Allen Michael

Amplified steel-string guitar soloist

Prelude LP—Cello Suite No. 1: Prelude

January 13, 2024  /  Zen Ritual

I chose the extremely famous “Prelude” from Johann Sebastian Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 to be the first single and title track from my upcoming debut album, Prelude LP, as an exercise in audacity (the audacity to release a classical recording with mistakes) and a heartfelt welcome to my fans to finally embark with me on this journey I’ve been postponing for far too long. TL;DR: welcome!

Just so you know what I’m talking about, here is the most famous recording of this most famous piece of classical music written for one of the most famous classical instruments (cello) performed by one of the most famous cellists from one of the most famous centuries of one of the most famous civilizations on one of the most famous planets on Earth:

Before I talk about this prelude, it’s important to know what a prelude is musically, because you will come across a few on my album and certainly many more in classical music. Etymologically, prelude means “fore-play” (use your imagination). Musically, it is generally a short, improvisatory piece played at the beginning of some specific collection of music. In the early days, it was improvised music performed by the church organist before the prescribed music of the service. It would have also been improvised by a court musician getting ready to play the evening’s dance music at a royal party. Because of their improvisatory nature, preludes are primarily performed by soloists. By the time Bach wrote his preludes, of which there are quite a few, it became standard to actually write them out for the musicians since they were no longer being played necessarily in functional events (parties, balls, church services) but in music-as-performance for a listening audience. After Bach, preludes became standalone compositions and a term that applied to any short and loosely structured composition that didn’t necessarily fit into any other category. There are a couple of these on my album as well, such as Heitor Villa-Lobos’ Prelude No. 4 in E minor (“Homage to the Brazilian Indian”).

So what about the Bach preludes? I’ve included two of Bach’s preludes on my album—the other being from Cello Suite No. 3. What I love about these pieces is the freedom they allow the performer. You can really learn a lot about a musician by how they play these pieces. Each performance is like a window into the musician’s soul. Other pieces are more standardized and their interpretations are more often indicative of skill, but with the preludes (as they are not exceedingly difficult), you learn about a musician’s soul. Why? Because they come with no instructions. It’s just a series of even, consistent notes with no performance indications. The worst musicians, in my opinion, are the ones who play it as written because then it sounds robotic. One must take creative liberties with a prelude. The other pieces that immediately follow Bach’s preludes are slightly more strict in rhythm and tempo. In my blog about Bach, I compare the preludes to Shakespeare’s monologues where the performer is left alone exposed on stage with the audience hanging on to every word and inflection. That is when the performer truly shines. The rest of the play/suite is business as usual.

So what about this prelude? This prelude is so great and famous and beautiful, in my opinion, because of the following: it opens with a memorable and repetitive figure and harmonic progression that sets up the rest of the piece followed by deviations and variations of that opening figure that take the listener through different key centers and chords starting with major diatonic triads that meander and weave into distant keys and proto-jazz harmonies in a way that remains consistently beautiful but everchanging and interesting. Most other types of compositions can be boiled down to leaving home, going on a journey, and coming home again. But preludes leave home once and for all with no return. They remind me of leaving a lakeside cabin by canoe, meandering down the river and ending up in the ocean. The ocean is the rest of music in the suite (the “meat and potatoes” if you will), but on your way to the ocean are wonderful and varied landscapes totally different from what’s out at sea. These fleeting images, each different from the last, are what make Bach’s preludes so beautiful and captivating and why I open my album with one.

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Recording the Prelude LP

January 08, 2024  /  Zen Ritual

On December 16th and 17th of 2023, I had the privilege (and stress) of FINALLY recording the tracks for my debut album, Prelude LP. After years of “waiting until I get around to it” to record it myself in my home studio, I knew I needed a different approach. So I said, screw it, and booked two dates in a professional studio knowing I’d have no choice but to prepare to succeed or doom myself to failure.

Up to this point, I have released a few home recordings as singles on streaming platforms (“Spanish Romance,” “Morning of Carnaval,” and “Over the Rainbow”), but, despite my best self-taught efforts at sound engineering and post-production, the recordings did not live up to the professional expectations I had hoped to chance upon. It occurred to me that if I want professional results, I may have to hire a….professional.

