Yellowstone

A New Genre

It's been a while. Ok, a very long while. I had other creative outlets during that time but interest in that has waned, so I figured I'd head back to music for awhile. The first thing I recorded is a cover of Radiohead's "Crepe", but with ukulele as the main instrument. I'm very happy with the way it turned out, but I'm not allowed to post a cover song without rights to the song. (If you want to hear it, drop me a line and I'll send it to you).

I had been thinking about different music genres and sub-genres recently, wondering who came up with the names and what elements define them. Rock songs sound different than Jazz. Then there are a zillion sub-genres in Rock that sound completely different, but are still somehow Rock. What would a new genre sound like? What would its features be? For reasons unknown, the term "Whisper Core" popped into my head. A new genre has been born!

I imagine this is a bit backwards. I think the songs come first, and from the songs a genre is born. I don't think anyone sat around thinking "I want to create a genre called trip-hop." Nevertheless, that's how this story begins. 

But how do I define Whisper Core? I decided that it should be composed of samples (recorded snippets) of noises that can be found or made in a library. The first thought I had is how the song begins - a rhythm of "Shh". This is the core of my "drum kit". You may also recognize the tip of a pencil bouncing on a table, a pile of paperclips being dropped, or the flutter of book pages.

Melodic instruments were trickier. A couple of them came from heavily modified samples of rubber bands being plucked. But I was left wanting something with more sustain than I could get from a rubber band. So I turned to wind instruments. The instrument that comes in right as the vocals do was a sample of cupping my hands and blowing between my thumbs. Perhaps a stretch of sounds found in a library, but I could if I wanted. 

Lastly, I wanted a somewhat shocking and harsh sound. I remembered as a kid I'd pluck long blades of grass, put them between my thumbs, and blow them like a reed instrument. There's not a lot of grass in a library, but plenty of paper! It made a horrific screech, but it's just what I was looking for.

For the words, I wanted something book related. Either quotes from a book or a summary, or something inspired by literature. I had remembered this short book I had read years ago called "37 Days of Peril" about a man in 1871 getting lost in Yellowstone after being separated from his expedition. I ended up using direct quotes from this book - I love the language, like "I was in no humor for ecstasy." 

Yellowstone

On the day that I found myself separated from the company, and for several days previous, our course had been impeded by the dense growth of the pine forest. 

Each man engaged in the pursuit of a passage through it, and it was while thus employed, that I strayed out of sight and hearing of my comrades.

As separations like this had frequently occurred, it gave me no alarm, and I rode on, fully confident of soon rejoining the company.

I rode on until darkness overtook me in the dense forest.

I selected a spot for comfortable repose, picketed my horse, built a fire, and went to sleep.

The next morning I rose at early dawn, saddled and mounted my horse, and took my course in the supposed direction of the camp.

In searching for the trail I became somewhat confused. The falling foliage of the pines had obliterated every trace of travel.

While surveying the ground my horse took fright, and I turned around in time to see him disappearing at full speed among the trees. That was the last I ever saw of him.

[Quiet!]

The forest seemed alive with the screeching of night birds, the angry barking of coyotes, and the prolonged, dismal howl of the gray wolf. 

These sounds, familiar by their constant occurrence throughout the journey, were now full of terror, and drove slumber from my eyelids.

It was mid-day when I emerged from the forest into an open space at the foot of the peninsula. 

The ascending vapor from innumerable hot springs, and the sparkling jet of a single geyser, added the feature of novelty to one of the grandest landscapes I ever beheld. but, jaded with travel, famishing with hunger, and distressed with anxiety, I was in no humor for ecstasy.

I stretched myself under a tree, upon the foliage which had partially filled a space between contiguous trunks, and fell asleep.

Suddenly I was roused by a shrill scream, like that of a human being in distress, poured, seemingly, into the very portals of my ear.

There was no mistaking that fearful voice. I had been deceived by and answered it a dozen times while threading the forest, with the belief that it was a friendly signal. It was the screech of a mountain lion, so alarmingly near as to cause every nerve to thrill with terror.

I answered every growl with a responsive scream. Terrified at the delay and pawing of the beast, I increased my voice to its utmost volume. Just at this moment it occurred to me that I would try silence.

The lion suddenly imitated my example.

This silence was more terrible, if possible, than the clatter and crash of his movements through the brushwood, for now I did not know from what direction to expect his attack.

After a lapse of time which I cannot estimate, the beast gave a spring into the thicket and ran screaming into the forest.

I recollect at this time discussing the question, whether there was not implanted by Providence in every man a principle of self-preservation.

There is life in the thought, and, as I have proved in my own case, bring a man out of difficulty, when nothing else can avail.

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I hope you enjoy my first post in over a decade. Welcome to Whisper Core!

-Uncle Ziffler