Tag Archives: album

Decrescendo

Decrescendo: (n) a gradual reduction in force or loudness.

“Don’t just play it—feel it. And after you feel it, control it.”

I heard these words in my head decades ago during a writing session, when I was constructing a song list for a new album.

I had reached a certain level of aptitude, where it was understood that I would write, perform and a proficiency would follow.

But somewhere along the way I lost sight of the dynamics of music and how my passion could turn an average song into a masterpiece of musical ecstasy.

It’s true.

Sometimes I forget.

I start believing that if I hit the marks—play fast, loud, soft or determined—then the music will do the rest.

We give too much credit to music and not enough honor to arranging the alluring passages into a magnet for human emotions.

Sometimes you just need to slow down.

Often times, you get softer–to make a point.

It’s true in music.

And it certainly is true that life, itself, requires the occasional decrescendo.

 

Chapel

Chapel: (n) a small building for Christian worship

It was only five miles from my home town.

It was a small, clapboard building, which held no more than ninety people. But when my place of birth found out that my girlfriend and I were pregnant, and they began expressing their disapproval over our immoral carnality, I escaped to that little refuge, starting my music career.

It was pastored by a fellow who was no more than eight years my senior, and he was either oblivious to the gossip about me or had enough rebellion left over from his teen years that he didn’t care. The people of the church took a liking to me, even though some of them disapproved of my long hair and my decision not to join the American work force.

I wrote my first song for that church.

I had my first public performance with my group in that church.

I stored my equipment in a downstairs closet.

I rehearsed there two or three times a week.

They even gave me a key so I could come and go at my own pace.

I held my first revival in that chapel.

And when I got signed by a Nashville recording company and made my album, I came back and debuted my success in front of the congregated in the chapel. That morning the house was packed–about a hundred folks–and everybody was just as overwhelmed with joy as I was.

Although later on the pastor became more religious and therefore a bit more judgmental and we parted ways, I will never forget that little building and how much it meant to me as a haven of escape from the demands of becoming a budding man, and the criticism of the locals.

 

 

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

Bronchitis

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Bronchitis: (n) inflammation of the mucous membrane in the bronchial tubes.

Odd as it may seem, the only way to stay well is to have been sick enough to build up antibodies to protect you.Dictionary B

It’s a strange system, isn’t it?

But without equity, some of us would believe that being ill was a sign of God’s anger, while others would conclude that clear nasal passages were a divine authorization to act superior.

So we all get sick.

It’s all about the timing.

When I was in my twenties, I recorded an album in Nashville, Tennessee, that started to get some attention. That in itself was remarkable, but then, when our group was invited to perform at a huge festival, our producers were nearly ecstatic, and were sure that this was the stepping stone to give us the focus to launch our career.

We planned the set, rehearsed the material–and somewhere along the line in the process, I got bronchitis.

I was so congested, choked up and stuffed that I was unable to produce any sound from my voice beyond a harsh whisper.

I tried everything.

Hot steam, over-the-counter remedies, honey and lemon and various configurations of prayer.

I stubbornly refused to cancel the festival, deciding that I would heroically see it through–that somehow or another, God in His infinite wisdom would grant me voice at the last moment.

In front of thousands of people, I croaked out what could have been our hit song–had I not been “Froggy McFrog.”

It was embarrassing.

No–humiliating.

Even those who loved me didn’t want to be around me. It made them try to be nice–and they didn’t feel nice.

So to some degree, from that point on in my life (since I kind of make my living from my voice) I have become a Cold Nazi.

If a sniffle is in the room or a child is dripping nasal fluid all over the house, I run away in horror.

I am not proud of that.

But my bout with bronchitis did warn me about the danger … of not having a voice in the matter.

 

Donate Button

Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

 

 

Booth

Booth: (n) a small temporary tent or structure at a market or a fair

Gullible.Dictionary B

It’s a word we all probably hate. No one wants to be gullible. Yet to be a human being with any sense of blooming hope, you will occasionally find yourself cast into the role of the gullible goose.

I had just recorded an album. I was very proud of it. Our music group had worked a long time to get signed with a small company which took a chance on our musical efforts.

After the initial thrill of the recording and release of the product came a chilling stillness.

It may surprise you, but the world didn’t really care that we cut an album.

So when I was told there was going to be a huge musical festival at a nearby arena, and there were still a few booths available for purchase where I could set up my albums and promote them to the tens of thousands of people filing through, I quickly counted my nickels and pennies procured from my freshly assassinated piggy bank.

I was so excited–especially when one of the promoters told me that the money I invested in the opportunity would be trebled.

The day arrived.

I dressed up according to what I thought I should look like to draw some attention–as did the rest of our group. We sat in our booth waiting to be inundated by potential fans.

But all around us were hundreds of other booths, occupied by folks who were much better known, advertised and certainly provided superior signage.

In the seven hours we sat in that booth, eighteen people stopped by. When I answered for the seventeenth time, “What is this?” I realized I had made a severe mistake.

A booth is a great place to display your wares if it’s something people really want.

And a booth is a terrible place to be if you’re offering something that no one cares about.

 

Donate ButtonThank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix 

Jonathan’s Latest Book Release!

PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant

Click here to get your copy now!

PoHymn cover jon

 

 

Album

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

 

Album: (n) 1. a blank book for the insertion of photographs, stamps or pictures 2. a collection of recordings on a long-playing record, cassette or compact disc, which then is issued as a single item.

God, I wanted to make an album.

I was twenty years old and obsessed with the idea.

There was something about the final front cover, backliner notes and the whole idea of being in a recording studio that just rang my bells and clanged my cymbals.

There were a few problems:

  • First and foremost, I suppose, was that I was broke.
  • Second was the absence presently of the major talent to warrant such a maneuver.
  • Third and most pronounced was that I didn’t have a group.

Being extremely immature, I opted to address the third problem while ignoring the other two.

I started a band with members who were just as possessed as I was with the notion of “going vinyl.” We rehearsed for twenty minutes and for forty minutes talked about how much fun it was going to be to be famous. We finally put together the magic number of ten songs, and begged and pleaded with relatives for donations for our project.

We finally pieced together enough money to pay for the first ten hours in a studio, with no idea how we would pay for the rest.

It seemed like a good plan–mainly because we were crazy.

There was a studio in our town that not only recorded records, but had a plant which pressed the final product right on site. We acquired a very reasonable photographer (free) who shot our cover and back cover, and we spent all of our time writing the liner notes instead of rehearsing for the session.

So when we got in the studio and they played back what we sounded like, we were convinced that the tape they had used was warped–causing our voices to go flat.

We got better. Of course, it cost studio time. So at the end of the session, we had a pretty decent record, but owed $723 to get our magical mission released into our greedy paws.

Now, $723 to us was either going to be achieved by killing off all of our parents and inheriting the money, or breaking into the recording studio and stealing our record. After about two weeks of nasty phone calls from the studio, they finally negotiated a deal so that we could pay off our album in installments.

We finally had it in our hands. It was magical. It was the Holy Grail.

It didn’t sell.

So not only did we never pay back the studio, but we eventually had to give away all of our albums to people who kept insisting they already had one.

My fortunes in the recording industry have improved over the years, but I will never forget stalking my first album. It was like the night of your honeymoon, mingled with your first trip … to Baskin Robbins.