing more money at the expense of our time. Don’t get me wrong. We all need money to survive. But there comes a point where we can go too far, where we would willingly trade away the finite resource of time in the relentless pursuit of more and more money that we might not actually need. We don’t have a lot of time in our short lives. It’s important to use it wisely.
Hats off to you Joseph Heller. Thank you for reminding me (us?) of a balanced, kind, and self-compassionate word… A word that brings the importance of conserving our limited time back into sharp focus:
“Enough.”
Reading Notes
7-9 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
Balancing flexibility and structure in work; Time management in the creative realm; Designing a life with both creativity and engagement with the world.
Affiliate Note
When you make a purchase through links found on this site, we may earn commissions from Amazon, Perfect Circuit, and other retailers.
I originally wanted to teach guitar for a silly reason: I wanted to have a job in-between touring stadiums. I know... reach for the stars, right?
In my mind, I didn't want to be out of a job during the months I wasn't rocking the free world. Thankfully, after my dream of being a rock star died, I learned that teaching offered me a chance to dig into my own happiness in a much deeper way. That, and it made my life a whole lot more fun.
For starters, teaching privately meant that I could teach anytime of the day. When I first began building my teaching practice, I was strict with having a 9-5 schedule. I soon wised up that I could restructure my hours to avoid rush-hour traffic (totally amazing in a city like Austin).
About two years into teaching, my Dad mentioned that if I charged more, I could work fewer hours and the clients would get better. I honestly thought he was full of shit at first. Have you ever heard saying “The older you get, the smarter your father gets?” Of course, Dad was right. I charged more, I worked fewer hours, and the students got way more dedicated. With these changes, I felt like I was getting away with murder in my work-life.
The importance of scheduling out creative time
I had an epiphany after I made a greater number of adjustments like these to my work life: If I can structure my teaching schedule so elegantly, how do I wish to structure my off-hours? How do I wish to structure my time away from teaching to be the most creatively fulfilling? Of course I wanted to create new music, but I found myself stymied by the luxury of having too much unstructure time. It's like Twyla Tharp says in her book The Creative Habit: If you want to ruin creativity, throw as many resources at it as possible.
At that time, I had another massive luxury of a separate office where I taught and recorded music. I wanted work to be totally seperate from my home life. The trouble was that all of my recording equipment was at the office. If I wanted to create music, I had to drive there. Going to that office to "be creative" didn't quite work for me.
I silently chastised myself about this for years. Then, the pandemic happened. Yeah... the separate office had to go. There was no was I was going to pay two rents during one of the worst economic periods of my adult life. I moved all my teaching and recording equipment to a spare room in my house. I had to make it work, somehow.
After some tweaking of the acoustics and adjusting to the idea that students will come to my home, my office began to feel super comfortable. But even after I settled into the new situation, I still felt like I wasn't structuring my creative time as best as I could. I had this annoying suspicion that I could have finished off a bunch of old projects earlier if I were a bit more ruthless with my schedule. After reading Deep Work by Cal Newport, I knew I finally had the answer.
Cal Newport teaches at Georgetown University and is a well-known author who has long offered excellent advice on creative productivity (in other words, how to get our most interesting work done without giving up on our responsibilities in the world). He has long advocated for doing what is most effective in one's life to reach the goals we dream of reaching. In Deep Work, he presents a very compelling case to schedule uninterrupted time to focus on the things most important to us. In his view, the idea of deep work comes to life when we schedule out the time to work, engage, struggle with, and solve hard problems that we want to solve, and without any interruptions.
The AM/PM Creative Routine
Reading Newport's Deep Work inspired me to structure my time outside of teaching. And what came out of it? I call it the AM/PM creative routine. Here it is:
The AM part of the equation is this: I wake up at 5:30 AM. The silence in my neighborhood encourages me to be super creative. I quiet my phone. I refuse to check email. I practice music. I work on finishing albums. I focus on creative projects that I intend to finish.
Once 12 PM hits, I shift. I begin to see the world beyond my head, engage with the people in it, and be completely present in my interactions. I shift to the PM part of my day. That’s why I teach in the afternoons and evenings. I ended up choosing Sundays through Wednesdays, from 2 PM to about 8PM to teach. During this time, I am totally present to the outside world.
In short, the AM/PM creative routine (for me) looks like this: 5:30 AM to 12PM: Create excessively. 2PM to 8PM get my extrovert on. It works for me.
Making your own version of the AM/PM Creative Routine
If you've made it this far in this article, then congrats! Here's where this'll get really applicable, for you. Let's go over how you can make your own version of an AM/PM creative routine. First, you need to ask yourself one simple question:
When am I most creative?
Why start with the creativity, rather than the work-life? I’m assuming you don’t want to have a job forever, right?!? It’s my strong belief that we need to give priority to our most creative moments on our schedules.
If you know when you are most creative, put that time on your calendar. Schedule it out. Block it off. Do not let anything get scheduled during that creative time. It's not time to check email or get engaged with sending messages. It's sure as hell not time to answer to a boss's silly needs. That's your scheduled time to just create. Guard it with your life.
Once you've given that creative time the priority it deserves and scheduled in on your calendar, the next step is to schedule your work-life around it.
If you're annoyed with that last sentence I wrote, I don't blame you. Everyone's situation is different. I recognize that. Keep in mind that that no work situation is final. You are not stuck forever, in exactly the same circumstance and exactly the same job. Chances are good you have far more flexibility to schedule around your creative times than you think you do.
A close friend of mine, an unbelievably creative man, works in the IT department of a major university. He was taken aback by how easy it was to get his employers to accept his proposal to work from home. Now, without a daily two-hour commute, he has far more room to schedule out his many creative pursuits. He has more balance. You probably have more flexibility than you think you do with the "PM" part of the equation. Just tease it out. The solution will come.
Wrapping Up…
There are times for myopic creative exploration. These times need to be spoken for on our schedule and deeply protected. Similarly, there are times for engagement with the forces of the world... times for extroversion and presence with our families, friends, and professional colleagues. That also needs a little bit of structure, too.
I need a well-maintained balance between both mindsets to get to where I'm going (aka, the toppermost of the poppermost, as John Lennon mentioned before the Beatles got to be huge). Clearly, it's my strong belief that the introverted creative exploration and the external engagement with the world need balance for me to have any chance of happiness and success. It’s what I value.
If you value that balance too, then be sure to schedule time to create as well as when to engage with the outside world.
Reading Notes
11-14 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
A humiliating first music theory moment; An effective learning strategy and plan for learning music theory from scratch.
Affiliate Note
When you make a purchase through links found on this site, we may earn commissions from Amazon, Perfect Circuit, and other retailers.
I promise you I will share the optimal way I’d learn music theory, if I were starting from scratch. Before I get there, I want to share a story where I got destroyed by not knowing it. Like, the carpet was totally and completely yanked out from underneath me. It makes me chuckle to think about it, to this day.
