A New Song: Happy Ending

Paul Heinz

Happy Ending

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Rather than embark on another huge project this year, I’ve decided to record two new songs, fine-tune two old songs, and put them out as two releases – a single and a 3-song EP. First up is the single, Happy Ending, a blistering four-minute tirade that was written last year and primarily recorded from December 2024 through February of this year.

Unlike my several last recordings, I decided to use a drum softsynth rather than the real thing, just as I did with my earliest recordings. More and more I’ve been finding that mixing songs with live drums – especially when engineers set up twelve or more mics to capture the sound – to be a frustrating, mind-numbing process, forcing me to use samples to avoid the inevitable bleeding that occurs when dealing with so many tracks. Great mixing engineers may be able to manage all of this just fine, but I can not. My best experience mixing live drums was with my 2021 album, The Human Form Divine, when I insisted that the engineer set up as few mics as possible, mimicking the Glyn Johns technique that he used on so many great-sounding albums. This method worked great for me, and to date, Human Form is one of my best-sounding efforts.

To purchase a drum softsynth, I called up good old Ben from Sweetwater last summer and asked him to recommend one that was easy to use. He suggested EZ Drummer 3, and while there were certainly a few quirks to be overcome, ultimately I was satisfied with how the process went. As always, I eschewed any prerecorded MIDI performances and instead recorded my own part, altering velocities to make the performance sound human, and spending hours on velocity adjustments, fills, flams and ghost notes. My son Sam offered some great feedback in this regard, directing me to the most human-sounding performance.

So, is the drum part I came up with better than a really good drummer playing live? Nope! But the mixing process was so effortless in comparison with my last project that it was worth the modest drop-off, particularly for a song that was really all about the energy rather than virtuosic performances.

Once I laid down the bass, vocal and scratch piano tracks, I asked local guitarist Brandon Schreiner if he’d be willing to help out. Brandon and I have played a few dozen times together over the years, mostly in a friend’s basement, but he has chops and musical instincts that I'd rate with the best of them (he also played on three tracks from last year’s release, Pop and Circumstance). I was elated when he agreed to play some tracks for the tune. For the guitar solo, I hummed for him an idea of how I wanted it to go, and he patiently laid down a few dozen takes before finding just the right combination. Wonderful!

I then added a bit of guitar myself, recorded piano, Wurlitzer and double vocals, and began mixing. I loved having only one tune to focus on this time around instead of a full-length album. To help with the mix, I asked a few friends to give a listen, including Sam, Brandon, Anthony Calderisi and Phil Sumida. Phil in particular offered a few hints that took the song from sounding okay to sounding really good. As always, I employed Collin Jordan of Chicago’s Boiler Room to master the project, and the results are terrific.

So step one of my 2025 recordings is complete! I hope to have my three-song EP, Esteemed Progeny, completed by the end of the summer, and I’ll then embark on a huge project that will take a couple of years to complete. At least that’s the plan for now.

Rewind: The Sunscreen Song and Teacher Hit Me With a Ruler

I talked about the Sunscreen Song on my podcast recently and thought I’d put out this blog again, originally written in 2023. The song is a fascinating bit of history, I think, with some great backstory. It’s also contains five minutes of really great advice.

The Sunscreen Song and Teacher Hit Me with a Ruler

February 02, 2023

A little insight into the mind of a music obsessive. Two examples:

1) Last week as I was flossing my teeth, I heard a man’s calm but commanding voice utter a one-word imperative sentence. Floss.

Floss. Floss. This meant something. I’d heard this man’s voice before. Deep inside my twisted brain, neurons were fired, synapses were traversed, and within a minute or two I remembered that it came from a song of sorts. A song of a speech? 

A quick Google search of “song advice speech” resulted in a link to “The Sunscreen Song,” aka “Everybody’s Free (to Wear Sunscreen),” a 1998 release by film director Baz Luhrmann that became a cultural phenomenon in the U.S. The song uses an essay of a hypothetical commencement speech written by Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich (widely misattributed to Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.) and received nationwide radio play in 1999. It’s a terrific little oddity, and I think the advice given is an poignant and funny today as it was twenty years ago. It was great to hear again.

Thank you, twisted brain!

2) Then, this morning I read Heather Cox Richardson’s essay on the history of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” a song that’s perhaps best known for its first line, “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”

Later, while walking my dog, I found myself stepping in time to the tune, and little by little I recalled that the reason I know the song so well is due to a parody that my brother taught me when I was a young grade schooler. These lyrics are NOT something that would be tolerated at any school today, but I recall them vividly with fondness:

My eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the school
We have tortured all the teachers we have broken all the rules
We have massacred the principal and barbecued the cooks
His truth is marching on

Glory, glory hallelujah
Teacher hit me with a ruler
Hid behind the door with a loaded .44
And there ain’t no teacher anymore.

