By The Landlord
"Music begins where the possibilities of language end." – Jean Sibelius
“Speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
“George Martin, he's very good at a very sort of lush, sweet arrangement.” – Paul McCartney
How does it happen? Creating music, certainly in the genre of song, quickly or slowly, always comes in stages. First up, there's the initial, basic songwriting itself, which might mean any number of methods. Perhaps picking up a guitar, singing a tune over some chords, tinkering on the piano, scribbling some lyrics, creating a riff, beat, bass-line, maybe on a keyboard, some software or other piece of musical equipment. Or as some artists do, simply jam until it sounds good, and then keep this, improve and repeat. Then, after a lot of practice, when it eventually comes to recording the song, there's production – getting the right balance of sounds, volumes, fades, samples, reverb, or other effects, and giving it all a polish.
But aside from all that there's sometimes a middle process, one that of course can very much overlap with the raw creative element of songwriting, in which perhaps the artist, or indeed someone else, does the arrangement, and that's where this week's topic sits, one in which a song achieves a perfect balance, pace, and progression.
Key part. As key father figure as well as producer and arranger, Quincy Jones with Michael Jackson
But what does arranging mean in music? Sometimes it can point to new, perhaps expanded, or restyled re-workings of songs already published, such as for performance, with an expanded band or orchestra, and that could also count, but this week it is as much, if not more about how original versions are arranged. So that means the arranger takes the essentials of their or another’s song – the main melody, chord progressions, perhaps also bass-line and rhythm, but then fleshes it out, by adding different instruments, or even taking some away, perhaps altering the time signature, or the key in which it is played. Or alternatively they strip it right back, or re-align what instruments come in at different stages.
Before I hear you cry, "but that's every song!" – it isn't. Many songs don't have have much in the way of arrangement, typically those that stick to the essential instruments on which it is original written or rehearsed, but others do – ones with additional instruments, such as from strings to horns, woodwind or other additional parts, adding extra underlying melodies and harmonies, overdubs, textures and sounds, all supporting the main melody and heart of the song.
With a little bit of this, chaps. George knows. Help for the Beatles.
Many songwriters and composers are also, by nature arrangers. They do this to suit the needs, enhance the strengths (and sometimes hide the weaknesses) of a performer, including themselves. The great composers of the past, such as Mozart and Beethoven, would write out all their parts, and have performers in mind, instinctively knowing their singing range, and for example, Mozart pushed these to their limits, and writing for the great English soprano, Nancy Storace (1765–1817).
But not all great composers could arrange. George Gershwin, for example had his Rhapsody in Blue arranged and orchestrated by Ferde Grofé, and many classical pieces have been re-arranged over centuries. Ravel re-arranged Mussorgsky, for example, and modern performers sometimes do the same. As the violist Joshua Bell puts it: "In a way, the highest praise you could give to a composer like Bach was to take and make your own arrangement; it was sort of an homage to that composer and to his work, so it wasn't considered sacrilegious to do something like that."
Equally the great songwriters of the 20th century from Ivor Novello to Cole Porter to Burt Bacharach are also marked by their ability to arrange. And after all, the Beatles learned so much of their craft by the arrangements and guidance of George Martin. So this is where arrangement is very much part of the composing process.
But here are a couple of examples of songs already chosen for other topics. David Bowie's wonderful Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud (previously listed for songs about capital punishment) began as an fairly sparse acoustic B-side for Space Oddity in 1969, featuring Bowie on guitar and Paul Buckmaster on upright bass.
But then, compare this, and for the album version of the same year, in came long-time friend and producer Tony Visconti, who in addition created a full orchestral arrangement, adding parts that undeniably add so much more to the strength and depth of Bowie's central song idea, performance and lyrics:
But the arrangement process can also go the other way. Many songs that could have been full-on and drowned in sound can have arrangements that are stripped back, either in the originals or in later versions, where the artist and arranger have shown restraint and maturity, allowing vocals and lyrics to shine out. It's interesting for example that for Elvis Costello's debut album, My Aim Is True, recorded in just six four-hour studio sessions, and helped by producer and arranger Nick Lowe, there are some key songs that could have been much noisier, but weren't.