Getting Destroyed By Music Theory, Story #1 (of Thousands)
I didn’t take guitar lessons in high school, but I didn’t mind. I was having a blast learning to play music on my own. I’d find a random guitar tab, learn it, and move on to the next one. If I liked a song that didn't have a tablature online, I’d just jump in and transcribe it. I played guitar for at least two to three hours every day after school.
I learned guitar by ear, with a will to get better and better and better (I compared myself to an ideal, back then). I didn’t know music theory, but that didn't stop me. Learning on my own meant I didn’t have access to a teacher who could teach me the nuts and bolts of why music works the way it does. When I finally got to college, my first act as a college freshman involved approaching the guitar professor, Chris Buzzelli, and begging for guitar lessons.
Here’s the part of the story where the rug got yanked out from under me.
On a chalkboard with four permanently painted music staves, Chris scrawled four notes and asked me to play them. I couldn’t do it. I was mortified. I could transcribe a bunch of solos, play some impressive rock guitar, but I couldn't play four notes? Four simple notes on a treble staff?
Embarrassing.
Chris took pity on me. He recognized my eagerness to learn and my desire to improve. He arranged for me to take lessons with a graduate student, Jason Werkema, who taught me jazz guitar. I explored scales, arpeggios, and all sorts of 7th chords. I even memorized a couple of jazz standards. I was finally able to improvise over jazz, solo in a fairly concise way, and play four measly little notes on a music staff.
With that knowledge, I successfully auditioned for the guitar program at the end of my first semester. And damn, I was stoked to be there! Over the next four years, I basically hunkered down to learn guitar.
Getting curious about how to learn music theory
Since then, I dove deeper into my love of music theory. I uncovered more advanced topics that piqued my interest. I expanded on my foundation and developed a deeper appreciation for the lesser-known but super fun concepts of music theory.
As I began teaching, it also became essential for me to discuss music theory in a meaningful way. Some students had an intense curiosity about it. They would ask really good, insightful questions. This challenged me to provide equally good answers.
Over time, I experienced moments of clarity around music theory and how to teach it even better. I wanted to address the questions students had about learning the concepts with the least amount of intellectual baggage. How could I help them grasp the fundamentals quickly and easily? This led me to consider how I would tackle learning music theory if I had to start over.
I began to pinpoint the most important concepts and arrange them into a coherent, cumulative order. I focused on isolating the music theory concepts that truly made a difference in developing musicianship and artistry.
I’ve since guided many students through this approach to learning music theory, and it works. I want to share this overall path here so you can reap the rewards. This information could save you (or someone you know) a lot of time and prevent quite a few headaches.
Before I jump into it, keep in mind that I don’t talk about how to learn these concepts. There are countless ways to address each of them. And thank goodness for that! No single learning method will work for everyone. This blog post presents a cumulative order that builds upon mastery of the previous topic.
Let’s get started!
If I needed to learn music theory again, this is how I’d do it
Learn to play by ear and learn basic music notation.
I would start by learning how to figure out melodies by ear. This requires transcribing melodies and bringing them to life on any musical instrument. The specific instrument doesn’t matter. I used the guitar, but you could choose a piano, an oboe, or a hammered dulcimer if you’re a non-conformist.
Playing by ear helps you develop pitch recognition, which is essential for playing music. A heightened sense of pitch means your ears connect to your instrument. This connection creates a deeper musicality, and extension of yourself. You’re already learning how to express yourself musically before you know anything about music theory.
During this process of learning by ear, I would also recommend learning basic music notation.
Just as reading a book requires understanding written words, music theory relies on written notes to convey meaning. Learning basic music notation helps you get comfortable with how musicians communicate with each other. This includes understanding notes on a staff, clefs, key signatures, and all sorts of other fundamentals. I highly recommend Music Notation by Mark McGrain for getting familiar with this. I recently took about three months to work through that book. It sharpened my skills quite a bit.
Memorize Major Triads, Minor Triads, and Dominant 7th Chords
Once I feel somewhat comfortable transcribing and have a grasp on basic music notation, here’s my next move:
I would memorize the notes of every single major triad. For example, C-E-G, F-A-C, Eb-G-Bb, and so on. I wouldn’t stop until I can spell out each of these triads quickly and without hesitation.
I would tackle minor triads next by taking the third of the major triad and lowering it by a half step.
I would memorize dominant 7 chords last. I’d do this by taking a major triad, counting down two notes from the root, and calling that note the 7th.
Why do I recommend memorizing triads and dominant 7th chords? These chords form the foundation of harmony. Much of western music builds on major and minor triads, as well as dominant 7th chords. Being able to spell them quickly means you gain a significant advantage in understanding the nuts and bolts of music.
Memorize Key Signatures
Next, I’d flat-out memorize the key signatures.
Why? Key signatures are essential for playing in different keys. You do want to play in different keys, right??
Additionally, they engender greater familiarity with the written notes, enabling you to read music more fluently and perform with confidence.
Memorize Basic rhythm: Metric structure
After that, I’d totally commit basic rhythmic subdivision, often called metric structure, to memory.
Why? While the height position of a note on a staff represents pitch, the horizontal position of the note represents time and thus rhythm. Without understanding how notes are subdivided and how they fit into time horizontally, music wouldn’t be at all rhythmic. Simply put, without an ability to write rhythm, you don’t have a song you can tap your foot to.
Learning rhythmic subdivisions allows you to grasp the system of rhythm. Further, you can leverage it to your advantage when writing music.
Feel Solid With Roman Numeral Analysis
Next, I’d sink all of my focus into learning Roman numeral analysis.
Why Roman numeral analysis?
For starters, you’d unlock the underlying chords of most songs, instantly. You can use it to decipher why some songs sound really cool and why others sound kinda lame. Mastering Roman numeral analysis means you can create chord progressions that sound really good together. You'd get a cheat sheet to write a cool chord progression quickly.
Sight reading
Finally, I’d sight read on a daily basis. This book has served as a lifesaver for me to learn sight reading on the piano, and the author also offers a version for guitar.
Why sight reading? For one, it helps you become comfortable with the notes on the staff, the keys and the key signatures, and rhythmic subdivisions. Additionally, getting really solid at sight reading boosts your ability to perform, collaborate, and adapt to new musical challenges.
The process of learning music theory from start to finish
As a recap, here is the learning process for music theory fundamentals from start to finish:
Transcribe melodies by ear and learn music notation
Memorize the major triads
Memorize the minor triads
Memorize the dominant 7th chords
Memorize all the key signatures
Memorize basic rhythm: Metric structure
Get comfortable with Roman numeral analysis
Make a daily habit of sight reading
How Long Will This Take?
Okay, you might be wondering how much time this will take. Before you jump to conclusions, I want to remind you that the order I’ve laid out is cumulative. Each concept builds on the previous one. I do not recommend trying to approach all of them at once. Start with the first concept, right from the beginning. Once you feel comfortable and familiar with a concept, move onto the next.
As far as the time commitment, that depends on the amount of space available to work on it. Given my current schedule right now, it would take me a little less than a year to learn if I had to learn it all from scratch. If I had nothing else going on, give me about three months.
