Step up to the microphooooone - Microphoners and Microphonees!

For the record, a microphone (mike or mic) is an acoustic to electric transducer or sensor that converts sound into an electrical signal. Wikipedia notes, “They are used in a variety of applications such as telephones, tape recorders, hearing aids, motion picture production, live and recorded audio engineering, in radio and television broadcasting and in computers for recording voice…and for non-acoustic purposes such as ultrasonic checking.” Microphones come in a variety of types, e.g., condenser, dynamic, ribbon, carbon, crystal, laser, …ok, enough already.

The technical part is not as fascinating to me as the practical or applicable part of actually using the thing, hence, the “step up to the microphone!” title. Because when you do…it is going to project your voice so it is spread throughout an area, however small or large. I’ve noticed several different types of microphoners (not a word, but making up words and using them as legit is fun). However, one caveat before I list them. Admittedly at times, I myself have used or have fallen into some of the categories listed below.

Microphoner 1: “I Can’t Hear Myself”

Yes, you can’t hear yourself because the mic is a sensitive piece of equipment that will pick up a lot of background noise instead of your voice because YOU'RE HOLDING THE SAID OBJECT TWO FEET AWAY FROM YOUR MOUTH! So instead of hearing you, we’re hearing the crash of the drums, the off notes of the trombone, the high pitched cymbals of Mr. Energizer on the drums, AND the voices of the folks who are…making a joyful noise to the Lord. Note: it won’t work as intended unless it is two fingers away from your mouth (this does not apply to condenser mics).

Microphoner 2: “I’m afraid this thing will actually pick up my voice”

Okay, then what are you doing with it in your hand? You're holding it away from you like it is a snake about to bite you, your face is all contorted up, your visage has lost all its color, and it looks like you're going to fall over. You're really giving the audience confidence. They are so worried about you, they’ve completely forgotten to worship and their fingers are itching to hit the 911 buttons on their cell phones. Note: it won’t work as intended unless it is two fingers away from your mouth (and you must practice enough so that you’re not afraid of bouncing off key notes and tones around the “area”).

Microphonee’s 3: “I’m Milli Vanilli”

Exactly. You're moving your lips and may even appear to be really into what you're doing, BUT YOU'RE JUST MOVING YOUR CHOPS! What is so ironic about this one? The sound guy usually gets blamed. Mr./Miss Director stomps off the platform to inform sound guy that the altos are non-existent in the mix. Sound guy politely states, “No problem, I’ll work on it”…when in fact he is thinking “yes, we do have a problem and it is with YOUR singers because there is absolutely no signal coming through the microphoners!” Note: it won’t work as intended unless it is two fingers away from your mouth (and you can play that game for awhile, but it will eventually catch up to you Fab and Rob).

Microphoner 4: “I’m Singing loud and proud”

Right you are. Your two fingers away alright, and you're blasting over everyone and everything else because you’ve got the technical genius to know where the mic should be, but you don’t understand the dynamic nature of what is called the “blend.” Again, the sound guy gets the blame for this one with, “Hey, what are you - a doofus that doesn’t know how to mix?!” In reality, if the sound levels are the same, it is the responsibility of the singers to dynamically mesh their voices by controlling the distant range of the mic. I know…I know…you will always hear, “But I can’t hear myself in the blend.” Unless you’re a lead vocal, we don’t want to hear you in the “blend” because that is what makes the “blend” a “blend.” Note: it won’t work unless it is two fingers away from your mouth (and you do have some dynamic control of that distance).

Since I’ve already taken the words that Ron did not utilize in his piece, and since I am 300+ words over my allotment, I will not discuss the microphoners “I’m fading in and out,” and “I’ve got my hand wrapped around the head of the mic so that I minimize the effectiveness of capturing the entire sound spectrum and now only hear the high frequency, but hey, I look like I know what I’m doing.”

Mic technique is an important, learned ability…and I’m sure there are other microphoners out there. Feel free to add to my list.

Blindsided By His Own Commitment To Trade With Kevin Bradford, Mr. Giesecke Makes Amends By Fielding Questions From His 3rd Grade Picture, Mr. Doofus

How for did you get to play the guitar for the PAVE-y thing?

Answer: The sheer hand of Providence, I guess. I think I’ve been fortunate to enjoy a windfall in Pentecost that doesn’t exist in the world: A shortage of guitar players. Being that the Fender Stratocaster is just now shedding its direct, mental association with mindless, procreative fornication at Woodstock, I’m grateful that my skills are already developed to fill positions like this. Plus, this insubordinate thatch of white hair on my 40-year-old head makes me look eccentric and artsy, despite my complete lack of artistic caliber.

