Great Ex-Spectorations

  • Reading time:3 mins read

So I’ve got a copy of Let It Be… Naked, now.

And. It sounds good. There are the obvious tracks like “The Long and Winding Road”. Yes, yes. What impresses me more is the difference in sound quality and general engineering decisions with pieces like “I’ve Got a Feeling”. What a difference dynamic range and tonal saturation can make.

Hell. Did you know there was an organ in the background? In theory, it sustains most of the tension while Paul goes all Helter Skelter on top of it. In Phil Spector’s version, it’s not there! Well, barely. Now that I’m listening for it I can hear its faint buzz, way in the back. It almost sounds more like feedback than an instrumental voice.

Similarly, the opening chord — at first glance, it sounds like the top note is entirely different. I thought the new mix must run at a different tape speed (as with “Across the Universe”). No; it’s just that Spector was a dumbass and cut off almost the entire upper end of the spectrum. That’s why the entire album sounds like it’s being played from inside a tin can.

Well, that’s repaired. Forgotten details (like backing vocals) have been brought back to the foreground and balanced properly. We’ve got intelligent stereo separation. All of the meaningless, cute banter has been stripped away and (where it seemed salvageable) thrown onto disc two.

The effect is that this indeed does sound like a live (and often accoustic) performance — in comparison to some ancient, faded, muddy artifact dug out of a deep hole and dressed up with a string arrangement. It’s got warmth. And. The songs have some impact that they didn’t have before. Heck, now I understand what the guitars are doing. In many cases, they were an inpenetrable fog. It seems there is, however, musicianship at work. How interesting!

And yes, “The Long and Winding Road” has become listenable. Now I might not skip it. Not every time.

Consider this: George’s picture on the front isn’t as frightening anymore. I think that says… well, what does it say? Before he leered at John with inhuman teeth. Now he looks depressed. I suppose you could call that an improvement. I’d try to relate it to the fact that the man is dead, if it weren’t that I just watched him play Pac-Man not much over six months ago.

On another note, here’s a quote from the inside of the traycard:

Thank you for buying this music and for supporting the artists, songwriters, musicians, and nothers who’ve created it and made it possible.

Please remember that this recording and artwork are protected by copyright law. Since you don’t own the copyright, it’s not yours to distribute. Please don’t use Internet services that promote the illegal distribution of copyrighted music, give away illegal copies of discs or lend discs to others for copying. It’s hurting the artists who created the music. It has the same effect as stealing a disc from a store without paying for it.

Well! That’s a different tactic.

EDIT: I like the last paragraph here.

Askew

  • Reading time:2 mins read

I just realized that most artists only really have one thing to say. If that. Everything they do is just a refinement of, or another aspect of, that single contribution that they have (that being their own selves).

I suppose this should be obvious. We’re all individuals. The more rounded individuals, perhaps, have more corners of their minds to lay bare.

All the same: Miyamoto has never really varied since his original ideas for Donkey Kong and Mario Bros. Those added up into Super Mario Bros., and then Miyamoto took things a step further to hit upon The Legend of Zelda. Since 1987, it’s all just been refinement. He doesn’t have much to say that we haven’t already heard.

Same goes for Rieko Kodama, really (as much as I enjoy her work). She’s still kind of working with the tools she devised a decade and a half ago. BioWare did a lot with their first RPG, but they haven’t done a lot since then.

Hitchcock kept whacking out variations on the same two or three themes. Most of his work involved finding people he enjoyed and allowing them to do whatever they wanted within his vague descriptions. The Beatles had a lot to say by the end, but that comes from the chemistry of five key voices (including George Martin) and all of their experiences.

Miyamoto did his part. He’s done now. Hitchcock did his part. So is he. So are the Beatles. (Really, what of great merit have any of them done since the early ’70s?) They’ve each come out of nowhere with a new perspective and pointed out untapped possibilities within their own respective contexts. And in so doing, they’ve helped the context change.

And the world keeps moving. If they don’t, they’re left as a noble milestone; as a reminder of the need for perspective. Not as a template, however. Anything else is idolatry.

And that’s where all of the problems lie.

I’ve got a headache.