So I called up The Hideout Recording Studio in my hometown of Henderson, Nevada, and booked some time with one of their lead engineers, Tristan Hardin. Having done a lot of photography myself, I can say that trying to record yourself is a bit like trying to photograph yourself. It’s just too jarring and inefficient to constantly move between artist and technician. (I’ve also just finished a photoshoot where I actually hired a photographer to take my photos for the album). It was nice being able to just sit in the artist’s seat and let something else worry about screens, knobs and buttons. Tristan was great to work with and really understood what I was going for musically.

That said, despite all my preparations, and booking 2 days, I still overestimated how long it would actually take to record a whole album. The first hour was just setting up the equipment and instruments plus another 30 minutes of dialing in a good guitar tone. Foolishly, I started with the most difficult piece and spent two obsessive hours trying to get every phrase and section of music to sound just right. Time is free when I’m recording myself at home, but quite dear when paying a pro by the hour, so I had to whip out my favorite day-job phrase, “good enough is good enough for me,” and move on.

I was able to finish recording two or three more tracks in that first day. Going into day two, however, I knew I had to be much more efficient if I wanted to finish the album. So, I whipped out a quote from Elon Musk:

"If you give yourself 30 days to clean your home, it will take you 30 days.
But if you give yourself 3 hours, it will take 3 hours.
The same applies to your goals, ambitions, and potential."

I now had five hours to finish the remaining seven or so pieces. I dialed up my focus and turned down my tension and finished the last of the tracks just before my time was up.

I know what you’re thinking: “Wow! Amazing! When do I get to hear this masterpiece that’s finally finished after hearing you talk about it for the last 6 years!?” The answer is sometime this year. I now have to wait for Tristan to finish all the mixing, editing and other post-production work. While he’s doing that, I have to finish designing the layout and packaging for my streaming, CD and vinyl releases, and place the orders for the physical releases.

They say the best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago, but the second best time to plant a tree is today. Honestly, I could have recorded this album years ago. I would have played it better and could have moved on to new and better recordings by now. I’m glad I’ve finally done it though. This is the biggest creative project of my life so far and I’m already pumped and rejuvenated to make the next one even better. Until then, I hope you enjoy Prelude LP…when it finally comes out!

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Composer Series—Johann Sebastian Bach: “The Godfather of Classical Music”

September 19, 2020  /  Allen Michael

The biography and subsequent influence of Johann Sebastian Bach is too great to condense into a single blog post, too dry for non-academics, and too heavily represented by more authoritative sources for anyone that’s genuinely interested. So, I’ll keep the bio brief, the historical importance briefer and try instead to articulate why I think he’s worth our interest.

J.S. Bach lived from 1685 to 1750 and spent his entire professional life in Germany. He was destined to became the most famous (today) in a long line of family musicians when his father taught him how to play harpsichord and violin. Unfortunately, his parents died when he was nine years old and Johann went to live with his older brother who taught him to play organ. At 15, he received a scholarship for his fine singing voice and began his a career in music when he graduated at 17. He was what we would call a “church musical director” who happened to also be a virtuoso organ player, organ builder and conductor. He was a hard-working and devout Lutheran who dedicated each of his works “in the name of Jesus.”

Serious, but kind and devoted.

Serious, but kind and devoted.

An organ similar to what Bach would have performed on.

An organ similar to what Bach would have performed on.

Bach composed over 1,000 sacred, organ and choral works, but his other instrumental music, which he wrote mainly for personal enjoyment or for his students, is what he is best known for today. Even though Bach is now considered a genius, in his lifetime, he was just a talented, working musician. His sons, Carl Philipp Emanuel and Johann Christian Bach, both composers, eclipsed their father in fame. Bach Sr. was considered old-fashioned and largely forgotten with many of his most famous pieces today not receiving public performance until almost 100 years after his death when he was “rediscovered” by Felix Mendelssohn beginning in the 1830s. Bach’s brilliant, innovative and immensely complex use of counterpoint (multiple melodic lines weaving in and out of each other) has earned him a place at the pinnacle of the Baroque musical style.

St. Thomas Church in Leipzig, Germany, where Bach worked from 1723 to his death in 1750. Martin Luther also preached here in 1539.

St. Thomas Church in Leipzig, Germany, where Bach worked from 1723 to his death in 1750. Martin Luther also preached here in 1539.