Oh, how I laughed at this rendition! I particularly like the irony of barbecuing the cooks. A quick search online reveals that there are many variations of this tune, no doubt sung with glee on school playgrounds everywhere back in the day. I believe that singing it today would result in a suspension. A shame.

And there you have it. Every so often a jumbled brain will reward you with a link to the past, usually right after misplacing your car keys or stubbing your toe. Gotta get a win some of the time.

My Classical Music Journey through the Baroque Period

Late last year, I decided to embark on a classical music-listening journey in 2025, hopefully learning a little something along the way and getting a better sense of how music evolved and what composers or types of music particularly speak to me. Accompanying me on my journey are a couple of excellent books to help me understand the context of the music I’m listening to. I’m six weeks in, and since I’m taking my journey in chronological order, I knew that some of the front end of this effort was going to be a little tough. I just finished with Bach last week, which means the next stage includes composers like Mozart, Hayden, Beethoven and Schubert. This part of the journey excites me more than what preceded it, but I thought I should at least summarize my feelings thus far.

The initial recordings I listened to were by composers of the 1100s through the 1500s, and this was more out of curiosity than an expectation of truly enjoying the listening experience. From Hildegard, Dufay and Des Prez, to Palestrina and Tallis, none of the music is something I’d seek out again, but I was intrigued by some of the musical conventions of the time. For example, the scale Hildegard Von Bingen uses is generally mixolydian, but ever-so-often she inserts a major seventh and a minor second in the scale, giving it a flavor that’s a bit foreign to my ears, and likely yours as well.

Traveling a few centuries later, the music becomes more metered and more polyphonic, with distinct parts for bass, tenor, alto and soprano, and harmonic conventions begin to take shape – harmony which today seems rather mundane, but which at the time must have been quite trailblazing and perhaps even outlandish to some people’s ears. The piece I listened to from Palestrina from 1550 uses a lot of Vsus4 to V to I resolution, a convention which today sounds so common that it’s a little dull, but it works, and it must have worked beautifully at the time.

I then moved on the Monteverdi, considered the father of the opera, and listened to several movements of L’Orfeo from 1607. This offered the first piece of music that I genuinely liked: I found the “Ritornello” and its soprano aria (if indeed I’m getting my terms correct) truly gorgeous. The opera also offered some lovely trumpet and violin parts that almost sounded like the klezmer music that was to come out of Eastern Europe centuries later. But after listening to 20 minutes or so, I became uninterested in the basic harmonies – there were flashes, but not enough to return to the piece.

Similarly, the Vivaldi concerto I listened to was all very pleasant, but ultimately unfulfilling. It was Stravinsky three centuries later who is said to have quipped, “Vivaldi didn't write 400 concertos; he wrote one concerto 400 times.” I only listened to one, and it was fine, but I wouldn’t want to hear another 399 of them!

For Handel, I eschewed his compositions that I was already familiar with, and instead turned to his Ode for the Birthday of Queen Anne from 1713. Here I was quite taken with movement’s I and V, the former gorgeous and serene, and the latter movement in 3/4 delightful, with impressive vocal runs and prominent trumpet. I was less taken with two later pieces by Handel – Zodak the Priest and Ombra Mai Fu from the opera Serse. The latter is considered to be a measure of beauty rarely achieved in music, but for reasons unknown it didn’t reach me despite it being a very pretty piece. Zodak the Priest for me suffered from the bombastic quarter note accents, emphasized by the timpani, similar to sections for his Water Music and Royal Fireworks pieces that I find tiresome.

The remainder of my journey through the Baroque period centered on Bach, widely considered to be the genius from which all other composers sprouted. Aside from some obvious pieces that I’ve enjoyed through the years  (Prelude in C, minuets in G and G-minor, Sheep May Safely Graze) I’ve never gravitated toward his music, it being of a high contrapuntal nature and less devoted to melody, the musical component which has guided nearly all of my musical interests and aspirations since childhood. I was interested to see if my opinion might change through a more thorough examination of the master’s works.