Why for did you buy a pennywhistle and try to learn it a lot by blowing?

Answer: Because I just attended a concert by Bela Fleck and the Flecktones. With the one exception that I once owned a saxophone, I’d never been drawn to wind instruments much. Then I saw Jeff Coffin--the prodigious sax player-and generally virtuosic wind-section guy playing a high-d whistle. I thought it was cool. So I bought one for eight bucks on EBay this week. And now, my street cred has gone up markedly since I learned to play the piped intro to the Titanic theme song by Celine Dion.



What for is that stuff dripping out the end of your whistle-flute?

Answer: Saliva. I’m trying to figure out how to turn that little phenomenon from grotesque collateral damage into sincere theatrical value. Right now, my extended play on the thing makes me look like one of those vintage, PenZoil puncture-funnels with no perceived recipient.

Why for did you by a violin on CraigList for $50?

Answer: Because I’ve always known I could instantly play Paganini’s Caprice No. 5 with zero mistakes the minute I picked up the instrument. Oh, and also because the entire setup would have cost me seven-hundred dollars more, had I not found it there.



Why for do you not like the hip-hop and the rappy stuff?

Answer: Because I’ve never felt that “hip-hop,” as it were, could ever absolve itself of the chronic narcissism required to make itself palatable for gospel music. If the musical protagonist had no burning need to incessantly inform you that he or she was “in the house,” then there would be no need to point at oneself repeatedly while smirking a lot, either. Besides, I’ve always had trouble envisioning Jesus, asking the disciples to “wave their hands in the air” and to furthermore wave them “like they just don’t care.”



Why for you ask me to do this for you?

Answer: I have no idea. Maybe I have a latent need to vet one of the more ridiculous, iconic avatars that has marred my self esteem the minute my father laughed at me.

An Actual Post Will Appear On Sunday

I forgot I told Kevin Bradford that I'd switch him time slots while he's on vacation. Then, I remembered when I was at work tonight, and crafted a whimiscal logrolling session with my third grade, photographic doppelganger.

Then, like a dunce, I left it at work. So tomorrow, I'll go get it, and toss it up here. And I will remove this announcement, too. I can't have bad form congealing here too much.

--Ron Giesecke

Meditation

One of my favorite sets of compositions for classical piano is “Songs Without Words,” by Felix Mendelssohn. Comprised of 48 lyrical pieces, relatively short in length, and covering a wide range of characters, it is, to me, a delightful escape. When asked about the curious title, Mendelssohn stated, “Even if, in one or other of them, I had a particular word or words in mind, I would not want to tell anyone, because the same word means different things to different people. Only the songs say the same thing, arouse the same feeling, in everyone – a feeling that can’t be expressed in words.” Though this post is not about instrumental music, I find in Mendelssohn’s words an understanding of the power of words to impress, to guide, to speak.

I love a good lyric. People who can craft a beautiful, compact line – well, forgive me, but I must admit, I’m envious. You know – those kinds of lyrics that give you the same feeling as if you were in a dark room, the light came on and someone was standing directly in front of you a foot away. Those are the kind I love – the kind that I rewind over and over until I wear a groove in the CD, the kind that arrest my thoughts. Lately I’ve heard God speak to me so clearly through song. (Sometimes it’s easy to just sing a song and not hear the message.) Hymns, choruses, you name it. I’m amazed (I wonder why?) how it all works, how a particular lyric, possibly written hundreds of years ago or even just yesterday, can speak truth into my situation. Last week in chapel at Gateway, a group of students sang a re-arrangement of “Jesus Paid It All” that spoke to me afresh, though I’d heard it many times before:

And when, before the throne, I stand in Him complete,
“Jesus died my soul to save,”
My lips shall still repeat.”

Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe.
Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow.

Complete. Complete because of Him - not my accomplishments, my relationships, my degrees, or my possessions. Simply because of Him.

Or what about this one:
Could we with ink the ocean fill
And were the skies of parchment made.
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade.
To write the love of God above would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole, though stretched from sky to sky.

O love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure.
The saints’ and angels’ song.
To grasp and express the dimensions of God’s love – we all know that’s just not possible. But to pen words like these – I think that’s the closest one could ever come.

Finally, one of my current favorites just blew me away the first time I heard it. Written and sung by the inimitable Babbie Mason on her CD “Right Where You Are”, the song is entitled “The Spirit is Willing (But The Flesh Is Weak). Here are a few lines:
I turn my eyes and look within
To deeply grieve for all I see
Your love compels me to surrender
I lay my burdens at your feet, your feet.

