Autumns in the Trees History and Analysis pt. 2
Welcome back readers to the 2nd portion of the Autumns in the Trees History and Analysis.
After the aforementioned Take the Moral High Ground tour of May-June 2006, Autumns in the Trees fell out of the Young Republic repertoire. With Jon Lee’s departure from the band in October we lost our trumpet, and with the new 8-person lineup we concentrated on beginning to form a tighter, more pop-y sound. If memory serves, the song may have surfaced once or twice in an acoustic set, but for the time being it was put on the back burner, with the intention of it eventually being recorded, for what at the time was considered our 3rd, as of yet untitled “dark” album.
In the spring of 2008 it was momentarily ressurected during a single band practice, and although nothing definite was decided, there were inclinations towards a more string quartet-based approach. But it was again put on hold while we continued to record a pop album that was to be the follow-up to 12 Tales from Winter City.
Soon after our drummer, piano and flute players quit, and upon urging from our label End of the Road Records, the partially-completed Pop album was shelved and we jumped right into making this 3rd “dark” album, now known as Balletesque. Many of the songs intended for Balletesque were shelved as Julian wrote new stronger, more cohesive material. But Autumns in the Trees, upon appeal from members of the band who remembered it as a favorite, as well as approval from our management, was able to stay on the tracklisting.
In the midst of recording Balletesque in the fall of 2008, Autumns in the Trees was re-introduced to our current 6-person lineup, with the intentions of crafting the version for the record.
With the differing instrumentation we now had, a few general arrangement changes were made. Katherine’s flute solo after the first verse was replaced with pedal steel, and all other primary instrumental duties were given to a theoretical, as of yet unwritten string quartet arrangement. The rythmn section developed their parts through an intensive process of simplification, in the end basically doubling Chris’ bassline with a deadened, woody texture of toms and guitar. Julian utilized his Fender ‘Jazz Master Jaguar’ electric guitar famous for its 1960s surf rock sound, creating a staccato percussive quality with a right hand palm muting technique. It was later described as sounding a bit like “spy” guitar, because of that 60s sound it evoked. The rhythm section had established a far more sparse, relaxed and disciplined bed for this new version.
Since Kristin had her hands full taking string writing duties on the new big folk song “Tough Year,” I jumped at the chance to have a go at Autumns, as the song had always been a favorite of mine. I wanted the quartet to sound like they were trying to rise out of an empty state of depression to form a full, sweeping big-string arrangement, but each verse it would be defeated by the lyricist’s melancholic state of mind, and the 4-part harmony would thus deflate and evaporate into its former state of nothingness, before making another doomed effort in the following verse. Finally, in the first part of the instrumental, the quartet accepts defeat, embraces the sadness, and emotes accordingly. The tragedy is thus realized. This actually isn’t really what I was thinking when I was writing, but upon later reflection I feel it is a valid interpretation. All I was thinking at the time was, well, to try to make it sound good. I was thinking about voice leading, avoiding non-creative violations of the rules of common practice, not interfering with while simultaneously complimenting the melody, relating in a congruous way to the rhythm section, capturing those tiny little precious moments of inspiration before they escaped back into the ether, and generally trying not to ruin the song. Sometimes it comes easily soaring upon the wings of that inspiration, sometimes you have to stomp along the ground and just pound through it. The real test of a composer’s chops is what emerges when they have to pound through it, note by note. And I suppose the real measure of their talent in how high the soaring can go. But I digress!
Going off of suggestions received in band practice, for the instrumental section I wrote a sort of counterpuntive bit of motivic development based on the idea I had in the verses, and a new more positive sounding counter-subject. Once complete with this first draft, I then began writing another completely different version, which was far less melancholic, and more a slinky groove-based approach closely working off of Chris’ “pseudo latin” bass line. I brought both versions into a band practice for feedback, (figured having two completely different approaches would give band members more room for constructive criticism) and to my slight surprise they reacted more favorably to the first melancholic version.
Taking a brief break while I was immersed in the rising Tidal Wave, I returned to my arrangement in November. I met with Kristin for a string section brainstorm on Autumns and Tough Year, and she gave the suggestion of making the verses more closely rhythmically match the vocal melody. This led me to extensive re-working. Meanwhile I was unhappy with the first part of the instrumental, and threw out my flat- sounding harmonization of the vocal melody and concocted an original melody that came to me on my viola. Kristin liked the idea of the vocal melody more, but I preferred the original melody, so I wrote a version that was based solely on my own melody, as well as one that was the vocal melody, and just for the hell of it, one that was a hybrid of both. (My original melody is the version in the final recording) As it so happens the day I wrote the hybrid I also bicycled down the street to the nearby Jewish community center to vote for our 46th president.