For me, listening to parts of Bach’s major works – The Brandenburg Concertos, the Well-Tempered Clavier, The Goldberg Variations and The Art of the Fugue – I was more taken with Bach’s mastery of the form and the incredible musicianship exhibited in the recordings than the music itself, if that makes any sense. Hearing Rosalyn Tureck’s piano performance of the “C# Prelude” was awe-inspiring, as was Glen Gould’s playing of The Goldberg Variations. What players! But of course, what music as well, with shifting keys and flipping melodies and crazy-challenging runs of allegro sixteenth notes. And it all hangs together so well. I like moments for sure, perhaps even sections of these pieces, but listening for five minutes, ten minutes, and beyond, for me it all starts to sound similar, with sections meandering and no discernible melody to latch onto.

Now, I know full well that my inability to find the melody in these pieces is my own shortcoming, not Bach’s. Having been raised on Elton John, Paul McCartey and showtunes, the advanced counterpoint of Bach is not a natural fit for me. I was happy to hear some samples, and I would be happy to hear some again in small doses, but these long pieces are not my jam.

Of the Bach pieces I listened to, my favorites were movements one and four of The Art of the Fugue, largely because I listened to an orchestrated version of these pieces that were originally likely written for a keyboard instrument. Instead, I was directed to the Stuttgard Chamber orchestra’s take on this piece, and I think that part of my issue with enjoying works like The Well-Tempered Clavier and The Goldberg Variations is that I’m less drawn to piano solo music than orchestration, this despite being a piano player myself who once recorded a CD of original piano solos.

Go figure.

But I found section one of The Art of the Fugue to be beautiful as a string piece, and section four varied the melody and tempo just enough to keep my interest. Then, sadly, it waned as I listened to section 6. By this point I was looking at my watch and wondering if I could hear a palette cleanser of some melodic rock and roll!

Anyhow, that’s my journey so far, and I hope to summarize the next stage of my musical escapade in a month or two.

It's Time to Ditch Spotify

I know. You signed up for Spotify years and years ago, you’ve grown accustomed to the interface, you have friends and family who use the same service so that you can forward songs and playlists to each other.

I know.

But the bottom line is this: Spotify, Amazon, Apple and some other streaming services are paying musicians far, far less than others, and it seems to me that if you’re a fan of music – particularly newer music – you should want the musicians to benefit. (Let me note that I have no personal stake in this topic; my music has never earned me a cent and that’s not going to change.)

Exactly what streaming services pay is a complex topic and one that I’m not going to unravel in his blog, but according to dozens of websites and streaming calculators that I’ve visited over the past month, YouTube, Spotify and Amazon are at the bottom when comparing average rates per stream. Apple is a bit better. Tidal’s rates are about three times what Spotify pays. Qobuz pays even more.

I don’t want to put my stamp of approval on a particular streaming service over the other, but I encourage everyone to do his or her own homework, to check out rates and try out various streaming services, and then to make a decision that will benefit musicians the most while still giving you the access and convenience you’ve grown accustomed to.

As for me, I dropped Spotify last month and switched to Tidal after a trial period with both Tidal and Qobuz. (Qobuz was great, but their catalog wasn’t quite extensive enough for my tastes – it might be perfect for some listeners.) Switching to Tidal was a painless process. I transferred all of my playlists no problem, the interface is nearly identical, the sound quality is better, and the rates are similar. I’ve made the switch without any regret.

Streaming rates may not matter so much for legacy artists who were paid via the old model. The Eagles and Elton John are doing just fine. But for newer artists who are trying to make a go of it, who’ve put out maybe an EP or two and have enough of a following to tour at small clubs around the country, streaming rates matter. I want young artists who’ve amassed a decent following to make a decent living. No one is guaranteed anything, I know, and not everyone who can compose a song is entitled to the high life, but I’d like moderately successful musicians to at least make enough money to warrant recording their second album and not ditch their artistry for a full-time job at a corporation, you know what I mean?

Let’s say you’re a new artist who’s released an EP and an album and has managed to attract 100 million streams over the past five years. One hundred million streams! Not too shabby! You can probably hit the bigger cities in the U.S. and sell out clubs with a capacity of about 500. Touring is a tough way to make a living. You have to rent a van, hire a manager, pay a sound and merch person, stay in crappy motels or crash at fans’ homes, pay for insurance, pre-pay for merch, etc. It’s not easy (if you want to hear exactly how not easy it is – check out these YouTube videos). The likelihood of you making money on your tour is small. The likelihood of you making good money on your tour is even smaller.

But you’ve got 100 million streams! Surely, that’s going to provide you with a decent income, right?

Well…

On Spotify, these 100 million streams might have earned you somewhere around $400K. Not nothing, for sure, except that these streams were attracted over a five-year period, plus you’ve had to pay off studio expenses and share your income with the record label, your manager, your band, etc.  No one is getting rich under this scenario, which is fine, but I’d like this artist to not be destitute and to have enough money to pay the bills, take a few months off to write new material for another album, rent a decent apartment and maybe even set aside some cash for an IRA.

