On Live Music

Photo from Krysti Marie, a fellow concert-goer.

Yesterday, I went to Zelda: Symphony of the Goddesses, a touring concert that celebrates 30 years of music from the Legend of Zelda franchise.

As a longtime fan of the series, I've been excited about going for quite a while. I bought tickets for (literally) the best seats in the Warner Theatre in Washington, DC. I replayed several games in the series over the course of the past year. I listened to my favorite Zelda songs during my commute to work. But it's not like I did these things just in preparation for the concert; I am a sincere fan of Zelda, having played every non-CD-i game in the series. I've watched every single substantive commentary on Breath of the Wild at least once, including the several hours of streaming done by the Nintendo Treehouse and the two hour analysis from GameXplain. So you might well expect that my experience of the concert would be extremely positive.

Unfortunately, I found the experience disappointing. This isn't because the concert wasn't good. Nearly everyone around me in the theater raved about it, not just by clapping enthusiastically and exclaiming loudly how happy they were when their favorite game of the series came up in the concert, but also by several people after the concert coming up to me organically, wanting to talk about the experience with a stranger they had experienced this event with.

No, my disappointment was not with the quality of the concert, but with the concept of listening to live music itself. This was my first time going to listen to a concert for the purpose of listening to the music. I think I may have sat in a park while music was playing or went to support a friend as they played a small venue, but I've never actually gone with the intention of actually listening to the music being played.

As I sat in what very well may have been the best seat in the theatre, I found myself realizing that the songs I was hearing were songs that I already listen to. Those songs I played during my commute to work were nearly identical to the ones being played at the concert. It's then that I realize that I've already been listening to these songs this entire time, and if I closed my eyes to hear the music, all I could think was "this feels just like I'm on my way to work".

I'm not sure what I was expecting. Lots of people have favorite artists, and they often love to go to live concerts where the artist plays a song that they already have a better quality version of on their phone. What are they getting out of such events? I honestly am not too sure. It can't be the music, as the music is better in recorded form. Is it the company?

To be fair, it was fun to see people cosplaying as various Zelda characters. But even though I do love Zelda, I don't really identify with this crowd at all. For me, playing Zelda is primarily an experience in isolation. Even when it comes to multiplayer Zelda games, I've strongly preferred playing with close friends over the trolls that join public online games of Tri-Force Heroes. I don't see myself acting as a fan in the same sense as the way others were acting at that concert. Perhaps it is because I'm more comfortable being more reserved. Maybe I'm just not as into fan culture. But if being in a group with other fans is what people get out of live music events, then it just isn't for me.

Yet when I mentioned these thoughts aloud, I got back the objection: "That's not what live music is about. Live music is better than recorded music." And here is where I am most confused. The symphonic performers at the concert I went to were quite good. They were so good, in fact, that it reminded me exactly of the recorded versions I'd heard dozens of times before. Their sameness in sound is part of what made the experience dull for me.

Would I have preferred if I could have heard more errors in their performance? Or maybe what I would want is some kind of improvisation?

When I look to something like Michelangelo's David, I'm impressed. But when I look at recently made statues of similar realism, I am unimpressed. I think this is mostly because the skill needed to create such a statue in the past is nothing like the skill needed to do so in the present. Yes, there is still skill in the posing. But the David required working around the good parts of the material, understanding how to scale up the dimensions realistically, understanding the center of gravity, understanding the proper width of needed hidden trusses. Meanwhile a modern statue can be made by scanning a model, scaling it up, and having a laser cut each part perfectly from a piece of marble that is predetermined to perfectly work with those cuts. It still takes skill, but of a different sort. And if you try to do it the old way, it just seems silly to me. Why not take advantage of modern methods to make the finished product better?

So it seems to me with live music. Being able to record multiple performances and edit them into a final product just seems better to me. Sure, mp3s are lossy, but if you use a lossless format and high quality headphones, then I suspect you get the best experience. Far better than live music, which requires you to have to go somewhere in public (ugh, the traffic) and doesn't have the amenities that you may have at home (when I asked for a cola, they said they were out and offered diet cola instead).

With all this said, I do want to say that most everyone else enjoyed the concert. And the venue was pretty good. Having in-seat service is a big plus, even if it was fairly expensive. So if you're considering going to Zelda: Symphony of the Goddesses, then you shouldn't use my experience as a strong reason not to go.

But the Warner Theatre did run out of dessert before the concert even began, and there was the lack of non-diet cola in the VIP room. All in all, I think I can confidently say that I never intend to go to a live music event again, and if I do, I probably won't do it at the Warner. It just isn't for me.

I think I'll stick to plays instead. I'm looking forward to when Hamilton comes to the Kennedy center.

Julio Koko Sosa

Yesterday, tío Julio "Koko" Sosa died. His passing came more quickly than I expected.

Julio was a master of the guitar. I was always mesmerized anytime he would play during one of our family get-togethers. The entire family will miss him greatly.

Julio performed, composed, and arranged for hundreds of recordings, concerts, and festivals over the years. He is well remembered in his hometown.  Until very recently, he taught regularly in DC. Some of his students upload their covers of his songs on youtube. You can see him perform at the Kennedy Center below, or in El Salvador in the embedded video below that.

Why I Listen To Music

I had twenty-two hours of sleep last night. 

I have three more final exams, but I'm not worried about them. At least not compared to how I was worried about my theology final; thank God I got that out of the way. 