I would compare Bach’s impact on the development of Western art music (aka “classical” music) to Shakespeare’s effect on the development of English literature. Each radically evolved their respective fields spawning huge advancements for hundreds of years to come. Bach’s mastery of counterpoint is still a cornerstone of classical music and required study for music students across the world. He was able to synthesize all of the different styles and techniques of his day into a more cohesive and robust musical vocabulary. Subsequent legends such as Mozart, Beethoven, and Chopin were deeply inspired by his music with Beethoven even calling him, “the original father of harmony.”

As a soloist, I am mostly drawn to Bach’s works for solo violin and cello. These works make up a tiny fraction of his overall oeuvre, but they are some of his most famous. In them, Bach condenses his cosmic genius into a bare, raw, stripped down expression of the highest divinity. In their sparseness, there is no room for error and no limit to the expressive possibilities of the individual. They are like the monologues of Shakespeare where the actor is alone on-stage almost speaking to the audience as they hang on to his every word. With no quick-witted banter going back in forth between various characters, every syllable, every articulation, every rise and fall in pitch and volume, and every breath counts.

If Bach’s larger works are kaleidoscopes aimed at heaven, then his solo pieces are microscopes aimed at the heart. The interpretation is left entirely up to the individual, not a conductor/concertmaster. Like Shakespeare, Bach also leaves NO performance or expression indications—no tempo markings, no dynamics. The only clue is perhaps the rhythm or general style of the piece. But the preludes, my favorite, do not even follow a specific style or pattern. They are just a stream of notes from beginning to end with few, if any, breaks. It is up to the performer to interpret the phrasing and expression of these notes.

I’m also drawn to Bach’s music because of it’s fractal nature. This is an entire topic for another time, but, for now, I’ll leave you with a definition and a visual example. Fractals are “infinitely complex patterns that are self-similar across different scales.” In other words, if you were to zoom in, or out, infinitely, the same shape would continuously appear. This phenomenon occurs all throughout nature: trees, blood vessels, lighting bolts, rivers, broccoli, neural networks, galaxies, etc. In my opinion, it is one of the fundamental forces governing the universe and exists at every level from the microscopic to the cosmic. I will save the fractal analysis of Bach’s music for another time, but the fact that Bach was operating at such a profound level—before the mathematical basis for fractals was even conceived—reveals his genius and the infinite opportunities for performers and listeners to understand his music.

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Composer Series: Heitor Villa-Lobos—The Culmination of an Artist

June 02, 2020  /  Allen Michael

Although the guitar was one of Villa-Lobos’ primary instruments not just as a musician but, more importantly, as a Brazilian, he largely neglected composing for it. In his lifetime, Villa-Lobos wrote for the guitar only a few collections, a concerto, and some one-offs as a student—a mere fraction of his overall output.

The guitar in the early 20th century had negative connotations. It was seen as the peasants’ instrument whereas the cello, for example, was an instrument for sophisticated and privileged individuals. The role of the guitar in society was not unlike it’s role today in the hands of raggedy street performers or sensual rockers. What serious man would embarrass himself to play it let alone attempt serious music on it?

Little did Villa-Lobos know…the Modernists were already incorporating indigenous and local art into their own art. The British Empire’s colonization of exotic locales, for example, resulted in the “discovery” of many primitive cultural artifacts which were quickly relocated to European museums. The imaginations of artists ran wild resulting in a branch of art called “Primitivism.” Primitivism also found its way into art music such as Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring (1913).

The guitar, like the African mask, became a patronizingly Romantic symbol of a simple people, but it was also the bridge between the popular classes and high art. The poet Manuel Bandeira said that, for Brazilians, “the guitar had to be the national, racial instrument…Unfortunately the guitar has also been resisted for its fame as an instrument of the low-minded, of intrigue and as an accomplice to roguery in seductive late-night revelries…” The guitar was similarly prejudiced in Spain where it was only played by unsavory Flamenco players, dangerous gypsies and lascivious adulterers. Yet, it attained a reputable place in the concert hall through performers like Andres Segovia and composers Manuel de Falla and Joaquin Rodrigo.