If that sounds discouraging, please check out my blog post on bare-minimum practice routines. I firmly believe that small amounts of practice can lead to big results. You should be aware that you can easily practice sustainably.
What do you get after you complete this basic process?
Here’s the great news: Any additional music theory concept you study after mastering these fundamentals will come easily.
For example, if I want to learn about arpeggios, I can easily dive in because I’ve already memorized the triads and dominant 7th chords.
If I want to write music in a specific key, it's straightforward because I have studied Roman numeral analysis, key signatures, and memorized the chords.
If I wanted to learn modes, I can jump right in because I already know the triads and am familiar with Roman numeral analysis. I can spell out the modes because I’m comfortable with the notes on a staff, key signatures, and metric structure.
Are you starting to see how beneficial learning music theory can be? I hope so.
In conclusion
Learning music theory doesn’t have to be difficult. You can approach it in a sustainable way, gradually, over time. Additionally, not all music theory provides the same amount of benefit to you. There’s tons of things I still don’t know (and that makes it fun).
Understanding which parts of music theory to focus on and in what order gives you a significant advantage.
Now, all you gotta do is roll up your sleeves and get on with it.
Reading Notes
3-5 Minute Read (Photos) | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
Building a QD-23 by Acoustic Fields
Without a doubt, the most time-intensive project to improve my composing studio has been a DiY build of Acoustic Fields’ QD-23. The QD-23 is a massive acoustic diffuser that evenly diffuses all frequencies from 185 Hz to 3.45 Khz. It was totally worth all the pain and difficulties because it sounds dope in my studio, now.
Why on earth did I attempt to build this damned thing? Three reasons.
Reason #1: Acoustics in recording studios are crucial. Taking care to shape the acoustics of a room allows me to feel reasonably confident that a mix will travel well (meaning, it’ll sound good on a lot of different systems). Proper acoustics also ensures a far better chance at clarity and balance.
Reason #2: Diffusion, in general, helps to scatter sound waves evenly throughout a space. The QD-23 works really well when it’s placed behind the person doing the mixing, like on the back wall. I knew that it would allow a deeper, more 3D richness in sound.
Reason #3: I talked my Uncle into helping me with the build. Seeing as how he’s a far better woodworker than I will ever be, I was both shocked and delighted he agreed to help me out.
The process was intense. I knew that I wanted to remember this for the rest of my life, so I kept a photo diary of the process. I’ve published a couple of blogs about this project already, Day 1 and Day 2, but I’ve condenced the entire project onto this blog post so you can see the entire thing, start to finish.
Let’s go!
Day 1
Goal: Cut all wood to the sizes required by the build plans.
Day 2-4
Goal: Stain the wood. I have fewer photos of this part of the process because getting my phone out to take pictures was incredibly difficult with rubber gloves and stain everywhere. The colors did turn out quite pretty:
Day 5-6
Goal: Mark the wood for the wells. Not sure what a well is? You’ll see later in the post.
Day 7
Goal: Get the wells routed out and ready for the slats. My Uncle managed to create a jig for the router so that we could get the work done quicker.
Day 8
Goal: Get sides and wells glued into place. This was really fun to do:
Day 9-10
Goal: Get tops on.
Day 11
Goal: Configure the well depths. See the hammer? My Uncle called that his “Persuader.”
Day 12
Goal: Start placing the wells. Each of them was configured to go to different depths. Notice the gnarly things we needed to do to each slat to make sure that it stuck together…
Day 13
Goal: Do a little framing, make a stand, install in studio, be happy!
Reading Notes
2 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
Evaluating all options; Trade-off consciousness; Making informed decisions
This was me before I considered the trade-offs in every decision:
"I can do anything. Every possible option holds value and significance. The more I work, the better it is. You never know what might turn out to be profitable, so why not do it all?”
This is me after I considered the trade-offs in every decision:
"I will do one thing, and I’ll do it exceptionally well. I accept the sacrifices. I expect that one thing will bring me success.”
The Meaning of Decision
The word "decision" carries a certain sharpness. Just look at the Latin word it comes from: decidere.
“De,” meaning off or away. “Caedere,” meaning to cut.
Decidere means to cut off.
The word "decision" suggests that each time we make a choice, we cut off numerous options.
And there’s the rub… the trade-offs. We can’t do everything, so we need to make do with the best option we’ve got. Unfortunately, there's always trade-offs. Always. Even with easy decisions. We just find it easy to make the easy decisions because we’re already okay with the trade-offs.
The Wisdom of Evaluating Trade-Offs
Here’s the great news:
Considering the trade-offs beforehand allows for spectacularly powerful decisions. Doing so enables us to find the best possible option and fully commit to it.
If we can see that option A is something we actually want, if options B, C, D, E, and F are just stupid, then we can cut them out and simply go for option A. Because we considered the tradeoffs and cut off the hanger-ons, we significantly enhance our well-being, creativity, and professional success. No more harried, “I gotta do everything” moments. Sweet!
Here’s an example:
I wanted more energy to create music, teach more effectively, and write better blogs (Hopefully? Ahem? Maybe?). I decided to sacrifice the immense fun of smoking cigars, eating out, and watching movies during my four-day workweek. I save all this fun stuff for my slothful three-day weekend. During the four-day workweek, though, I make those trade-offs.
I used to get annoyed with myself for having a lack of energy when it came to consistent engagement in my professional life. Now, I can coast though my workweek with a greater ease. I create more music, write more effectively (Again, maybe?), and am more available to my students.
Only time will tell whether I stick to this routine. So far, it’s working out. I’m used to the trade-offs. I made a conscious decision to create more balance, fully aware of the sacrifices. I achieved that balance.
Final Thought
Let’s end this conversation on a bang, why don’t we?
Thomas Sowell wisely pointed out:
“There are no decisions. There are only trade-offs.”
Whoa.
This post was inspired and influenced by Essentialism by Greg McKeown. I totally recommend it.
Reading Notes
3-5 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
Netflix's pivot to streaming; Most options are trashy; Find the best option and throw the rest out.
Reed Hastings, former head of Netflix, is living proof that only a few things really matter. The story of how Hastings built Netflix into a behemoth is partly a story of how he had numerous options presented to him, but ended up selecting the best possible path for the company. Everyone who loves to create art or music can gain valuable insights from understanding how Netflix became a household name.
How Netflix Crushed It
In the early 2000s, Netflix pretty much obliterated the movie rental market with its strategy to send DVD rentals to customers while waiving late fees. It probably put Blockbuster out of business.
Netflix was prospering. There was no reason to rock the boat. Reed Hastings, however, recognized the potential of the internet to wipe out the business model of renting physical DVDs when people wanted to watch movies at home.
He had a choice. He could maintain the existing business model based on DVD rentals, despite the drawbacks of sending physical items to customers who might not return them. Or, he could gradually leverage the expanding technology of the internet to deliver movies directly to people’s homes, instantly, with no extra effort required to return the DVD.
In other words, he could have chosen the many options that would bolster, defend, and protect Netflix's already successful DVD rental business, or he could slowly invest in a single option that had the potential to rewrite the script on how customers watched movies at home.
