You Would Be Happier If You Stopped Lying to Yourself

I recently finished a record I had not intended to finish for at least another two or three months. I know it is finished because each piece defines specific interests I had been working with and does so in often beautiful, challenging and/or humorous ways. I had been toying with the idea of an “electronic” live-improvised recording since January of this year, and began work on the project in earnest in February.
After a distracting explosion of creative activity, an explosion when I should have been sleeping, mostly…I recorded roughly 45 minutes of additional material and suddenly found myself with piles and piles of possible product. After some editing (trimming of false starts, or stopping a piece right before it started to lag), I concluded that the record was complete. All that was left to do was master the recording. This took rarely any time or effort, as many of the tracks were performed “live” with similar concerns for decibels and peak avoidance. After some mild track compression/limiting and vague volume adjustment, I closed the book on the recordings and breathed a strange sigh of relief.
The record is what I would call an electro-acoustic record featuring either live input or loop/sample recordings of real instruments, edited, twisted, manipulated, and forced into evolution by the technology interacting with it. The technology was tweaked and defined by the composer/improviser (i.e. me).

It must be noted, however that much of the final performances were benefited from pre-designed tools and a very creatively supportive digital working environment. The program itself was that from a company calling itself “Plogue Art et Technologie;” the program carrying the name ‘Bidule.’ I have mentioned this program before in my blog, but this post is meant to officially declare ‘Bidule’ as the sole product used in processing and performing this music. When my initial working demo-period ended, I immediately purchased the light version.
Certainly samples from previous recordings were also used, and these samples were recorded on whatever technology that provided the capture. Everything on this record was coaxed out of the samples/loops and instruments live and recorded straight to two-track stereo.
And now about the record itself, enough about the process for now.
The record is called “You would be happier if you stopped lying to yourself” and like my other instrumental records is not released under some sort of moniker, but my own name.
Here is a tracklisting…
- Canadian Rockees
- Medicine
- Piccolo Sample
- You Would Be Happier If You Stopped Lying to Yourself
- Sunset Through Trees
- It’s Not Really the Mustard I Wanted, Honestly
- Hydrate Level 4 Please
- Piccolo Sample (reprise)
- Rainin’ and A-Rainin’
The record (in hard copy form) will only be available for sale through the Grammy Hall Records and Mike Vasas websites in small numbers, possibly 25 CDs like “January Songs.” The record will be available for purchase through Itunes in unlimited numbers for a significantly cheaper price.
Because of the Beasts of Burden release, and the Early Minor Quintet record (or records), “You Would Be Happier If You Stopped Lying to Yourself” will be released through Grammy Hall Records most likely in November or December, despite being completely finished, mastered and ready for production right now.
Extended Info…
An extended sound piece designed to be experienced in a large auditorium fitted with surround sound speaker systems and all sorts of interesting environmental panning. Unfortunately, two-track stereo will have to do. Hazy, unfolding slowly, the piece really captures everything environmental I love about ‘Bidule.’ The second word in the title is purposefully spelled in that manner.
For those who follow mikevasas.com closely, this piece will seem familiar, although it has been tweaked and re-performed since appearing in my audio diary. Simple harmonic states breathe into the sound-bed rather than appearing too quickly.
I hope people find this piece funny, because it should be. At once squawking and then mellow, the piece was tentatively entitled “duck attack” until recently when I witnessed an extremely disturbing animal encounter on the freeway with smalls birds and giant semi tractor-trailer.
The title track is a focus on rhythmic repetition and the listeners’ ability to perceive subtle change, and the improviser’s ability to value repetition.
Slow reduction is the name of the game on this track. Imagined this song as I drove from Lansing-area to Detroit-area watching the sun blink on and off (through trees of course), eventually I started wondering if one could notice this blinking at walking speed.
Implied rhythmic elements vs. actual redundant rhythmic elements was the focus in this piece, but I also spent a long time creating the almost seemingly randomly shifting drone and piano parts that surround the piece. Dark and moody in the way post-modern teens get when their parents buy the wrong mustard.
A short little ditty that features my sampled vocals processed as a bass line. Too much coffee and a mute button also creates strange effects. I think it’s a fun little bit.
A groove, some slippery noise, a rejected and failed trance synthesizer, and more odd woodwind bleeps. This one features the same start-up patch as the other piece on the record with a similar name.
Like Sunset Through Trees, only one chord is used throughout this piece despite its many inversions. The organ settings were pre-recorded and then processed down multiple octaves, EQed so not to blow out your subwoofers, and then musically allowed to move at its own pace as the piano is run through a massive delay unit (much akin to January Songs). The title is a reference to one of my late grandmother’s statements about the weather when she had aphasia. I worked out this piece during a rain that lasted for almost 2 weeks.