So I abandon my ambitions vain,
And I take up Your cross,
O bless that sweet exchange.
Never let me be moved from this divine retreat.
For the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak….

So, set down with your favorite bunch of songs, choruses or hymns. Read them, absorb them, and meditate on them. You just might hear the voice of God afresh, speaking truth.

Who Am I?

Greetings!

I am a "First Tuesday" Blogger. I understand I was supposed to do an "intro" post, before my initial post. I am sorry to have overlooked that courtesy. I will write about music, of course. Of particular interest to me are intersections of music, culture, and worship.

Let's see . . . So much to tell, so little space to tell it . . . Where to begin?

When I was a senior in high school, I prayed about where I should go to college and what I should major in. Shortly after that I felt led to major in music. I studied piano and voice for four years and eventually landed a job in computers. Not exactly where I thought I would end up! Along the way, I found my way to a Pentecostal Church and also met the woman who would become my wife. It has been a difficult road for me at times, a classically trained pianist, thrown into the unfamiliar world of playing by ear. I am learning to play all over again!

I recently went through a master's program at the Urshan Graduate School of Theology (distance learning), enjoying it very much. I wouldn't mind going on for another degree at some point, but so expensive not to mention time consuming!

My little boy just turned two and has an unbeatable smile. I am fortunate to be able to take care of him every Tuesday (my wife and I both work outside the home). So here we are! Thank you for the opportunity to dialogue with you.

"It's the RECAP, It's the RECAP"

I know this is the Notes section and you were wanting:

a) A deep thought about the growth of music in the ranks of Pentecostaldom

b) An argument that heralds the "new" sacred music over the established hymns (not on your life...I'm not wrestling that tar baby)

c) Something-or-other about music (If I had an "a" and a "b" I guess I should probably have a "c"). But if y'all don't mind I'm gonna recap General Conference since it is still the lingering thought in our world as it was held here in Tampa, Florida. Wednesday night at church we watched the DVD of our choir singing during the Home Missions service Saturday night. For many churches it would be hard to understand how ANYONE from the home church would have missed it, but as Bro Crawford Coon put so eloquently before introducing us (big gulp here) "Most of these have never been to a DISTRICT Conference, let alone a GENERAL CONFERENCE!!" He also went on to tell the audience we bought our robes off of Ebay. Though hilarious, my brother-in-law Anthony Ballestero, the pastor, said he never meant the comment to be used for mass consumption. Oh well, it was sorta funny.

The workers at the SPTF were so nice and accommodating. One of the Forum ushers was so concerned about our ladies walking around in high heels and slipping on any slippery floor from the melting ice below the flooring. He was always walking around with rugs to put down. One of the sound engineers brought us bottled waters he personally bought from the machine during the Ladies Day rehearsal. One security checkpoint attendant remarked that our group was peaceful and non combative. I'm always concerned about our host city and their reaction. I'm also really concerned that we behave in a manner that's befitting.

So I was suppose to have met Kent Curry at some point that week. An easy enough exercise seeing that his wife said he was chained to the PPH booth. Only since the booth was not in the actual St. Pete Time Forum where the services were being held I was not able to meet our glorious leader. Once I hobbled over to the Tampa Convention Center where the booths were, only to be told it was closed at 11 p.m. Another time I came three hours early for church in hopes of checking out the exhibits only to be herded out the door for a another practice session. You see my conference consisted of one tiny room stage left of the platform called (hilariously) Studio 54. Every day I was ushered through Guest Entrance D into what looks like a warehouse until you see snippets of the platform and then into this tiny room with various music equipment, some microphones that haven't been out of that room since the '80's and for some reason a huge Goodyear blimp hanging from the ceiling (probably used for camera work during games). This was literally the room I spent my General Conference. I ate meals there (if you consider a bag of peanuts and room temperature water a meal...well I DID SINCE I NEVER GOT TO EAT all week!), sent text messages to all my friends as to why I would not be going out to eat with them, slept there (in between teaching the tenor and alto their parts) and I would have dressed there had it not been for the Ladies locker room down the hall. Two nights I brought all my stuff and changed in there. Not exactly The Westin but not exactly a truck stop either.