We all know the end to this story. Netflix is, well, Netflix. And there’s much we can learn from it as artists by analyzing it. To me, Netflix's pivot serves as an ideal example of how to filter through the thousands of bad options to get to the one option that truly crushes it.
Most Options Are Trashy
Options appear and disappear, freely, easily, and constantly. There’s no shortage of options! And to be super clear: Most of the options we have to choose from are not worth it. Very few of them have any significance at all.
Think of all the social media posts you scrolled through recently (ahem!). Which ones stand out in your mind? How many of them do you remember? I'd be surprised if you remember more than one or two posts (ahem, again!).
You had options. There's no shortage of social media posts. But if you can’t remember much about most of them, were they good options to invest your time in? Maybe doom-scrolling doesn't actually do a whole lot for us after all...
And that’s the thing: Most options are not worthy of your time.
Finding the Best Option Takes Time, Effort, and Courage
Reed Hastings invested time to uncover the internet’s potential for streaming. He invested resources into analytics and monitored the changing landscape of consumer behavior. He observed how technology improved enough to handle streaming. He moved forward because he saw the best possible route to grow Netflix. That kind of decision-making requires time, effort, and a boatload of courage.
But, just because making choices requires so much effort does not excuse us from taking every single option presented to us at face value. Let's not make a friend out of laziness.
As we create, be it music or art or film or whatever, we will encounter thousands of options. They will get delivered to us, constantly, whether we like it or not. Should we use this color? Should we use that chord progression? Should we shape the character’s arc in more ways?
Choosing gets easier when we remember that most of the options don't have any value. Only a few options truly matter. John Maxwell rightfully said: You can not overestimate the unimportance of practically everything.
Perhaps we, as artists, ought to save ourselves for the one extraordinary option that outshines all the others and lean into it. Perhaps we could do better to accept the tradeoffs of cutting away the insignificant in favor of the one brilliant and shining idea.
Reed Hastings certainly had plenty of insignificant options in front of him. He could have bolstered and propped up Netflix’s DVD rental business with all his resources. And yet? He chose the best option after quite a lot of deliberation and gradually invested in it. He made that decision thoughtfully, and now we all know Netflix.
In our work as creatives, let’s do the same. Let’s carefully discard as many trivial (or trashy or insignificant or stupid) options as possible. Let’s instead invest in the best options only, from here on out.
Let's do the art that we really want to do.
This post was inspired and influenced by Essentialism by Greg McKeown. I totally recommend it.
Reading Notes
4 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
Shifting to manageable, focused routines; Finding a bare minimum routine that works; Showing up.
My First Epic Fail as a Teacher
When I first began teaching, I told the same thing to every student:
“You must practice an hour a day to learn guitar.”
I remember the look on people’s faces… nearly expressionless, stone cold, and with a hint of fatigue. My guess is they were sizing up whether or not they wanted to learn from me.
I have wised-up.
I realized most people have little interest in practicing for an hour each day. They love to play, of course. But practice? Good, hard, deliberate practice? For an hour?
Nope.
People who came to learn guitar from me led full lives. They had families that deserved their attention. They had careers that occupied many hours of their weekdays. They wanted to learn guitar because they knew how awesome it would feel to play it, not because they wanted to become professional musicians.
Perhaps guilting people into practicing an hour a day wasn’t such a smart idea. I began saying this instead:
“If you want the most bang for your buck, practice [insert specific practice suggestion here] for five minutes each day until our next meeting.”
And the crazy thing? It worked. Why?
Students could easily carve out five minutes.
Students had a clear understanding of what to practice.
The Bare Minimum Routine
Recommending five minutes of practice to my students is an example of a bare minimum routine. A bare minimum routine is a manageable task that we can accomplish every single day regardless of our time, mood, or energy level. The bare minimum routine encourages us to go deep whenever we have the inspiration to stay at that task and play with it for longer. It also forgives us when we just don’t have the time.
Long before I had a catchy name for it, I recognized the importance of daily habits. I loved making investments in my skills. I found my skills grew fastest when I showed up every day to work on them. This included skills like orchestration, synthesizers, score study, and many others. The more I showed up to learn about these subjects, the easier composing became for me. It also became more fun. I felt better, stronger, and more directed.
The Struggle with Rigid Expectations
The problem occurred if I dramatically stated, “I will study orchestration/synths/films for an hour a day, no matter what.”
Inevitably, I had days when I really hated doing this. Like, I really fucking hated every damned second of some of those hours.
Setting aside an hour each day for a single task felt rigid, cumbersome, and frustrating especially on days when I had little time to spare. It didn't matter that I was studying something I loved. I was crushing the energy for learning.
At the same time, I didn’t want to skip practicing altogether. I genuinely cared about improving my musical skills. I struggled to find a reasonable balance.
Now that I have established bare minimum routines, everything has improved so much for the better. I can relax a little bit more.
For example, here’s my bare minimum for composing and piano for each day:
Two notes, each.
I write two notes on a page. I play two notes on the piano. That’s it. That’s my bare minimum routine. No matter what, I always show up and I always do that.
With the task completed, I was left open to write more music or play more piano, if I felt inspired.
On some days, I’d compose an entire page worth of notes. I’d end up playing piano for an hour straight, coming up with ideas that kinda blew my mind. There were moments when I could hardly tear myself away.
What happened on the other days when I wasn't so into it? I showed up and I did just two notes. I completed the bare minimum, and I walked away.
That’s the magic of the bare minimum routine. We select simple yet powerful tasks that we can easily accomplish, knowing they will benefit us in the long run. These tasks get completed quickly on days we don't have a lot of time, and they leave room for inspiration to take root on the days that we can stretch out a bit.
Embracing Daily Engagement
I love my creative routines now, even more. I value that I can make progress with a simple, daily engagement. In my opinion, that’s the very definition of mastery.
No matter what, I show up every day. That’s the point of a bare minimum routine.
You just show up.
Reading Notes
7-9 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron; A journey of a hard-working film producer exploring her creativity; The transformation we can expect from getting in touch with our creativity.
In 9th grade, I permanently borrowed The Artist's Way from my Mom. The title arrested my attention... I had no idea why, but I just needed to liberate it from her bookshelf and keep it for my very own. Sorry, Mom! Only later did I realize how pivotal that act would be for my personal and professional life.
If it weren’t for The Artist's Way, I probably wouldn’t have become a professional musician. It is widely regarded as one of the most influential books on the topic of creativity. In it, author Julia Cameron invites readers to roll up their sleeves and get to work opening the channel to greater creativity. The book does not wax poetic about the wonders of creativity or how the master artists were so creative. Instead it teaches readers how to dig in and become creative themselves through a 12-week program of self-exploration.
The Artist's Way ignited my creativity by teaching me that journaling, often referred to as the morning pages, helps unlock a creative mindset. At first, I struggled getting up before other members of my family, but I got used to it eventually. I began in earnest to write my morning pages. I began to enjoy the feel of the pen in my hand. I needed a place to vent my teenage frustrations anyways... a dual bonus!
