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"We Regret to Inform You that Xavier’s School Will Not Accept Your Application at This Time…"

What happens to people who can’t cut the mutant mustard at the school where the X-Men train? McSweeney’s tells all in their article, Rejection Letters from Xavier’s School of Exceptional Youth.

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In the News It Happened to Me Music

RIP Jimmy Smith: 1926 – 2005

Photo: Jimmy Smith at the Hammond B-3.

Jimmy Smith, master of the “Full Eights” sound on the mighty Hammond B-3!

Around 1985, the Yamaha Organ School was doing its damndest to expunge

my love for music and my sense of rhythm. While Yamaha’s musical

instrument division were practically redefining instruments — consider

the Yamaha grand piano’s bright sound, favoured by Glenn Gould and many

rock pianists, as well as the DX-7 synthesizer and the WX-7, which let

sax and clarinet players play synth — the ghouls behind the home organ

division crafted a course bereft of soul and full of schmaltz. I had a

teacher who had a bit of a legato fetish; she was an advocate of a

playing style in which the notes blurred together into a bland aural

mush. To make matters worse, I was only two out of fourteen songs

through the required Barry Manilow songbook.

After making sure that I got kicked out of organ school at the annual

recital (long story, which I’ll recount later), I became a synth player

full-time. I even went to far as to erase any of the organ sounds from

my Akai AX-60 synth. I’d had enough of that infernal instrument.

What changed my mind was a music course I took at Crazy Go Nuts

University: “Science and Technology for Musicians”. It qualified as an

“arts” course for engineering students and as a “science” course for

the music students. I often gave them a hand with the science parts

(“Uh, Joey, how do I draw a graph of a 5Hz sine wave with an amplitude

of 2?”) and they gave me a hand with non-keyboard instruments (“Uh,

Dave, how do I play a scale on a clarinet?”).

During the course, I wound up writing a paper on the Hammond B-3 organ.

This instrument was clearly the invention of a former watchmaker: a

classic Hammond is essentially a big electric motor driving a gear

system which in turn drives a series of wheels that made sound. While

writing the paper, I decided to hit the music library and listen to

artists who were considered B-3 virtuosos; that’s when I discovered

Jimmy Smith.

My bad experiences at the Yamaha Organ School, coupled with a teacher

who was more devoid of funk than the entire Michigan Militia, led me to

forget that one could play the organ with rhythm and even staccato

attacks. On the organ, Jimmy Smith’s hands and feet could be weapons;

his playing style defined what we now considered to be the de facto

organ soloing and pedalling style.

Musicians who redefine the way their

instrument is played tend to draw inspiration from other instruments. For example, Carlos Santana says that in order to perfect his signature guitar playing style, he played Dionne Warwick albums over and over and listened to her voice.

In Smith’s case, he drew inspiration from trumpet players, mimicking

their lines. He even emulated their sound in solos by killing the Leslie

(an organ spaker mounted on a rotating stand that gives organs their

“whirling” sound) and slamming every drawbar save the lowest and

highest to the “zero” setting.

After buying Jimmy’s live album, Root Down (whose name you should recognize — the Beastie Boys covered the title track on Ill Communication),

I reprogrammed the organ sounds back into my synth, and made sure than

any subsequent synth I bought could do a decent B-3 impression. Later,

when the organ made its comeback in rock in the early 1990’s (thanks

largely to the “Madchester” sound of bands like the Charlatans,

Inspiral Carpets, Milltown Brothers, et. al.), I copped more than my

fair share of Jimmy Smith licks at gigs. In 1994, I got to completely “Smith

out” when the band we opened for let me use their B-3 and Leslie. It

was heaven.

My last

synth — a Korg WaveStation A/D,

which I still have — has a patch I programmed: a monster B-3 sound

with a touch of distortion and a decent Leslie effect paired with

spring reverb. When you dial it up, its name appears in capital letters

on the display: JIMMY SMITH.


Jimmy Smith died on Tuesday at the age of 79. He’d been playing the organ for 50 years and would’ve embarked on a tour with Joey “The other keyboardist named Joey” deFrancesco next month.

Thanks, Jimmy, for all the music, and for helping me fall in love with the organ again.

Categories
It Happened to Me

Forgot to Get Schmutzed

Photo: Shrek billboard above a a church banner reading 'He Is Risen'.

Best. Sign placement. Ever.

I just read this in Deenster’s blog:

is it just me, or did every one seem to walk around with a bit of schmutz on their forehead?

Oh, crap. I knew I forgot to do something today.

(Note 1: Hey, Wendy! I didn’t have to look up “schmutz”!)

(Note 2: I wonder if Adina spent half her time in India going up to people and

saying: “Excuse me, I thought you should know that you have a bit of

pimento on your forehead.”)

I’ll bet this guy remembered:

Photo: Hairy dude wearing a speedo and a big honkin' crucifix medallion.

Get this man a waxing and some low-carb communion, stat!

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In the News

Happy Chinese New Year!

It’s the Year of the Rooster!

Of course, if you’re into rampant Beavis-and-Buttheadism like me,

you’re going to be and keep referring to it as “Year of the Cock” or

better yet, by my own coinage: “Cocktoberfest”.

(I prefer my coinage: it’s poultry in motion!)

Kung hei fat choy, everybody.

Graphic: Colonel Sanders/KFC logo with 'Kung hei Fat Choy!' below 'KFC'.

At least, we finally know what KFC truly stands for. D’you think Colonel Sanders and General Tao ever served together?

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Uncategorized

Zen Dog

It’s a busy day here in the Research and Innovation department at Tucows,

so here’s a series of terribly cute dog photos (not mine; I just found

them) to tide you over until the “real” entry for the day gets written:

Photo: Preview of a series of photos of a dog balancing things on his head.

Click the photo to see the full-size version.

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It Happened to Me

Your Valentine’s Day Warning

Photo: Me and Wendy.

T minus three days!

A scene from last Thursday at the charity event during which I enjoyed more than my fair share of drinks:

Her: So, Accordion Boy, do you and your fiancee have plans for Valentine’s?

Me: Yeah, she’s flying up here Friday evening, and I’m taking her out to Crush for dinner on Saturday.

Her: [Her boyfriend] is soooooo dead! Just one time a year — One! Time! A! Year! — I would just like him to do something romantic

[approximately five minutes of her ranting and my silent nodding deleted for brevity]

Learn from this, attached gentlemen. Stay out of the doghouse and make reservations while there’s still time.

As for you unattached local guys, she’s pretty and might be available soon…

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Signs of Life at My Developer-Related Blogs

We’ve been working on some pretty ambitious plans here at work, so posting on my work blogs, The Farm and IndieGameDev

has been rather light as of late. However, that’s not the case anymore

— give them a look if you’ve been waiting for new articles!