A rare occurrence for my YouTube channel is for a video to get over 1000 views. While my 'Dark Souls III - Dragonslayer Armour with Eygon of Carim summon [NG]' video has received 8.7k views since I uploaded it 9 years ago, this little ditty of a folk song I wrote while I was relief teaching in my hometown of Gisborne/Tūranganui-a-Kiwa on the East Coast of the North Island in Aotearoa, comes in second with 1.7k views. 
 
A bit of a surprise, really, considering the song is in two odd time signatures, usually only found in Classical Music or Progressive Rock songs. The verses feature and 11/8 rhythmic figure based around E and a slide into C#m9, that descends down through A, Amaj7, and F#m as the verse progresses through the lyrics. The chorus is a simple 7/8 using basic A, E, and B chords. Although this entire structure works, more or less, like binary composition (A, B), with 4 reiterations, the lyrical contents of the verses help to progress the song forward. 

Starting with the title 'Hello Morning' the lyrics describe a protagonist rising at dawn, embracing the sunlight and bringing flowers to the windowsill for the sun to bring its light into their world. This embracing of the world continues on, first with the partner and reassuring them that 'Love will never let you down', then to a cobblestone path, the metaphor for life's journey; and finally, the day has passed and the protagonist looks up at the stars, to consider them as friends while bringing 'telescopes and observant eyes' to gaze and let the light of the stars into their world. 

This last verse is, in all its simpleness, is what I like the most about the song. A journey from dawn to dusk and meeting the darkness with the light that is offered, and accepting it as a friend. In other words, whatever troubles are in your life, there is always light somewhere that can be found and love embraced. 

It is a simple song, with odd time signatures rooted in a rhythmic feel, proving songs don't have to just be in 4/4 all the time, or in standard song structures; that they can have odd twists to their foundations and structures, and still be appealing to many listeners. 

When I first started writing songs, I felt a certain affinity for song structure. I always had a sense of understanding form and seeing how it could be manipulated out of its verse/chorus patterns. Partly, if not mostly, I think this came from Led Zeppelin, who never felt it necessary to supply a chorus with vocals (When the Levee Breaks, The Wanton Song), or having new/different lyrics for each chorus repeat (The Rover). My songs from 1993 all the way to 2016 would often tweak the standard song form: suddenly inserting the upcoming bridge riff between second and third verse before the second chorus (Oh Joyous Song), bringing in the guitar solo after only the first chorus (I can Feel), shortening a song to just 2xVerse/bridge/chorus/verse/guitar solo (Coattails). Helmet were another band who had an obvious influence in this department. A typical Helmet song structure is: verse/verse/chorus/bridge (or solo)/chorus - bringing songs down to bare necessities and never overstating their point.

Learning about Sonata Form in my composition studies from 2004 through to 2006 allowed me to take a brand new look at the verse/chorus structure, but flipped around in an A/B form, with the development section replacing what I understood as the guitar solo section of a song. While my first two symphonies were mostly failures (the third movement of the first pushed way beyond my capabilities by attempting a Sibelius-like composition), they did teach me a lot about sonata form and how to use, reuse, and develop each theme. 

I even took this straight into a guitar composition that I wrote in 2013's 'A Minor Sledge'. Another tweak: here I start developing the second theme during the repeat of the exposition, and it is this early development that transitions the themes into the new key for the "official development" (the coda transposes the last part of the development into the original key). The jazz guitar piece 'This is Yours' (2014), uses standard sonata form (although, a slight tweak, in that it develops, mostly, one particular section of the second theme instead of the first theme).

Back in 2004, I was having issues with a musician friend who couldn't commit to band work, and I dramatically proclaimed that I was going to quit music because nothing ever worked out for me. My guitarist friend who I was starting a rock/metal band with, laughed, and said "You can't quit music. Even if you tried, I'd come over and visit, and you'll be scrawling notes and ideas onto your bedroom wall." 

Years later, I did quit music. When I had no more songs to write, I really had no more to give to music, and put the guitar away for about five years, and only really played occasionally when I walked into music shops. Of course, my bandmate was right: I did always go back to musescore and see what i could make of some ideas. Usually the results were atrocious, and the pieces got filed with titles like 'Mr Stubbs sucks, again', 'the reason why you don't do this' ... etc. Last year, while writing The Falling City (finished and soon to be released digitally, if no publisher can be found), I did stumble across some ideas and wrote a piece for a chamber sextet, with Bassoon as lead instrument. It's okay, not great, but it serves as a completed piece. 

I have since been playing guitar again for the last three years, realising I should never have put it down - I lost all my thumb strength and much of my shredding speed (although I never mastered sweep-picking, I was pretty quick with multiple hammer-ons), and have only got both back in small doses now. This String Duo here, like the cello theme from the third movement of Three Orchestral Scores (2006), began on guitar. A simple, but interesting idea, that, even after the key change, I could not think of how to develop it further without it just being looped (I don't have a loop pedal). So, I transcribed it to string quartet, starting with cello, and then adding the viola part. However, it seemed pretty contained within these two instruments, and I soon deleted the two violins. Although I'm not a fan of Mozart's String Duo's, I had dabbled a little in Duos with other instruments, but never completed anything with any true degree of success. I actually feel like this Viola and Cello Duo is a success (whether people like it or not, is another issue...), and it takes the sonata form again, and tweaks it by not repeating the exposition, but repeating the development only, while also adding a transitional third theme. 