I continued writing my morning pages (and going on artist dates) for many years. I still find time for both of them in my busy life, today. I find them indispensible for my creative process. Regardless of whether I'm working on a film score or an album, the common denominator has always been the daily task of the morning pages. They have nourished me for 30 years.
So, when my good friend Mary Beth Minnis asked me if I had ever read The Artist's Way, I couldn’t contain my excitement.
Mary Beth Minnis is an American movie producer known for her work in documentary films. She most recently collaborated on the projects Refuge, Juneteenth: Faith And Freedom, and Jump Shot, each of which addressed lesser-known stories that needed to be told. All of the films are worth watching. She’s currently working with directors Laura Waters Hinson and Claudia Myers on the film The Test, a film about a maintenance man at a Virginia retirement center who dreams of becoming a citizen so he can reunite with his wife and children in Ghana. With his future at stake, he enlists the help of two elderly residents to prepare for the biggest test of his life: the US Citizenship exam. I saw The Test at Austin Film Festival in 2023. It was the only movie from that year that made me cry. I highly recommend it.
Mary Beth’s career as a producer is highly competitive and energetically intense. She once told me she dedicates an average of three years to a single film. It requires a lot of her, but she loves it.
When Mary Beth casually asked me if I had ever read The Artist's Way, I spilled my guts about my absolute love for that book and all it can do for anyone who commits to it. I was also thrilled that my friend, this high-powered, absolutely badass film producer, seemed eager to explore creativity on a deeper level. I couldn’t help but offer to be a guide and accountability partner as she went through the book.
We agreed to meet up each week to discuss the book, chapter by chapter. I’d pester her about doing the morning pages and the artist's dates, and we’d move forward to the next chapter.
At first, Mary Beth had a little trouble fitting the morning pages into her busy life. She also had a little trouble grasping why she needed to do the artist's date. To provide context, the artist's date is a scheduled hour or two full of fun. It’s about doing something interesting to our inner artist in an easy, effortless, playful way. It often feels like we are wasting time doing it. At first, she didn't see the point of doing it.
Yet, she kept on reading the book, doing the morning pages, and going on the artist's dates. She dug in! She had no idea what was going to happen. Me? I was super excited. I knew I was in for a big surprise and I couldn't wait until it revealed itself.
Gradually, moments of spontaneous creativity burst into her life. One day, a recipe for a cake unexpectedly came to her mind. She approached it with a sense of curiosity and playfulness. She explored it without pressure, without needing to complete it immediately. She gave the recipe the space to breathe and become what it wanted to be.
Let’s back up: You need to remember that Mary Beth Minnis does not slack off in her job as a film producer. It was quite a juxtaposition for her to explore a recipe so casually, in such a carefree way.
Instead of saying, “I have to get this cake done or I’m not creating,” Mary Beth allowed herself to have some fun exploring the recipe of that cake. She flowed. She adjusted how much more, or less, of each ingredient she wanted in the cake. Eventually, she found just the right balance. She put almost no efforting into the entire process.
Before she knew it, she had a cake recipe that she liked. She baked the same cake for friends at a potluck and didn’t tell anyone it was hers. The cake vanished in a few minutes. Everyone raved about it. She began to share the recipe with friends who baked it and loved it. She felt like she might be onto something!
Then, even more magic happened: New recipes flowed to her in a remarkably easy way. An ingredient she used in one recipe inspired another. The same thing happened, over and over again. She was thrilled! She was opening up and enjoying the process of creating new recipes just for the sake of creating, and they were pouring out of her imagination.
Again, I want to underscore a really important point: It's super difficult to be a film producer. Film producers are by-and-large responsible for the success (or failure) of a film. They think in hard terms of fiduciary responsibility, management, and business productivity. They corral people together to get a project done on time and under budget. Mary Beth excels at producing films. But, since her involvement was more on the practical side of filmmaking, she doubted her ability to create.
And yet, she ended up completely immersed in the process of creation. It just wasn’t in a way that she expected. Perhaps she thought that creativity was reserved for those with that innate creative gene. Still, she found herself lost in the joy of creating new recipes. I didn’t expect it either! And that’s the point. We never know what we'll create until we are open and carefree enough to try.
I can’t help but marvel at her transformation. What a joy to witness!
If Mary Beth's journey resonated with you, I humbly recommend The Artist's Way. This book will teach you how to embrace your creativity if you commit to it for the 12 weeks it asks of you.
It’s worth it for the joy, alone.
Reading Notes
1 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
Set the intension; Ask for what you want
Can you handle disappointment if you don’t get what you want, even after asking for it?
Even after setting a New Years Intention and checking on it's progress?
I say go ahead and ask for it, no matter how ambitious, no matter the outcome.
Why?
If you don’t ask, the answer is likely no.
Plus if you don’t ask, how can you expect to get it?
More so, how do you know if you really want it if you’re not willing to say it and own it?
Stating your intention is powerful. It means what you want has been stated. It means there’s energy behind what you want.
It means it's out there, man.
It’s not all bad news if you don’t get what you want…
If you don’t get what you want, it might just not be the right time. You never know: Something better could even be on the way.
It’s okay to feel disappointed if you don't get what you want, but remember those feelings won’t last forever.
When you get through that, set the same intention again.
It’s better to be an honest dreamer than a bitter cynic.
Reading Notes
9 Minute Read | Laptop or Tablet Recommended
Topics and Themes
Creating with just the basic tools; The right tool at the right time boosts output; the DFX Transverb and examples of it's starry nature; Creativity thrives with or without great tools
In the opening scene of It Might Get Loud, Jack White casually pounds two nails into two sides of a 2x4. Just a regular block of wood, about a foot long. He winds a guitar string between the nails and secures a pickup beneath the string. He connects the pickup to an amplifier, switches on a distortion pedal, and the audience is instantly met with a burst of loud guitar squeals. He grabs a guitar slide and plays a few notes. It’s absolute rock and roll, and it sounds awesome.
Then, he turns off the distortion pedal and says, “Who says you need to buy a guitar?”
Sometimes the creative impulse is far too strong to wait for the money to magically appear to buy a half-way decent tool to create with. Sometimes, you’ve got to take what you have and make it work. Sometimes, creativity needs to happen right the F now. Jack White's approach is completely valid; we don’t need the best possible tools around us to create something meaningful.
But man, oh man, I love those times when I get my hands on a tool that completely amplifies musical output. I had this experience for the first time in 8th grade when I was on a dangerous path to breaking my Dad's beloved stereo.
An Epic Journey Through the World of 4-Track Cassette Recorders
In junior high, I often found myself recording and re-recording my terrible guitar ideas on my Dad’s high-end cassette tape deck, imagining I was in a professional studio. I'm more than a bit certain that my Dad got annoyed with me for tinkering with his equipment, so, being the wise man that he was, he redirected my focus by getting me a Fostex XR-3 cassette recorder. It’s a good thing he did. I ended up using, abusing, and breaking that thing instead of his prized tape machine!