Cleverly arranged: Elvis Costello with Nick Lowe
But to continue to the thread of this theme, let's go back to Bowie and see the reverse process. Diamond Dogs was released in the post-kill-off-Ziggy stage of his career in 1974. An extraordinary album in many ways, it saw Bowie retain guitarist Mick Ronson, and he was also reunited with producer and arranger Tony Visconti. Sweet Thing for example then is a mix of glam rock and more experimental ideas, including some tinkering piano oddities and all kinds of fills, but it is arguably a bit of a everything-including-the-kitchen-sink arrangement:
But then from the album Bowie Songs One, there's Sweet Thing sung by David McAlmont, arranged by and performed with the pianist Clifford Slapper, author of a book about Bowie's great pianist Mike Garson. It shows that you can take a great song, as most of Bowie's work indeed is, but strip it back to just vocals and piano, and allow new aspects of it to shine out:
So this week, in nominating examples, as usual let's cast the net wide and far, taking in many genres, including the great jazz arrangers, such Jelly Roll Morton, or Sammy Nestico and Neal Hefti for Count Basie's big band, or Billy Strayhorn for the Duke Ellington band. Arrangements are a major part of the jazz world, crucial and often very challenging to players. The great drummer Roy Haynes says this of that part of Thelonius Monk's role:
"There was a lot that was tricky about playing with him. It's a musical language where there's really no lyrics. It's something you feel and you're hearing. It's like an ongoing conversation. You really had to listen to this guy. He could play the strangest tempos, and they could be very in-between tempos on some of those compositions. You really had to listen to his arrangements and the way he would play them. On his solos, you'd really have to listen good in there. You'd have to concentrate on what you were doing as well.”
Vocal arrangements are also something to look for in this week’s topic. Brian Wilson is of course an obvious vocal arranger, but who inspired him? The Four Freshmen or other such vocal groups? And more recently, it might be worth consider those who do the vocal arrangements for bands who are heavily characterised by their vocal harmonies, such as Fleet Foxes’s Robin Pecknold.
Many of the great arranger/composers also come in film and TV theme genre, from Ennio Morricone to Henry Mancini to Tony Hatch.
Who else is in the Bar to talk about arrangements? Artists from the past and present are here to tell us more.
“When I sing a tune, the lyrics are important to me. Most of the standard lyrics I know well. And as soon as I hear an arrangement, I get ideas, kind of like blowing a horn. I guess I never sing a tune the same way twice,” trills the divine Sarah Vaughan.
For some, the art of arrangement is very much part of the natural progression. “It's a very organic process, and it has a specific order to it. I love to write, and once you've written, then you arrange. After the arrangement, you record it, and then you tour it.” says Joan Armatrading.
“Well, I just let the emotion dictate what the arrangement is,” adds Jeff Buckley.
“When I listen to a record, or when I'm making a record, I listen to everything. I listen to the drums, the bass, the voice, the arrangement. I listen to the whole piece as an ensemble. I don't only listen to the guitar player.” says Paul Weller.
Burt Bacharach and Hal David
Steely Dan’s Walter Becker is also here, giving us a specific example: “Deacon Blues was special for me. It's the only time I remember mixing a record all day and, when the mix was done, feeling like I wanted to hear it over and over again. It was the comprehensive sound of the thing: the song itself, its character, the way the instruments sounded, and the way Tom Scott's tight horn arrangement fit in.”
If you’re bringing in new instruments and therefore musicians, how do you restrict that? Here’s Feist with a methodology: “The idea of having one ensemble do everything is what was on 'Sea Lion' and that's what I tried to make happen for 'Metals,' which is having five people in the room and all of us contributing equally to every arrangement and every song.”
For some artists, the arrangement is absolutely key to the process. “I like to explore a lot of textural, arrangement aspects in the studio,” says David Sylvian.
But do some tinker with arrangements too much? Peter Gabriel admits this from his prog past and more, but he’s learning: “I'm often guilty of overcooking and too much arrangement and throwing too much at it. But I think as I get older, I'm learning better when to be empty and when to be full.”
Talking of full-on, you can never criticise AC/DC for not giving it the works, but Angus and co aren’t really arrangers. This classical arrangement by the Croatian-Slovenian cellist Luka Sulic, of one of their classic songs apparently “took over three months”. Over the top for over the top:
Some arrangements come in response to events. In 1980, reacting to the news of a new president, the great jazz composer Carla Bley decided it was time to re-arrange the US national anthem. “When Ronald Reagan was elected I was on a bus traveling with a band in France. I wrote a little arrangement of The Star Spangled Banner in a minor key.” Many artists have done something to that same tune as a form of protest and it no doubt seems apt today.
On that note, and finally, let’s have some even sillier fun. Here are some not exactly serious altered arrangements of well-known songs, changed from major to a minor key, somehow the mischievous Kam Tacos giving these John Denver and The Tokens numbers a whole new timbre, and subjectively, one might argue, by refreshing their cliche and over-familiarity, a new melancholy and odd beauty:
So then, by special arrangement, I’m delighted to say that this week’s all-seeing eye and ear for this topic is the magnificent magicman! Please arrange your song examples in comments below in time for deadline on Monday 11pm UK time, for playlists published on Wednesday. Let’s all take part(s).
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