composer
instrumentalist
new media artist

I was contacted several months ago by Michael Goodman (aka Implex Grace) of Distance Recordings about contributing a track to an upcoming compilation album. I knew a handful of other artists who were submitting material either personally or by reputation, and was honored to be asked to be a part of this project. Fast forward several months. I figured the compilation had fallen through since I hadn’t heard anything from anyone involved. Meanwhile, Mother Nature was taking a bat to Japan and the whole world was forced to watch. General feelings of helplessness abounded.

It was around this time that someone suggested we release the compilation asap, and donate 100% of the proceeds to the relief efforts in Japan. The overwhelming surge of positive responses to this proposal flooded my inbox. Finally, we were able to help in some small way.

I’ve been somewhat apprehensive in the past of artists wearing ribbons to promote their own music. It’s a horrible thing to attempt to cash in on the suffering of others. Is the artist writing this song because [s]he really feels strongly about the issue, or is it a cheap bid for attention? Is saying “in memory of…” a way of attracting more google hits and a vain attempt at viral one-hit-wonderism? Don’t look now, buddy, but your ego showing. Hypocritically, I now find myself telling people to buy this album because “it’s for a good cause”. Am I becoming one of those tea-bags with stars in his eyes and dollar signs in his heart? I don’t know. Maybe.

This album was, as I had mentioned, compiled months before anything had even hinted at pummeling Japan. I’m not wearing a ribbon or changing the color of my profile picture on various social networks so that everyone knows I support this, that, and the other. I don’t proclaim that my track was written in memory of anyone. It’s as selfish a piece of music as anything else I’ve ever written. This piece was not made for Japan, but I’ll gladly donate all hypothetical proceeds to help them. I mean, if money is generated and we need some place to send it, I’d much rather it go there than to my own personal sandwich fund. (jk, the plan was always to donate the proceeds. The only thing that changed was the decision to send it to the Red Cross for Japan instead of some other organization).

The audience typically interested in the niche family of artists featured on this compilation will not grow simply because this album is being sold “for a good cause”. You may hate the music, and that’s fine. Don’t buy it. If you really want to help Japan, you can donate money directly to the Red Cross and cut out the middle man. For the few of you who would be interested regardless, please consider sending your dollars to procure a copy. It’s the type of thing you’d probably get anyway and, though it’s only $5, *gulp* every little bit helps.

…

*double gulp* And it’s for a good cause.

Preview and Buy the Album Here!

These are stills taken from a new video project I’m working on with an amazing band. I’m not sure how much I’m supposed to say, so that’s all for now. The clips were made using a slightly updated version of my old Jitter patch “Pixel Hack”. Though I still want to create a new setup, I like the way that some of these turned out. More info and links to the project once it’s officially released.

While hanging out with my friend and former band mate Ella Joyce Buckley, the topic of artists and their mastery over their craft came up. Though generally supportive of new art and the concept of progress in aesthetics and/or technique, she maintained that theater was one of the few art forms where artists regularly had to access old familiar parts of themselves. In other words, in order to play a role, they are required to draw from personal experiences to aptly convey a sense of character or emotion. She continued to argue that a true master of the craft would have such extensive access to these deep recesses that they wouldn’t have to mime grand gestures in order to convey a sense of personality. One who truly understands their art would be able to utter 2 words in such a way that everything an audience needs to know about the character is effectively communicated. Whether or not artists in other mediums similarly “access parts of themselves” is a different argument for a different day. The idea, however, of mastery over an art form displayed through economy of gesture is incredibly interesting. One might imagine a painter being able to, in a single stroke, paint a leaf in such a way that it expresses a unique thought or emotion. Musically, one could imagine a 4 note melody accomplishing a similar task. The ability to survey a situation and come up with a succinct yet effective solution requires deep understanding of a craft and earnest practice. (note: economy of gesture is not to be confused with economy of effort). 

With the ability to instantly share information and ideas on an international level, it’s easy to become preoccupied with thinking that your work needs to make use of the newest, most sensational software and/or techniques to be valid. Though I’m not one to discourage new ideas, working methods, or complex systems for creating music, I realize that this sort of trap is something that often inhibits my own writing. It’s always humbling when I find someone who either ignores these shiny toys, or decides that they are unnecessary for a particular situation and is able to, in a single stroke, paint a picture that accomplishes what I have been unsuccessfully working towards in the form of a 3D feature film. When I see/hear/experience work like this I first become excited, then scared as I realize how much work and study I have left to do. Sometimes live processing, generative video, and additive acoustic synthesis are appropriate, effective, and necessary. More often a simple and concrete melody will suffice.

Thanks to our good friend Wilmer Chan, Erik Schoster and I went on a short weekend trip to Lawrence University in Appleton Wisconsin to play some electro-acoustic music and talk about our working methods. This was a special concert for us since we had both attended the conservatory and were eager to see how the program had changed. During our down time we were able to attend a senior composition recital and, a day later, a New Music on Sundays concert featuring pieces by the majority of the composition studio. I was thoroughly impressed with the sophistication and ingenuity each piece exhibited as well as humbled by the sheer precociousness of the students. All of the pieces were well written, and many of them overcame, if not united, the typical diametric approaches of writing in academic pursuit and writing to express an emotion. I’m fairly certain my work wasn’t nearly as mature when I was that age. I’m fairly certain it still isn’t.

I returned to NY musically rejuvenated. For three days I was back in an environment where the perceived success of a live performance didn’t hinge on an ensemble’s ability to make the audience dance, and good ideas with hard work went much further than a silly costume or stage prop. That, coupled with a Wisconsin starry sky and silent streets, created a motivational powder keg. As soon as I got home I cleaned my studio, bought some new pencils and manuscript paper, and started planning some new pieces. Sometimes I start to think that I create music out of habit and have forgotten why I do it in the first place. The stock response to a problem like this is that I create out of passion, but like curse words, if I utter this mantra often enough it loses meaning. The older I get, the more I realize I need short trips to the midwest like this to remind myself of the intangible reasons I listen.

I had originally bought bryanteoh.com because I was putting together business cards and thought it would be nice to have a URL on it that didn’t involve some sort of pseudonym. After handing a few out, I realized it wouldn’t bode well for publicity if people interested in offering a gig went to the listed URL only to find that no page existed. In a desperate attempt to fix this, I slapped a temporary site together. 4 years later I’ve finally gotten around to properly redesigning it. As I learn more about contemporary web coding practices, I’m sure things will change and sections will become more functional/interactive, but for now I think I’d rather get back to working on music. I tip my hat to those of you who do this sort of thing for a living. The simple task of trying to integrate a blog gave me all sorts of headaches. Thanks to Erik Schoster (he can jog) for helping me out when I had questions.