Introducing RECITAL
A place for musicians to discuss music
By David Bernabo
If an album is made but doesn’t exist as an LP or a CD, does it truly exist? Sure, music has physicality at the digital level — arctic server farms consist of many physical objects — and music, listened to on any format, is an abstract art form.
But if a handful of people listen to half of my record on a digital service, does that recorded statement, that lovingly sequenced collection of songs, exist in anyone’s reality besides my own? If there is no mechanism to adequately inform others of a piece of music’s existence, how much does it truly exist?
These are questions that I ask myself every time a carefully crafted piece of music hits my Bandcamp page. I grew up with music being a physical product — jewel cases, expansive digipaks, hand-me-down classic rock LP collections, my prized long box CD of Prince’s Diamonds and Pearls. Since the early 2000s, my bands and solo projects have released tapes, CDs, LPs (150 and 180 gram), triangular lathe cuts made halfway around the world, lathe cuts made six blocks from my house, and even one copy of a record that could only be heard in the main branch of the Carnegie Library. The physical form signified the existence of a record.
These days — sorry if I’m sounding old — I rarely sell records at shows. (Note: I also play fewer shows since my film and art practices take up more and more time.) And while the cost of producing CDs is much lower than it was years ago, the demand for CDs is also certifiably lower. LPs are expensive when produced in small runs of 100–500, a reasonable quantity for the demand of music made without a label or publicist or national touring schedule. If you make 100 LPs, you’ll have a unit price of at least $10/record. 300 copies lowers the cost considerably, but our basements are only so large.
So, what to do? Post-election, I’ve been funneling much of my anxiety-laced free time into composing and recording music. The result is that I have six records ready to release this year. Two indie rock-type records, a collection of collage compositions, sacred vocal music made with an electronic piano and a Freeze pedal, and a retrospective of experiments that I pieced together in my college days. Oh, and a duo record with vibraphonist/percussionist Jeff Berman. These are all destined for Bandcamp. Bits of this music will see extra life as music for film and dance.
So, why are we talking about this?
Recital is an attempt to create a platform to discuss this music — selfishly, my music and, hopefully, music from people in similar circumstances. I love reading musician biographies, memoirs, books of correspondence, and artist journals. I envision Recital to be an artist’s journal. We’ll post music alongside the thoughts of the musicians that created it — maybe chord charts, lyric sheets, and scores. To start, there will be no money involved. We’ll keep it simple and focus on the music.
If you’d like to write a statement about your music — a composition, an album, an interesting recording technique, a really unneeded, but intriguingly complex conceptual framework — write to me here and we’ll make it happen, most likely.
See you again, soon.