Although Villa-Lobos was reluctant to represent the guitar in his music, he nevertheless achieved the rare synthesis of individual cultural identity and acceptance into the European elite. He enjoyed his status as national icon and international artist for the rest of his life but would not write any other serious works for the guitar until Cinq preludes of 1940.

The “Five Preludes” represented different areas, people or cultures of Brazil that Villa-Lobos encountered during his youthful travels.

Prélude No. 1: A lyrical melody dedicated to the Brazilian sertanejo [cowboy]
Prélude No. 2: Homage to the Carioca [hustler]
Prélude No. 3: Homage to J.S. Bach [old Villa-Lobos]
Prélude No. 4: Homage to the Brazilian Indian [indigenous people]
Prélude No. 5: Homage to the cosmopolitan teenagers who frequent Rio’s concerts and theaters [young Villa-Lobos]

In the next blog, I’ll talk more about the Five Preludes specifically number 4, which I perform below.

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Beyond the Scenes: "Dance of the High Plains" - Part 3 (The Altiplano)

May 11, 2020  /  Allen Michael

The Altiplano, (Spanish for “high plains”) is an area in South America which occupies parts of northern Chile and Argentina, southern Peru, and the west half of Bolivia. With an average elevation of 12,300 feet, it is the largest high plateau area on Earth besides Tibet in the Himalayas. The Altiplano is a geologically diverse area with massive volcanoes to the north and west, the Atacama Desert—one of the driest areas on Earth—to the south, and the Amazon Rainforest to the east. Mining near the many salt flats and llama herding have been major industries since the fall of the Inca Empire.

All of the above photos are from Wikipedia

In order to capture the aesthetic natural diversity of this vast region for my cinematic music video, “Dance of the High Plains,” I knew I would need to commission a caravan of off-road vehicles and a team of cinematographers led by legendary director, Werner Herzog. Unfortunately, Mr. Herzog, was not available within my timeline, so I took it upon myself to complete the project without his help. I was able to mimic many of the Altiplano features by visiting such places as Death Valley in California, Jean Dry Lake Bed in the Mojave Desert of Southern Nevada, and the areas surrounding Kanab, Utah. Interestingly, Kanab was once known as “Little Hollywood,” because many Western films from the 1920s through the 70s were filmed there and starred such household names as Robert Redford and Clint Eastwood.

To learn more about my filming of “Dance of the High Plains,” please read Part 1 and Part 2 of this series.

Since I didn’t take any actual “photos” during my trips, the following images are taken from the video footage I shot.

The Sand Dunes and Zabriskie Point at Death Valley National Park

Jean Dry Lake Bed, Mojave Desert, Southern Nevada

Kanab, Utah, Surrounding Areas

All photos copyright Allen Michael Music 2020 unless otherwise noted.

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Beyond the Scenes: "Dance of the High Plains" - Part 2 (Ennio Morricone and the Spaghetti Western)

April 20, 2020  /  Allen Michael

In Part 1 of this blog series on my upcoming cinematic music video for “Dance of the High Plains” (which will also appear on my upcoming debut album titled Prelude), I talked about the composer of the original piece, Leo Brouwer, and I talked about Clint Eastwood’s influence on my visual aesthetic for this video.

In today’s blog, I’m going to talk about the influence of Ennio Morricone’s film compositions on my recording of “Dance of the High Plains” and how I evoked the vastness of the Altiplano region of South America in the intro section (audio sample toward the end).

Ennio Morricone is one of the most well-known film composers of the 20th century writing over 500 compositions for TV, film and the concert stage. However, it’s his work with Spaghetti Western film director, Sergio Leone, in the 1960s and 1970s for which he is most famous.

Ennio Morricone reviewing a score (yes, that’s what film and orchestral scores look like!)

Ennio Morricone reviewing a score (yes, that’s what film and orchestral scores look like!)

Sergio Leone on the set of A Fistful of Dollars (1964) with Clint Eastwood

Sergio Leone on the set of A Fistful of Dollars (1964) with Clint Eastwood

Spaghetti Westerns are Western films shot and directed in Italy. The genre was spawned by Sergio Leone’s massively successful 1964 film, “A Fistful of Dollars,” which also starred Clint Eastwood in his first leading role. Besides their Italian origins, Spaghetti Westerns are also characterized by their low-budget approach to film-making which forced some new innovations. One way that productions cut costs was by paring down the film scoring. In Hollywood Westerns of the day, composers often utilized expensive orchestras, but Morricone had to make do with more creative effects such has gunshots, horns, voices, whistles and the new electric guitar.