Fostex XR-3
The XR-3 was a 4-track cassette recorder made by Fostex in the '90s. With its four tracks, the XR-3 allowed me to record multiple layers on a single blank cassette tape. This empowered a hyper-focus on recorded sound. I plugged my guitar directly into the input, and if I liked the result, I would double it or add another part. I picked up an SM-58 microphone at a garage sale and immediately began miking my amps. I recorded everything from white noise to thunderstorms, always on the lookout for interesting sounds. I would even take the dialogue from movies and splice it into my songs. Clearly, I had no sense of what the words "Intellectual Property" meant.
Obviously, my creative output exploded. I recorded hours upon hours of music. I still have the tapes tucked away in my studio closet. Just the thought of listening to them sends shivers down my spine. The XR-3 marked the first of many experiences where the right tool arrived at just the right time.
Discovering Ableton Live
In 2005, I had another moment: I was wise enough to purchase Ableton Live during its early development. Ableton Live is a Digital Audio Workstation (DAW), an audio recording program that runs on a computer. It opened up a world of possibilities for me. With it, I could record entire songs and visualize the tracks on my computer. I could easily compare sounds side by side, mix songs, and export them as MP3 files. I could share my music with anyone who had an email address and the misfortune to know me personally.
Again, I saw a massive bump in creative productivity.
The Magic of Audio Plugins
Not all of the moments where I found a new tool required payment. Some of these moments where I found a creativity-bingeworthy tool were serendipitous because I just didn’t have the money to shell out for a cool new toy. One of these moments was when I found a particular audio plugin I became really passionate about.
Before we get there, audio plugins are worth a definition.
What is an Audio Plugin?
An audio plugin is a piece of software that integrates with a Digital Audio Workstation (DAW) like Ableton Live. Audio plugins enhance the recorded tracks by adding various effects to the sound. These effects can range from reverb and delay to compression and EQ, as well as more unusual and esoteric effects. Today, anyone can download millions of audio plugins and plug them directly into just about any DAW.
One such plugin that had that perfect timing I've been talking about is the DFX Transverb. It was so well-received in my creative workflow in 2008 that as soon as I loaded it into Ableton Live, I knew I wouldn’t be leaving my computer for quite some time.
DFX Transverb
Stepping into the World of DFX Transverb
The DFX Transverb audio plugin was created by Sophia Poirier and Tom Murphy 7, and it’s describe by Tom 7 as…
a delay effect, but it can play back the delay buffer at different speeds. Think of it like a tape loop with two independently-moving read heads. There are lots of parameters to control and a parameter randomizer for the impatient.
If that means nothing to you, that’s okay. Think of it this way: The Transverb allows me to add the feeling of starlight to a song.
The Starlight Effect, With Examples
The Transverb gives everything I throw at it a twinkly quality, like I’m looking up at the stars on a perfectly clear night and every single star seems closer than usual. I have used this plugin on nearly every ambient release I’ve ever done. I love how it allows me to create a glistening shimmer effect without sounding like the stereotypical shimmer reverb.
For Natural Rhythm by Wicked Cities From A Distance, I frequently routed sounds from the Eurorack synthesizers to the Transverb. In this instance, my focus was on using the Transverb to make it feel as though the music were created while I was staring at the sky in the middle of a glacier. The plugin added an incredibly subtle sparkle to the song that it needed:
Another example comes from a different project called The Double Headed Seagulls. In the fourth song of Slimline, titled Skilligalee Chorus, you can distinctly hear reversed guitar sounds. If you listen closely, you’ll notice the Transverb crafting that “starlight” ambiance that I adore, up above:
My friend Jorge Martinez and I utilized the Transverb to great effect on Underwater Sunrise, a track from the album Alluvion. The song features a sequence of notes, repeated throughout. The plugin gave those notes an outwardly glistening yet intensely eerie quality. I thought it felt like climbing a mountain and looking down in a moment of sheer madness:
The Joy of Exploring New Tools in Music
As tools for digital music creation become more powerful, it behooves us to explore a little. I often don’t realize what I’m missing until I discover it. Each time I venture into exploring new tools, I find myself pleasantly surprised. Sometimes, the perfect tool appears just when I need it, and I can't stop making more music.
I want to be super clear: Jack White is 100% right. You don’t need to buy a guitar to make some noise and play rock and roll.
In my case, I don’t need to rely on the Transverb, Ableton Live, or even the Eurorack synthesizers to create music. I could grab a pot and a pan and make music by banging them together. I could sing loudly and to my heart's content, regardless of what my neighbors think. I could even write music with just a pencil and feel as happy as a clam.
However, it’s wonderful to have tools that genuinely amplify creativity, make time fly, and delight us with the results.
Sounds like I owe DFX another donation. If you grab it and love it as much as I do, consider donating to DFX here.
Not many people can claim they traded a world-class opportunity for getting punched in the face.
I can.
That punch might've completely shredded my pride, but I came out ahead. Big time. And I'll get to that in a minute or two.
First things first, the road to that Mike Tyson moment needs a little airtime.
When I finished my masters degree in music, I was offered a spot in a very selective doctoral program in classical guitar. It was a number one music school. Best in the country. Had I enrolled and graduated from that university, I might've guaranteed myself a job in academia, teaching music. I'd have students auditioning to work with me!
As it stands, I turned down this opportunity. Something in me said no. I didn't know what that voice was. A hunch, an intuition, something. Of course, I also suffered a barrage of other, less helpful voices in my head shouting expletive-laden variations of, "You're being a fool! Don't walk away from this!"
Yet, I walked away. I knew I wanted a break from music. A really, really long break.
Completely on a whim, I packed my forest-green Saturn sedan with the essentials and moved to Austin, TX. When I arrived, I got a room in a house with a writer, a couple of slackers, and a guy who played in an especially god-awful emo band. All five of us were absolute slobs. I had a tiny room to myself which came with a twin sized bed. I had no idea why my bed was so scratchy and uncomfortable until later when I came to understand that cheaper sheets have really low thread counts.
Things were not great at that house. My roommates there were not happy people. Shouting, disagreeing. Lots of alcohol and drug use. The dishes piled up regularly. The trash looked like columns, and the columns were everywhere. One of my roommates, the guy who played in that terrible emo-band, punched me in the face over something stupid. It probably had to do with the cleanliness of the house. I watched my glasses shatter as they hit and then shimmied across the floor.
Yup, I gave up on a badass doctorate opportunity to get punched in the face.
I moved out immediately. I crashed on a friends couch in East Austin for a month. I scrounged up a gig literally cutting down trees and digging ditches.
I ate what I could afford. Ramen noodles. Spaghetti. A burger here and there if I had the money. Making matters worse, my beautiful forest-green sedan died. A friend took pity on me and gave me a bike. I was grateful at first. Later on, the handlebar on the bike gave out in the middle of a busy intersection. I smacked the pavement and skidded a foot. I wasn't terribly hurt. Just humbled. Very humbled.