As for the modulated bulk of the instrumental, in my second version I took on the conceptually ambitious idea of weaving in various little favorite quotes from throughout the album Balletesque. Guitar fills, basslines, vocal melodies, just parts that my bandmates had created that I was particularly fond of. I wanted to make the quotes not obvious, and meld together in a musical way. This proved, as you could imagine, to be quite a challenge. I completed a “thin” version of it before grudgingly rejecting the whole notion as simply too conceptual for its own good. Thus having written two versions of the instrumental, I lamented to Kristin that I didn’t know what to do, and she offered to take it on.
The instrumental section, as in Julian’s original composition, is comprised of a simple repeating Ab to Db chord progression, softened with 7ths. You would barely notice it however with Kristin’s arrangement, as it freely wafts and spins upon uninhibited pentatonic breezes. The four members of the quartet are akin to leaves flitting about the air of an october’s wind-swept afternoon, briefly alighting upon some branch or stoop, only to be swept again into spontaneous harmonized choreography, warmed in the chill season’s air by a slanting sun. It is liberated, intuitive writing.
The quartet was recorded live wednesday November 19th, following a single rehearsal the night before. Each verse was done separately, as well as the two portions of the instrumental. Julian spent a bit of studio time editing those sections together as seamlessly as possible. Recording an ensemble of musicians playing a composition of my own was proved once again to be an absolute thrill of the highest order.
Bob wrote a pedal steel solo for after the first verse, painting up and around the chord progression with weary sliding strokes leaving quickly fading residual streaks. His dramatic use of multi-directional intervalic leaps juxtaposed with intimate leading tone resolutions are in close relation to both the vocal melody and my Cello solo in the proceeding verse, but the nature of his chromatic resolutions are rooted in american country and blues scales (chromatically flirting with nines and flat threes in a major pentatonic context) rather than the european-derived neo-classical and folk scales. (chromatically flirting with sharp fours and flat sixths in a harmonic minor context) Same dramatic techniques, same emotive effect, but using a vocabulary rooted in divergent scale traditions, and ones from differing hemispheres. When inquired over the phone on the possible inspirations of his pedal steel solo, Bob reacts with wide-eyed bewilderment and an aversion to coherent commitments, exclaiming things like “I’m sorry man, I don’t know songs very well!” He does, however, eventually point to a guitar part that Nels Cline plays in the Wilco song “You are my Faith” as a source for creative stimulus. When recorded, Julian decided to double the part in octaves, creating spooky semi tones for an “uneasy, slightly unsettling” and “ghostly sound.”
The last instrument to be added was a wurlitzer electric piano. This was Chris’s idea after having an unforgettably rapturous experience hearing a certain little falling fill over the g minor chord MJ played on the old live version. (You can hear it on piano 1:38 into the 2nd electric Rudyard Kipling recording I posted in the last blog.) Only a couple days before Christmas, after most everything for Balletesque had been recorded, our engineer Morgan was able to sneak us into Ronnie’s Place studio he works at for some free late-night christmas break session time. I played about as authentic a Hammond B3 organ as they come for a couple songs, and we were able to realize Chris’ dream with the Wurlitzer Electric Piano they had on hand for Autumns in the Trees. The studio was originally built by Roy Orbison, and its where most of his legendary hits were recorded. Its an absolutely gorgeous space, one that could have only been built in a pre-mp3 music industry. The walls were predominantly richly finished hardwoods inlayed with plush velvet, with a multi-teered design that featured a balcony capable of accommodating the entire “Only the Lonely” string section while simultaneously recording the rest of the band in pristine isolation. I felt completely unworthy to be recording in this setting on Roy Orbison’s electric piano and organ, but at the same time was empowered by the “this is freakin’ sweet” element. The part Chris had me play was actually a bit different than what I can decipher MJ’s original part to be, but the wurlitzer really did add a perfect soft, organic sound to the record to help fill out the space behind the lead instruments. You barely notice it on the finished record, while being entirely audible – and I think thats indicative of its effectiveness.
The first song written for Balletesque, and the last to be completed, Autumns in the Trees is quieter and more reflective than any of the other cuts. It is not conventional in its structure, yet also not the spectacle of some of the album’s other unconventional tracks. It is an example of individual members of the Young Republic conceiving ideas separately, and then joining them together to see what reactions may occur. I feel it is a lovely representation of our chemistry as artists, and I’m proud to have been involved.
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