I think it’s important for music fans to put our money where it aligns with our values. The number one way has been and will always be to buy an artist’s merch and go to their shows. But we can also help by switching to streaming platforms that pay more to musicians. If we do this together, perhaps we can spur a sort of artistic renaissance.

2025: A Year of Classical Music

(note: to cut to the chase and read the list of classical music I’ll be listening to in 2025, scroll to the bottom)

Lately I’ve been fed up with talk radio and rock radio while driving around the Chicago area, and I’ve found myself absentmindedly tuning in to 98.7 WFMT, the local classical station, allowing me to appreciate what used to be a regular listening experience for me. My exposure to classical music has waned over the years, but it was significant during my childhood: between my parents’ listening habits and my piano lessons, band and choir concerts, solo and ensemble competitions and the like, not to mention an occasional concert in the park or local orchestral performance, classical music was very much a part of my life. As a young adult, when CDs became a thing, I’d buy the occasional classical CD, and I must have forty or so on the shelf today.

Although my active listening to classical music decreased when my children were young, my exposure to classical music was still significant, as my wife and I attended our children’s band, orchestra and choir concerts. It wasn’t until my children left home that this automatic exposure to classical music ceased, and I forgot to ramp up the intentional listening of my young adulthood. As a result, this music has mostly been absent from my life for the past decade or so.

It’s time to correct that, but I’d like to approach it in a concerted way (no pun intended). I’m going to devote 2025 to listening to classical music in a way I’ve never done before: consistently, repeatedly and intently. I’ve created a list of pieces to listen to over the course of the year, from some of the earliest choral works to musical pieces from the 21st century.

To what end? What’s the purpose? Mostly, I’d like to find additional pieces of music that I enjoy listening to. If I can find a few pieces that really wow me, or a composer or two I can explore further, then it’s mission accomplished. But I’d also like to have an overall better understanding of how music progressed over time, what the innovations were, and what some of the musical nomenclature of the classical world means. After all, I consider myself a musician, but there’s so little I know about classical music, and that shouldn’t be the case.

To help me with my cause, I’ve purchased three books on classical music:

1)      The Vintage Guide to Classical Music by Jan Swafford.

2)      The Rest is Noise by Alex Ross

3)      What to Listen for In Music by Aaron Copland.

I’ve completed the last book and was struck by a few observations by Mr. Copland:

“No composer can write into his music a value that he does not possess as a man.” (p. 212) This is very much a theme I considered when writing what is probably my favorite fictional piece that I’ve authored: “Nosebleed.” (2011, https://dc.cod.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1355&context=plr) I’d like to learn a bit more about the composers to help me understand their compositions.

Also from Copland: “When I hear a new piece of music that I do not understand, I am intrigued – I want to make contact with it again at the first opportunity. It’s a challenge – it keeps my interest in the art of music thoroughly alive.” (p. 199)  This is the spirit I’m going to try to tap into during my endeavor.

As always with these types of undertakings, there are some rules I’ll be following:

1)      I’ll only be listening to music that I don’t already know well. So, no Water Music, Eroica, Pictures at an Exhibition, The Planets, 1812 Overture, Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto, and the like. Sure, all of those pieces and many others could warrant another listen, but that will have to wait for another time. Of the pieces I’ve decided on, I think there are three or four I’ve heard before: Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7, Keith Emerson’s Piano Concerto No. 1, and Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony.

2)      I’ll be listening in chronological order, which should illuminate for me the progression of music through the centuries. 

3)      Each piece will be listened to, not watched. If the only way I can get a performance is on YouTube, I’ll stream the audio, not the video.

4)      I will listen to each piece initially without any knowledge of the piece aside from the year and the composer. Only after listening one time through will I consult the aforementioned books and a website or two to get some historical context.

5)      I will listen to each piece at least three times, allowing me to better absorb the music hopefully to the point of some degree of understanding.

I’d like to blog about my listening experience from time to time, though I’ll do so more from a layperson’s perspective, as my knowledge of music is mostly limited to the rock world. We shall see how this goes!

Without further ado, the following is the roadmap I intend to follow, though there could be some edits along the way. For many of the pieces, I’ll be listening to a particular movement or movements. My parents, my friend Uli and my daughter Jessica helped curate this list for me, along with several good websites devoted to the genre. The list below is color-coded to indicate which works I’ll be listening to in a given week.