I then had a string of dead-end jobs that ranged from totally innocuous to vaguely threatening. I waited tables. I shuffled and organized paper records at a nonprofit. I stuffed envelopes for a real estate entrepreneur. I checked bags for knives at the local homeless shelter in downtown Austin.
When I look back, more than anything else I remember the confusion I felt... That feeling of uncertainty that I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life.
When the inspiration for my direction in life finally came to me, I remembered the relief. I felt so at ease and peaceful. All the light around me turned golden and luminescent. It felt like a dream, where it was weirdly magical. I felt the first legit feeling of hope in two years.
Here's it was, right in front of me the whole time: I decided that I was going to teach guitar in my own private studio, hell or high water.
With whatever money I had, I found a small studio space in South Austin, set my guitars up, and built my solo teaching practice from scratch. I earned more money. I bettered my life. With help from unlikely friends and colleagues, I gradually pulled myself up from that terrible confusion I had sunk into.
I think about those first two years in Austin with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. Not mad blushes, mind you, but blushes nonetheless. I don't know that I could have done any better with the information I had. Clearly, I needed to go through it. Teaching undeniably made my life better. I got stronger as a human being, wiser (maybe!), more strategic, centered, and more inspired. I developed a cleverness that I still depend upon, wits that I need on occasion, and fast decision-making skills.
Overall, teaching gave me much more than I ever expected, or bargained for. Clearly, I did the right thing when I followed up on that dreamy experience.
In looking back at close to twenty years of teaching private guitar lessons, I feel compelled to share the most surprising things I’ve learned from the experience. These are things I definitely did not know before I started teaching:
Students can learn anything if their hearts are in it.
Analogies are irresistible fun. 80% of the time they work great.
If there's no emotional connection between teacher and student in the beginning of each lesson, the lesson will feel rocky and weird. Reconnecting and talking after a time apart allows us to find common ground.
Consistent and small amounts of practice each day creates a greater mastery than inconsistent, hyper-motivated sprints.
The more I charged per hour, the better the clients. Not only that, but the pace of learning and commitment were stronger. Even better: The collaboration was 10X stronger.
It doesn't matter if a student comes in late if I still get paid for the full hour. Hows that for a truth bomb?
A student who keeps their agency and accepts responsibility to learn often gets way better results than a student who just listen and does, blindly. A student who figures something out on his/her own is way more motivated to learn. I dare say, more fun to work with overall.
Collaborative learning is way more fun than authoritarian teaching.
If I mess up, it's almost never as big a deal as I think it is. If a student messes up, it's almost never as big a deal as he or she thinks it is.
Pretty much everything that goes wrong is probably not that big of a deal.
9 times out of 10, wrist pain or back pain on the part of the learner is caused by something other than playing their instrument.
Trying to figure out how someone learns, and how I can teach a concept to many different people, forced a creativity and emotional resilience that I wouldn't have developed otherwise. Problems aren't really hard; Finding the right solution makes difficult problems disappear.
When a student is done working with me, it's best to make it super clear that he/she owes me nothing.
Hearing from old students, and getting an update on their life, is one of the greatest joys I've ever known.
An easy to use and automated scheduling software is well-worth the investment.
Watching people progress and change, right before my eyes, couldn't get more addictive.
It's good to remind really serious students, the ones who practice hard, that it's okay to relax.
The fun goes through-the-roof when both parties put their phones on airplane mode.
Unless I ask a lot of questions, the core reason why someone wants to learn guitar will remain hidden. The more hidden that reason is to me, the less successful the collaboration.
Consistently reminding students where they came from helps them remember how far they have progressed. It also keeps them from obsessing over how much they have to learn.
Getting "good" at playing guitar is actually not that fun of an experience. Enjoying playing guitar is.
Teaching, as a profession, is more about the teacher learning than it is about the student. There's no reason to go into education if you're not curious about yourself.
Not bad eh?
I guess all it took was a punch to the face.
Just like everyone else, there was a part of my life where I focused on the wrong things.
When I was a lot younger, I put all my focus into “being the best guitarist, ever.” I had this ideal of what the perfect guitarist would look like. I loved the thought of being acknowledged as this total badass on guitar. I romanticized the adulation I would receive on stage. I loved thinking about the attention I would get from the opposite sex. In every possible way, I wanted to be that perfect guitarist. I measured myself against him constantly. As you might've guessed, it didn't make me happy.
My life thankfully took a different turn. Now that I look back on it, I can’t help but wonder: What would've happened if I kept this target of being the best guitarist ever? What would my life look like?
For one, I probably would have 10X the technical ability on the guitar than I do now. I’d seriously blow the guitar up every time I played it.
I would have firmed a reputation as a touring musician. I probably would have recorded in quite a few amazing recording studios. I would have spent many more lonely hours in bars.
I also imagine my LinkedIn profile might've looked cluttered with groups that I had played in. I would have a colossal social-media following. I'd probably possess many more connections within the music industry. Perhaps I would have cultivated a reputation as this immense rock/metal guitar icon. Who knows?!?
I have no regrets about the path I took. I focused on film composing, on building a good home life, and I concentrated heavily on balance in all parts of my life. I'm pleased to say that I'm remarkably happy and progressing further towards all these ends.
After all, I believe that what I focus on is what I will become known for. The good, the bad, or the meaningless. Focus on the good stuff, I'll become known for it. Focus on the bad stuff, I'll become known for it. Focus on the meaningless stuff, and I'll get remembered as meaningless (if at all).
Now, my focus remains on the things I wish to cultivate. Values like balance, creativity, presence, kindness, and security. I'm very cool with getting remembered for any one of those!
Likewise, I ruthlessly expunge anything that I don't want to become known for. I refuse to hold court with optional sadness, arbitrary anger, or voluntary bitterness. Don't get me wrong. I feel my feelings which at times challenge me, but I never create stories about them. I guess I don't want the people I love to remember me as a man who carried shitty narratives.
This also affects how I develop my career. Every time a well-meaning friend tells me I should get better at social media to make it in the film industry, I ask myself, "am I willing to become known for that?"
I don’t want to become known for putting out YouTube videos every day about film composing, no matter the promise of more exposure. Knowing me, I’ll have less energy to reach out to potential directors, let alone give them my unbroken attention. Besides, it's not guaranteed to get me more gigs.
I don't want to be known as an Instagram influencer who continually is on the phone, even during Thanksgiving dinner. I think that couldn’t get more rude. Besides, it's not guaranteed to get me more gigs.
Further, I don't want to be known for working with the wrong people because I think it will lead to success. Narcissists, takers, and opportunity exploiters... all of these people just want me to do something for them. Besides, it's not guaranteed to get me more gigs.
Simply, I won't do anything that I don’t want to become known for.
Coming back to my example earlier, had I continued to focus on being the best guitarist ever, I would no doubt have become the best guitarist ever (at least in my mind!!!).
At the same time, I might have missed all the pleasure I have creating ambient music with modular synthesizers. I might have missed the joy of creating an orchestration for a scene that works perfectly with the performance. I might have missed all the wonderful chats I have with directors who just want to know the best way to get their film's music done. I might have overlooked the joys of a clean life, of settling down in a good home, of interacting with a close-knit, like-minded community.