All of Morricone’s tricks are in this video including, at about the :50 mark, a spring-reverb drenched guitar part. If you don’t know what reverb is, check out my blog explaining it. I also wrote a blog on the specific type of reverb used in Spaghetti Western (and Surf Rock) called spring reverb.

I’ve included a demo recording of my version of “Dance of the High Plains.” The introduction in the first minute or so, uses a special type of digital reverb that is meant to sound expansive and dramatic. I will write a separate blog post on that type of reverb, which didn’t exist until the 1980s. But, if you skip to about 1:04, you will hear the same kind of spring reverb that Morricone used in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. I don’t use it as dramatically since the guitar is the only instrument in my recording and I wanted it to come through clearly, but, if you listen for the boing sound on the low notes at about 1:25, you’ll hear the effect more prominently. That boing sound is caused by the sound of the guitar literally traveling through metal springs! …and that’s how Ennio Morricone influenced my recording of “Dance of the High Plains.”

BONUS:

This piece, originally titled, “Danza del altiplano,” was composed for the classical guitar and is based on a Bolivian folk song (which is where the Altiplano region is and which I talk about in Part 1 of my blog series on the making of this music video). This piece also famously appeared in an episode of the Netflix series, The OA. If you want to hear how it sounds on classical guitar compared to my version on the electric guitar, as well as enjoy a great bit of cinematography around this piece, check out the video below.

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Reverb: Analog Classics—Plates and Springs

April 08, 2020  /  Allen Michael

In my last blog, I introduced the concept of reverb—specifically the kind produced in rooms and concert halls. However, I mentioned that recording in a concert hall is not always practical or possible and even larger studio rooms can sound too subtle or uninteresting if you’re looking for a more prominent reverb character. Studio engineers were thus compelled to invent simpler ways of capturing reverb for recordings.

Echo Chambers

One of the ways of “working with what they had” (prior to inventing the dedicated equipment we’ll talk about) was using echo chambers, bathrooms or tiled hallways to capture a dramatic effect. It went something like this:

  • record the singer (or whatever instrument) in a normal vocal booth

  • play the recording through loudspeakers in the echo chamber, bathroom, hallway, etc

  • place microphones away from the speakers to capture the sound reflecting off the surfaces

  • record that sound (aka the “wet” sound) and mix it with the dry recording to find an appropriate balance

The Studio Two echo chamber at the famous Abbey Road Studios. Notice the two microphones placed behind the white columns. These will pick up a stereo sound image from the loud speaker at the center of the room. This recording is sent to the console …

The Studio Two echo chamber at the famous Abbey Road Studios. Notice the two microphones placed behind the white columns. These will pick up a stereo sound image from the loud speaker at the center of the room. This recording is sent to the console in the next room where it is mixed with the “dry” source recording.

Plates

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Dedicated echo chambers, while more convenient than renting a concert hall, were still impractical for many studios around the world that weren’t a huge recording facility. So, in 1957, a German turntable manufacturer, Elektro-Mess-Technik, produced the first plate reverb: the EMT 140. This monstrosity measuring over 8 feet wide and 500+ pounds of wood and metal started a reverb revolution—any decent studio in the world could now fit high-quality reverb into a much smaller space.

Hall reverbs were typically characterized by long decay times, lower frequencies and an overall rich, deep sound. Plate reverbs, on the other hand, have a bright, smooth, dense, sweet, metallic sound that is still a go-to reverb for nearly all recording situations today. Further, while a hall’s reverb characteristics could only be designed prior to construction and were literally “set in stone,” a plate reverb’s characteristics could be modified via dampeners, size and the type of metal used. As cumbersome as they may seem to us today, they were highly versatile, affordable and convenient tools compared to what was available at the time.

A typical plate reverb measures 4’x8’ and weighs over 500 pounds!

A typical plate reverb measures 4’x8’ and weighs over 500 pounds!

As innovative as they were, however, they still were incredibly impractical for live use. After all, what band could or would tour around the country with one of those? (…funny to think about considering the multi-million dollar productions that many pop stars tour with today.) Another kind of reverb had to be invented that a band could take on stage: spring.