Anyway, at this point, I'm supposedly studying for my finals tomorrow. I even have my book open, and I actually look at it every few minutes or so. But no true studying is going on. Rather, I am sitting here typing in my journal and chatting with my friends. 

Anyway, AngelGorge asked me a few questions for his anthropology paper, and I thought it might be relevant to put here. 

Angelgorge: Why do you listen to music?
Eric J Herboso: That depends on which music I'm listening too. Most often, I listen to instrumental big band jazz, and I do so as background music. I prefer the feelings that come from music than the silence that otherwise is present.
Angelgorge: Does music make you feel things? What does it make you feel?
Eric J Herboso: Again, it depends on the music. There are some songs that just naturally provoke emotion, and given a sufficiently talented composer, any emotion at all can be evoked.
Eric J Herboso: Also, sometimes I can associate feelings with music, even if the music itself did not innately cause me to feel such an emotion.
Angelgorge: Is music a spiritual experience for you?
Eric J Herboso: I dislike the term spiritual. But I would say that music causes me to feel things that I cannot adequately describe in languages as vulgar as English. It takes the language of music to explain the nature of music.
Angelgorge: Can you define "spiritual"?
Eric J Herboso: That depends on the definition of 'define'. I can give a dictionary definition. I can say what it is in a sufficient enough manner to explain the concept to someone who is familiar with the concept and just doesn't know the word for it.
Eric J Herboso: But I can't define it to someone who has no concept of what 'spiritual' means. 

::sigh:: 

I meant to put something more on here tonight, but I have to go. I'll write later.

A Percussionist's Thoughts

When I was very young (probably around five or so), my father bought me a drum set. At the time, he played guitar often with his friend Kenneth, and I believe he thought that by buying me such an instrument at such a young age, I might be able to become good enough at drumming to play with him and his buddies. Unfortunately, very soon after, his work became overbearing, and he played guitar less and less often, and I thusly played the drums very rarely, and never really got very good at them.

Now fast forward a few years. I attended Robert E. Lee Elementary in Satsuma, Alabama from third grade to fifth grade. In my final year there, the Nelson Adams Middle School band in Saraland, AL came by to recruit new band members for the upcoming year. I was interested, so I signed up for drums, since I obviously already had a drum set. I didn't know it at the time, but the decision made then in fifth grade to become a drummer in middle school was one of the most influential moments of my life.

You see, before this time, I spent the majority of my time either with my parents, my grandparents, or my two friends, Jeremy and Gregory. I was friends with Jeremy because he lived next to my parents' house, and I was friends with Gregory because he lived next to my grandparents' house. I didn't really listen to music with either of my friends, so I didn't come to like music through them. Neither did I learn to like music at my grandparents' house -- they both preferred the television to any particular radio station. And at my own parents' house, I listened only to what my parents listened to, namely rock and very light metal. As you can well see from this, I wasn't exactly very cultured in music at all.

But because I went into percussion in middle school, I became exposed to music the likes of which I had never even considered before. I fell in love with classical music from the very beginning. Soon after, I became aware of other styles, most notably big band jazz. And because my ears were finally open, I searched out even more diverse music and found that the world of music is just as wonderful and entertaining as any other art form could ever hope to be.

Having the teacher that I did really helped a lot. My band director's name was Mr. David Ellis, and he was in my opinion the best that a band director can actually be. During my years there, he put together a symphonic and jazz band so good that when I transferred over to the Satsuma High School band, I could tell that I was taking a step down, rather than up. In fact, our middle school band was so impressive that we were actually invited to play at Carnegie Hall. It was quite an honor.

However, I personally was never really all that good as a drummer. Some that I have talked to blame my teacher, but I do not, especially considering what he did with the rest of the band. You see, in those days I got straight A's on my report cards without even trying, and I rarely worked hard for anything in my life. Because I was brought up having it so easy, I never really learned that you have to work for some things. That is why I believe I wasn't very good at drums. I will admit that Mr. Ellis rarely spent any time working with the drummers during my middle school days, but that is understandable, as most band directors have an inner dislike for the percussion section. Personally, I believe that is why percussionists make the best band directors -- but that is really just idle speculation, and I have nothing more than circumstantial proof to back that argument.

As a drummer, I was not required to do or learn as much as any of the other students did, and I believe that is what made me stick with it. I honestly believe that if I had chosen trumpet instead, I would have been too discouraged by not being the best in class, and I would have quit. Being a drummer really helped in that respect since all of the other drummers were really much worse than I was, with the exception of Dustin (who eventually quit) and Trent Geringer, but the subject of Trent is another story entirely.

Because of the obvious lack of attention generally brought to the drummers, after I quit high school, I decided to help out in my old middle school. The new band teacher there is named Ron Thacker, and I knew him previously from his work as assistant band director at Satsuma High School during my sophomore year. My argument was simple: in middle school, the director has to teach the entire class a great deal, but more so for the horns and woodwinds than for percussion. Percussionists don't need to learn scales; rather, they should spend their time learning more challenging time signatures and more advanced notation techniques, as well as chop building. A single band director is really unequipped to handle such things, because when he works the group all at once, he has to stay at the lowest common denominator for the whole class, and almost by definition, the drummers are going to be innately held back. Therefore, Mr. Thacker allowed me to help him out in the classroom one day a week with the drummers. It was a fun time, but it got pretty complicated after a while for a volunteer job, so I stopped doing it.

I miss teaching them. If I could do it again and get paid $15 an hour for two hours a week for it, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I'm too cheap to volunteer there any longer.

I wonder if this makes me greedy...

::sigh:: I hope not.