I am now working on a fugue for this duo as the second movement, using two themes that have come out of this Allegro movement. 
 

• 14/03/26, Ōhaupō 

Listening to music doesn't have the same appeal that it used to when I was younger. I feel, as I get older, that music is an intrusion on my sense of self. Where once it was the soundtrack to my emotions, now it is a bombardment of noise demanding I pay attention.

And I want to pay attention, but my ears don't want to hear.

Perhaps I have gained a great deal more sensitivity towards sound volumes - understandable, to some degree; although, some grow less sensitive as they continue to gain hearing loss. I have not sustained a great deal of hearing loss from my days as a solo acoustic musician and a rock/metal guitarist. While I was working as an assistant book-buyer in Highland Park Paper Plus, I noticed my ears becoming extremely sensitive to the sound of coins dropping against one another in the till, to the sound of trolleys clanging against one another in the supermarket next door, to the point where I felt like I was in immense pain from these noises, and I began wearing cotton in my ears to reduce the decibels, otherwise the extreme sensitivity I was experiencing would bring a great deal of stress. I was also going through the lowest point of my clinical depression at the time, which may have have been a potential cause. Regardless, I had spent years hunched over my acoustic guitar with my right ear being pummelled with sound waves. Years later, after moving from Auckland to Invercargill, and the rock/metal band I was in drawing to an end, I had a hearing test done and it turned out that the hearing loss I did have was negligible (that's approximately 7 years of wearing hearing protection by plugging my ears with cotton in every day!). What I was experiencing, I was told, was 'in my head'. This was somewhat of an unbelievable statement. Years of hearing sensitivity was just something my mind was conjuring? The audiologist suggested that I would simply have to work on getting used to normal levels of sound again. I went back to my flat, mind reeling from this news, heart beating with anxiety at the thought of having to suffer through this excruciating pain all over again; but within a week of not wearing hearing protection, I was starting to get used to normal sound levels again.

Like a lot of musicians, I also suffered tinnitus. I have made efforts to reduce noise levels to assist with the reduction of tinnitus, and over the years this has reduced also.

Since 2018 when I moved into my car, I have sought peace and calm along riversides, through forestry tracks, and over ranges, searching for those peaks or rapids where I can rest and enjoy the natural sounds around me.

Music isn't natural. It is a constructed sound put together by humans. It is my firm belief that animals do not make music. Even birds. We liken their calls to music because we can pitch them to a musical scale, but we can also pitch construction machines to a scale as well - but we don't! (as far as I know no one has, but to be fair, someone probably has!). If birds make actual music, it is unknown to us; we can only hear what they produce and interpret it as music. But music is something that we humans put together out of natural sounds that can be produced. We force these pitches together with rhythmic impulses, and music is born.

Rock music has a noise quality to it - loud for the sake of being loud. Electronic music is produced into digital loudness. Compression destroys all the highs and lows. I first started turning away from loud rock music, but many a morning I have woken up and while driving to my job, have not even wanted to listen to my beloved Mozart.

The silence of morning.
The rumbling of the car engine, the scraping of wind against the windows - all these are noise enough.

I was once accused of being someone who listens to music as background (my god! I don't know how anyone could accuse any musician, let alone someone who has written 200 songs, performed acoustic and metal music, composed for orchestras, and listens to all the best music from all but 2 genres, of being someone who listens to music as 'background'!). I have studied Mozart and Beethoven scores, I learned almost every Led Zeppelin song, learnt every song on Undertow by ear - music has never been a background, and it never will be. I have to HEAR music. I have to hear what's going on - what those flutes are playing over the violins, what the bass is doing when its not following the six-string guitar, what drum patterns are being played as a contrast: all the counterpoint and interesting harmonies will forever fascinate me. Whether it's Mozart or Tool, what those musicians and composers are doing to make music will always bring an interest beyond just the emotional moment that got me first listening to the piece.

But if I don't want to hear noise, I turn music off. All of it.
Because even Mozart, performed by the greatest orchestras ever, is still a noisy presence when I just want as much quiet as I can possibly find.

In the city, where noise reigns supreme, unwanted sounds must be matched with wanted sounds: this day I may want to bring Helmet up on the stereo and help block out those other intrusions, or maybe Page Hamilton's riffs just fit with this day's city-mood; this other day I may want Beethoven's 6th Symphony to bring me some joviality while I drive through the centre of town.

But when I am down on the riverside with water passing through rapids, cicadas in the bushes, swallows dipping and diving, and the occasional cow mooing for attention over in the paddock, the last thing I want is someone to bring constructed sound into the mix. Not even Delius, who of all the composers feels the most 'natural', because even his music is constructed from constructed instruments. And that which is constructed doesn't fit naturally into the landscape.

Let these noises be still,
And let those voices born from the earth have their say.
I will listen,
And let this peace momentarily reign.

• 7th April, 2024; Upper Moutere