Springs

Spring reverbs were invented for use with church organs as early as the 1930s, but the first compact unit, the Type 4 Spring Reverb Unit, was developed in 1960 by Accusonics. This unit was so popular, that it was licensed by Fender for use in their legendary and still highly regarded Twin Reverb guitar amp beginning in 1962. The effect that this invention had on guitar players cannot be overstated; it is perhaps even MORE prevalent today than it was then. In fact, almost all Fender amps worth owning today, including many non-Fender amps, come with a built-in spring reverb tank. Further, the spring reverb sound spawned entire genres of music including surf rock and the Spaghetti Western music of Ennio Morricone, about which I’ve also written a blog. (Compare the surf rock below to the spaghetti western music in my Morricone blog.)

You’ve probably heard this a million times, but listen to the “boingy” sound of the guitar. THAT’S spring reverb!

Yeah, those are literally springs. The sound travels through the springs, gets picked up by magnetic coils at the other end and is sent to the output speaker so you can hear/record it.

Yeah, those are literally springs. The sound travels through the springs, gets picked up by magnetic coils at the other end and is sent to the output speaker so you can hear/record it.

Check out my videos page to hear these reverbs in use. “Julia Blooms” uses a plate reverb with a lush 5 second decay time, and “Dance of the High Plains” (currently available as a demo on the friends page) uses spring reverb after the atmospheric introduction. The next blog in this series will be about digital reverb, which is able to create sounds not possible in the physical world! The intro to “Dance of the High Plains” uses an exotic reverb algorithm developed by Eventide called the “Blackhole.”

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Thoughts on Today

March 21, 2020  /  Zen Ritual

Yesterday, revolution was in the backs of our minds and the tips of our tongues. We are lucky it did not go beyond the tips of our rifles, because today shows us how unprepared we are for radical change. But, whether by blood or illness, radical change is prepared for us.

We are at the beginning of a soft revolution, less gruesome, less swift, but just as transformative. A reset of our collectively broken values. Blame is obsolete. How will you restart? There is a price to pay for this opportunity. A price equal to everything we stand to gain and everything we could lose.

Which part of yourself will you surrender to the winds of change? I would wish to surrender my whole being to the change and become repurposed for a higher purpose less foreseeable even than this could have been. They say necessity is the mother of invention, but, today, we are being reinvented out of necessity.

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An Open Letter to a New Life

March 17, 2020  /  Allen Michael

What’s next?

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I’m writing this because it’s too late. Too late to go back to the old way, which is OK because didn’t the old way kind of suck anyway? And while we certainly had our chance for a better today, it’s too late for that too. Is it too late for a better tomorrow? They call this the new normal, but this sort of disaster has always been normal. History is filled with disease, war and famine on scales we can’t comprehend and have never experienced—and not just in the distant past but the present too, in places too far away for us to care. Well, it’s here now. What’s next?

Peace

Now, more than ever, we must find peace and not panic. I mean, peace has always been the answer, but it’s no longer a multiple-choice test. It’s the only choice. You can either choose peace or perish. And not just passively choose it like, ok yeah peace is the answer. You must MAKE it. Make peace. Make peace with the worsening situation. Make peace with yourself whom you’ve been fighting for too long. Make peace with your neighbor who until now was sooooo different from you, full of endless unforgivable differences. It will become obvious just how irrelevant those differences are now—keep it that way—and how profound the similarities are. Fear of what’s next, vulnerability to forces greater than your control, love for those close to you and the unimaginable possibility of losing them. Make peace with your god, your heart, your spirit, your death, because—whether in one day or one century—you will meet it.

Art

And make art. I’m not talking about finger painting and craft paper. Artists can see beyond the physical world and convey their individual experiences into a tangible form for others to experience. It can be fixed—like a statue, painting, composition, etc—or it can be in the way that you smile, share a moment with someone or practice kindness. Artists know that time is limited and that your vision will be lost forever if it’s not expressed. So, if you love someone, make an art of expressing it. You’ve ignored too many opportunities to do so already and time is ever running out. Love who you love, not with your mind, but your actions. “Not enough time” is no longer an excuse. There is never enough time—all you have is NOW.