I focus on giving my undivided presence to those I think deserve it. I bet I'll be remembered as a guy who put down his phone when he was in conversation and gave his attention thoroughly and generously.
I focus on creating music with a cutthroat ferocity to shut out external demands. I bet someday the film and music industry will view me as a guy who cared about doing his best work.
I focus on being a good friend. I hope my friends will remember that, once I'm gone. They may not! I don't know! That's certainly the hope.
I won't budge. I'll never go back.
I only focus on what I am willing to become known for.
I’ve heard some people totally shit on goal-setting. Maybe that word sounds too sporting. Maybe others prefer not to put pressure on themselves to accomplish things. Maybe a fear lingers that they’ll fail. Maybe others just hate the SMART goal acronym and wish it would die already. Or weirdly, maybe goals “aren’t difficult enough.”
Yet, throwing out goal-setting altogether leaves room for an even tougher devil to take up space:
Ideals.
What is an ideal? To me, it’s a far off version of perfection.*
Years ago, I threw out goal-setting because I felt depressed about not achieving the goals I created. But almost immediately, ideals invaded and proliferated in me. I often thought, “if only I could be like (insert name of famous musician) then I would have it all together.” Comparisons festered, and comparisons are indeed a thief of joy.
As I languished in not living up to whatever ideal I was comparing myself to, I also felt completely depressed. True, there was a lot of progress in a lot of ways. I saw forward movement. Yet I still felt haunted by the sense that I couldn’t reach that plateau.
Ideals vs Goals
I stayed attached to ideals until I began to consider the differences between ideal and goals. What I figured out totally surprised me:
Ideals lend themselves well to obsession, and obsession leaves no room for allowing the energy of inspiration. Putting work into achieving well-defined goals allows me to gauge progress, feel momentum, and it primes the pump for inspiration.
Reaching an ideal can never happen because ideals love to change. Reaching a goal means I get the satisfaction of reaching it, and then choosing a new goal.
Ideals resist definition. Goals love specificity.
Ideals tend to grow exponentially, no matter the progress made towards them (a true rat race). Goals stay the same size as when I consciously chose them.
Ideals resist measurement. Goals thrive on it.
Ideals constantly shift and move around. Goals stay put (with a little bit of effort).
Reaching an ideal means nothing because I don’t ever notice reaching it. Reaching a goal means a whole lot more because I will celebrate the completion of that goal. I more clearly reach a goal than I do an ideal.
Ideals need a low-self worth to thrive. Goals need sustained engagement and a little love to survive.
Ideals seem indistinct and fuzzy. Goals love to exist in a concrete, crisp, clear, and transparent way.
Ideals require me to measure myself relentlessly to other people, especially if I look up to them. Goals force me to get pragmatic about growth, to get smart about how progress gets measured.
Ideals force me to measure progress forwards, to see exactly how far I am away from achieving them. Goals allow me the opportunity to measure progress backwards, from where I started, and focus on the gains.
Ideals suck focus away from my mental life due to their chatty and cluttered nature. Goals are simple, clear, and I let go of them after I reach them.
Ideals breed depression. Goals breed momentum and lightness.
Ideals punish me regardless of whether I chase them or not. Goals don’t mind getting put away for a little while, especially if I only notice the progress I make towards achieving them.
Ideals have only one timestamp: ASAP. Goals can easily survive an openness and freedom of time.
Ideals force me to concoct how to get there. Goals (without a time-stamp) allow enough room for me to use inspiration to find the strongest way to achieve them.
Ideals never give me a moments rest. Whatever I do, I’ll never live up to them. Goals allow me far more peace, especially if I see progress.
Ideals cause anxiety. Goals can create repose and happiness if done correctly and with inspiration.
Ideals get implanted as a result of unconscious programming. Goals are chosen consciously, and (hopefully) with immense care.
So now? I’ve thrown out all my ideals. I set goals. This time, I said, “No timestamps. I’m patient. I can still get it done even if it’s not today.” I measure the progress backwards. Much, much simpler. Lighter.
I notice more and more relief flood my body when I work. I no longer feel stressed while I work. I can also feel rested and comfortable on my days off. I can let go of work with much more ease.
And overall, I see a lot more forward movement. I feel much happier. I feel like my goals are much closer to getting accomplished, too.
And holy shit I’ve got tons of things I gotta do with this life.
*Ideals and/or goals have nothing to do with one's values, ethics, anything else. It is simply a mental construct of the “perfect” you living the “perfect” life with the “perfect” this/that/the other thing.
Whenever anyone says that they don’t mind the heat in Austin Texas, they never say it during August.
The heat makes things feel a little... cwazy. My sycamore tree gasps for breath in a very yellow-leafed way. The lizards scoot over the pavement like mini hovercrafts. Ants hide in the relative shade of the grass. Cats never bask in the sun. Dogs don’t get walked until the day is done.
To make matters comical, the AC in my car died. I have a 7 mile radius I can drive, unless I decide to get out in the early mornings. Getting lunch? Gotta deliberate on that one. Have a date with a special someone? Might want to rent a car for that. My Mom and I have had pretty epic conversations about getting a new car. I gotta admit, I feel tempted.
To make summers shorter, I pick projects that take a little while to get done. An album, a film score, something. This time, I decided to do something a bit different, and epically satisfying on a creative level.
I decided to completely categorize all of my old voice notes, sketches, and musical ideas so I could search by mood and project. I wanted to have a plethora of melodic ideas ready to go, at a moment’s notice.
For example, on February 19th, 2020, I created an orchestral sketch entitled, “P17 - Doubling For Power” (see screenshot below). Doubling for Power is a orchestral technique taken from George Frederick McKay and his epically good Creative Orchestration.. Be sure to get the workbook for Creative Orchestration, too. It’s great for learning how to orchestra.
I wanted to categorize Doubling For Power with moods [see screenshot]. I wanted to make sure I knew it was something I could use for film soundtracks. And I also wanted to write down who it reminded me of, like composers and artists. Finally, I wanted to be able to pull this up on different devices to audition the idea.
And here comes the drama: Whereas before I had no idea this sketch even existed, now if a director came to me and asked for something epic, powerful, rhythmic, and dramatic, then I can search for the moods and audition this piece for the director immediately.
Not all the sketches I had were orchestral ones. Many involved synthesizers. More than 800 of them of them are me singing into my voice notes app and saving them. Sometimes, this happened in the middle of the night. I’ve found these to be great starting points for new films.
When I started on June 30th, I had just around 2,100 or so sketches to catalog. And it was a huge mess. I looked at the sheer amount of them and got a headache thinking about having to search them. How to find just the right idea.
That led me to the next idea: Why not create a database of sketches? Luckily, I found an incredible app called Collections. And, I totally recommend it. It has made the cataloging process so much easier.
It’s now the middle of August, and this morning I completed quite a few sketches and records. I can already think a little clearer. And boy was it ever fun to find old, crazy sketches (I found an early demo of this song, too)