I realize that my diatribe sounds much like complaint. I hear the echoes of your clicking fingertips as you leave a comment about it truly being an honor to serve and to sing for such an auspicious occasion. I don't want to misrepresent myself and sound like a whiner. I am a whiner. I am whining. It was an honor and I am blessed to serve. I am humbled to serve. There is, however, a deep sense of loneliness associated with this type of serving. I have answered several emails and comments from my Myspace from family and friends telling me it was good to see me....on the Jumbotron. I wasn't able to see friends or go out to eat and for a 98% Sanguine that is somewhat tragic. For many home missionaries, missionaries, and those who just don't have the ability to travel and see loved ones very often General Conference is the only time to reconnect or even to see what is going on in the world outside your district. Many times after they finally dismissed the praise singers off the platform I made a lonely trek back to the Westin where my husband's family was waiting with pizza or burgers since it would be too late to go out. During this painful walk in ridiculous high heels I would think about the evening and what could have been better, thank God for what did go well, for the service, for the ability to serve and ask Him to fill the small crater that forms in your soul sometimes after you have given out in ministry. I have heard many times from anointed preachers and singers that they have to cover themselves in prayer after giving out in ministry because they feel so vulnerable. One award winning quiz coach I knew from the West Coast said that whatever text they were studying, the enemy would try to test him in. Any time you avail yourself in this manner you are susceptible to this.

While waiting to the side of the platform, outside Studio 54, I got to see the missionary children and their parents waiting to bring in their flags and take their seat. I got to see men and women we consider our heroes and though Bro Mark Johnston note that they are not necessarily celebrities, they are still highly visible. But before the fabulous lighting illuminated their faces and they put on their required smiles, I saw them pray, I saw the worried looks on their faces as they pointed here and there giving instruction. I saw them hoping that it would all turn out alright. I saw the evening preachers going over their notes. I saw the service coordinators giving last minute instructions. It wasn't glamorous. It was probably the Real General Conference.

Is it a sin to listen to Scriabin?

Ten or fifteen years ago I spent a couple hundred dollars on a new mountain bike. Every so often I would take it out, ride a couple miles and think "if only I could guarantee I would ride it, I'd get a really nice road bike." But then I wouldn't touch the “cheap” (relatively speaking) mountain bike again for years. Last month, after much hand-wringing I finally broke down and bought the bike of my dreams (used), a Bianchi SL3. Sometimes the actual investment propels action. I am pleased to report a dozen or so rides over recent weeks.

What does this have to do with music, Scriabin, or spirituality, you may ask?

Good question.

I enjoy listening to my iPod while cycling. In fact, it's hard to imagine what life was like before I had nearly my entire 500+ CD music library within thumb's reach. A few years of my life b.c. revolved largely around classical music (I'm a pianist, by trade) and so my music library reflects that heavy influence. Even today, ten years after my conversion to Pentecostalism, I listen to classical much more often than gospel music.

Recently, I dialogued with Ann Ahrens on the subject of ungodly classical music. Alexander Scriabin was a late 19th-century Russian composer who in later years grew increasingly interested in pagan mysticism. Ann had mentioned to me her difficulty in playing his music, and I wondered aloud tongue-mostly-in-cheek whether it was a sin to listen to his music. We went back and forth, discussing also the godly music of Bach and the ungodly music of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. In our dialogue I had expressed concern about a manifestation of evil I had thought might exist in Stravinsky's "Rite" based on an experience that could be described as "terrifying." One late night during my teen years, I had the CD playing as I was going to sleep. During a frightening moment in the piece, the music was incorporated into a nightmare I was having. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) I don't remember more.

Ann and I didn't come to any conclusions, though, regarding the existence of evil in music. Shortly after our dialogue I spent a bike ride home listening to Rite of Spring again (it had been years since I gave it a careful listen). This time around I didn't experience or associate any "evil" spirit in the music although I did imagine at one point a frenzied dance of false-god worshippers around a fire. But then I turned my imagination to this music in a biblical context. I envisioned Abraham's long slow ascent to the top of the mountain where he was supposed to kill Isaac and the moment of truth where he actually raised the knife in obedience to God's command.

Last week I downloaded Scriabin's complete preludes from iTunes and gave a few of them a listen. I did not experience any spiritual discomfort from the experience. What do we use to discern good from evil in music, particularly music without a specific "program"? Is it simply a personal judgment call based loosely on your perception of the composer/artist's spirituality? Shouldn't there be something more concrete? Or, to cast a slightly different shade on the subject, does or can "absolute music" (i.e. music without lyrics or a story) glorify God? If so, is the onus of worship on the part of the performer, the listener, both or neither?

My iPod cost double the mountain bike, and my road bike doubled even the iPod. How can I justify such expensive personal frivolities? Are either of these “things” doing anything for the glory of God's Kingdom? Not really. But they did give legs to this post, so perhaps that's something.