So, do it now…express the love you’ve been holding back and see that love is an infinite well. The more you draw from it, the more there will be. Fill your cup and let it overflow into the hearts of every person in your life, for love is the most abundant and ignored resource of all. As it becomes futile and dangerous to fight for slivers, crumbs, seconds and minutes, make peace instead. Find triumph in the moment, express love and share joy. We have ignored our greatest treasures long enough, and now is the time to see to them.

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Reverb: Natural Spaces—Rooms and Halls

February 25, 2020  /  Allen Michael

What is reverb?

If you don’t already know what reverb is, here’s an exercise: find someplace quiet like your bathroom, office, library, church or a nearby canyon. Give your hand a strong, sharp clap with the other, and immediately bring your attention to the sound you hear AFTER the initial clap. That is reverb. Put another way, reverberation is what occurs when sound bounces off multiple surfaces at different times before reaching your ears.

The best natural reverbs are found in acoustic spaces specifically designed to produce a long decay and lush diffusion of sound such as large concert halls and old European churches. However, for the purposes of the scientific art of recording musical sound, such spaces are often impractical or impossible to access.

Nevertheless, capturing a great reverb sound is crucial to a great recording, and audio engineers since the early days of recording have found ingenious ways to emulate and/or produce natural reverb without having to leave the studio. But first, we have to talk about the two most common types of natural reverb used in music: Room and Hall.

Rooms

Rooms are rectangular spaces with 90-degree walls, floors and ceilings. You’re probably sitting in one right now and most of your favorite recordings of all time were probably recorded in one. Rooms are characterized by a fast decay time (the time it takes for the “tail” of the reverb to become inaudible). They also sound the most natural, since that’s where we spend the majority of our time. Due to their relatively small size and quick decay, room reverbs can also be the most subtle. In fact, you may not even notice it on a recording until you take it away. The recording will suddenly lose depth, air and sound like it was recorded in a coffin. Room reverbs are easy and practical to capture. They sound appropriate on nearly any source, but they are also the least interesting and aesthetic of the various reverbs. They are the vanilla of reverb.

National Southwestern recording studio in Las Vegas. Notice the acoustic panels on the ceiling and walls which help prevent sound from bouncing back and forth on the hard surfaces. Notice also the angled wall on the left which helps ensure that refl…

National Southwestern recording studio in Las Vegas. Notice the acoustic panels on the ceiling and walls which help prevent sound from bouncing back and forth on the hard surfaces. Notice also the angled wall on the left which helps ensure that reflections reach the microphone(s) at different times and that no specific frequency is accentuated.

Halls

The next most common type of natural reverb is Hall. Halls are essentially very large rooms but with irregular dimensions. The ceiling, floor and walls may all angle inward towards a stage such as in a concert hall. Or, there may be multiple, curved ceilings at different levels and off-set walls of varying distances from each other such as in an old church. Concert halls often have a darker, lush sound as the higher frequencies of sound are attenuated by distance, acoustic/diffusion panels and other soft surfaces. Also, the reverb time (aka decay or “tail”) is much longer, so the reverb itself is more obvious in a pleasing way. If you were in such a space alone, not only could you literally hear a pin drop on stage, but you would hear a louder sound, such as your clap, reverberate for several seconds before fading back into silence. Halls are the chocolate of reverb: rich, sensual and decadent.

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The Stern Auditorium at the world famous Carnegie Hall in New York City. Notice the curved walls, sloped seating areas and how there are separate portions of the space that become larger moving away from the stage creating a projecting effect. Not o…

The Stern Auditorium at the world famous Carnegie Hall in New York City. Notice the curved walls, sloped seating areas and how there are separate portions of the space that become larger moving away from the stage creating a projecting effect. Not only is this space aesthetically impressive, but there are few interior spaces in the world suitable for recording with such high ceilings. Sure, some high-profile concerts will be recorded on-location, but no recording studio in the world has such large dimensions. You can see why studio engineers would wish to invent ways to achieve this effect in a more practical way.

[High frequencies don’t travel as far as low frequencies and are more easily absorbed by objects they pass through. That’s why, when you’re neighbors are having a party late at night, all you hear is the damn bass. And that’s because lower frequencies have longer wavelengths, so they are able to travel through objects like walls more easily. High frequencies are more directional than low ones, which means they travel in more of a straight line from the source whereas low frequencies emanate in all directions. That’s why sub-woofers can go on the floor behind your couch, but tweeters need to be placed at ear level or point down towards the listener.}

I know this blog was really technical, so please let me know if you found it interesting or not and if you would like me to include some audio/video examples of how these different kinds of reverbs actually sound and why they are important in recording music.

In my next blog in this series, we’ll look at the two most common types of analog reverb equipment that sound engineers developed to emulate large spaces in a fraction of the size: Plates and Springs. If you’d like to be notified when I post a new blog, sign up for my newsletter below.

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categories / Recording
tags / reverb, hall, room, plate, spring, digital reverb, eventide, space

Beyond the Scenes: "Dance of the High Plains" - Part 1 (Leo Brouwer and Clint Eastwood)

February 08, 2020  /  Allen Michael

A young Leo Brouwer sometime in the 1960s

A young Leo Brouwer sometime in the 1960s

Leo Brouwer was born in Havana, Cuba, in 1939, to a highly musical family—his grandfather and grand-uncle were famous composers of the popular music of their time. As a child, Leo grew up surrounded by the hottest pop and folk music, and his home was a revolving door of Cuba’s greatest musicians. However, despite all the excitement of sons, rhumbas, cha cha chas and mambos, Brouwer, perhaps in a rebellious spirit, was instead drawn to “classical” music. By the time he was 12, he as already analyzing—and critiquing—the great symphonies of the European masters. His efforts eventually earned him a cultural exchange double-scholarship to study at the American schools of his choice. He chose to study composition at The Julliard School in New York and guitar at the University of Hartford in Connecticut. We can only imagine what it would have been like for a 20-year-old kid from Havana to experience New York for the first time in 1959. Nevertheless, his experience abroad, education and—of course—talent, earned him a position as director of the Cuban Institute of Art and Cinematography where he would go on to compose countless pieces for film (among countless other accomplishments all over the world).

It should come as no surprise that, shortly thereafter in 1962, he composed a highly cinematic piece for solo guitar entitled Danza del altiplano (“Dance of the High Plains”). Despite his highly disciplined classical training and the avante garde Modernist style permeating the world of the classical music elite (which he would also embrace whole-heartedly), he could not resist incorporating in his music the beautifully melodic and excitingly rhythmic elements of Latin American song and dance which is so sweetly suited to the six strings of the guitar.

The altiplano region of Bolivia

The altiplano region of Bolivia

Whenever I learn a new piece of music and in addition to more formal research, I try to connect the piece to as many of my own personal experiences as possible and take these connections as far I can take them. Sometimes, as in the case of my video for The Golden Vessel, not only do images come to mind, but poetry as well. Other times, I’m limited by my surface-level understanding of a piece and resign myself to an interpretation informed only by the black markings of the composer in the published sheet music. With “Dance of the High Plains,” I couldn’t help connecting it to the 1973 Clint Eastwood classic, High Plains Drifter, which I had seen many years before as a kid. This random and accidental brain synapse connection quickly sparked a concept for a cinematic music video at a level I’ve never attempted.

Clint Eastwood sometime in the 1970s

Clint Eastwood sometime in the 1970s

Me, Death Valley, 2019

Me, Death Valley, 2019

This project is pushing my abilities as a cinematographer, recording producer and engineer, interpreter of classical music, and performer of the amplified steel-string guitar. My recording of Danza del altiplano also best exemplifies this style of performance that I call “vintage classical.”

If you would like to hear this exclusive preview recording, which is still in the demo stages and therefore not yet publicly released, sign up for my mailing list to receive a password to the members-only page on this website. I’ll also notify you when I publish the next blog in this series which will go into greater detail about the sound choices and stylistic influences of the recording and performance as well as diving deeper into this innovative new style of vintage classical that I’m pioneering.

Some stills from Day 1 of filming at Death Valley National Park for my upcoming video, “Dance of the High Plains”

Some stills from Day 1 of filming at Death Valley National Park for my upcoming video, “Dance of the High Plains”

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categories / Repertoire, Video
tags / music, pieces, leo brouwer, clint eastwood, western, altiplano, high plains, drifter, cuba, cuban composer, hollywood, music history, classical guitar, danza del altiplano, boliva, peru

© Allen Michael Music 2024