MIDI tutorials: string writing 101

One of the most enjoyable gigs I’ve had in recent years is arranging/writing “orchestral” backing tracks for my west-coast band, Helsott.  Much of my formal musical training (AKA “schooling,” which I find accounts really for little in the real world, but hey!) was as a composer.  However, I don’t think I’ve touched a piece of manuscript paper to compose in almost 15 years now! 

The fun thing about doing orchestral arrangements for a metal band, albeit sampled orchestral arrangements, is that it gives me a chance to flex those “classical” muscles I rarely use these days, and it brings that world right into collision with the world I mainly inhabit in my day to day gigging, that of music production.  Not only do I record and produce, but I also have worked as an instructor in vocational music production courses at the college level.  I find it really fun to share tips and tricks for production in the classroom environment; now, as the “mad metal professor,” I’ve decided to start blogging some of my favorites!  And here is my first installment...enjoy.

Create realistic sounding strings with MIDI sequencing:

1. Understand the ranges of the instruments that you’re trying to emulate!  A violin cannot play a D in the middle of the bass clef (D2 in MIDI language), and if your sampler doesn’t use this type of range constraint, you’ll need to KNOW what instruments can play what notes.  Get a textbook on instrumentation/orchestration; the two I recommend are Blatter’s “Instrumentation/Orchestration” and Kennan’s “Technique of Orchestration.”  These are both excellent tutorials on writing for strings and contain real-life examples of good string arranging.  One thing to be aware of, however, is that the designation for middle C in MIDI language and in “classical” writing is different.  In MIDI, C3 is middle C in most cases.  In classical training, it’s C4.  Don’t let that trip you up!

2. Understand typical voicings in orchestral writing.  In general, voicings in chords get tighter the higher the pitch.  Spread out chords.  Unless you’re going for a specific effect, don’t include typical 1/3/5 triadic voicings in your lowest range. 

Voicing on the left, not the right - better for lower ranges

It's even better to spread out these voicings even more!

My hand just can't reach that far.

3. Use more than one track.  How many tracks you use depends on the context and the ease of workflow.  In any given session, I’ll typically use anywhere from four to eight tracks of just strings.  One is always a “string section” with sustained articulations.  Others may include solo strings, individual string sections with specific articulations, pads, etc.  It all depends on the musical context and the arrangement style (when in doubt of “arrangement style,” listen to temp tracks, or a reference of a film score, orchestral work, gaming score, etc., and pay critical attention to the layering you hear).

4. Layer with more than one sampling program or library.  I regularly even mix in synth pads to blend in harmonies, typically with slightly adjusted voicings, although I will also double many notes in chords to reinforce harmonies.  (It all depends on the context, of course.)  A good tip I’ve learned is to start out with your most “realistic” library that you’ve got, even if it’s not that high quality.  Then “pad” it with harmonic pads, string emulators instead of samplers, etc., to deepen in the sound.  Just make sure your transient peaks hit at the same time (see #9 below).  If your time/budget allows, hire a session player or two on a REAL instrument to double what you’ve sequenced - that’s how many Hollywood sessions work!


In case you're wondering what sample libraries I use in my string arrangements for Helsott, it's nothing fancy.  I do NOT believe that you need the "latest and greatest" to make quality recordings if you know how to use what you DO own.  I have an older version of Native Instruments' Komplete bundle - the Kontakt libraries get a lot of mileage in my studio, although I tweak them.  I use a combination of software instruments for pads, along with a couple of hardware synths, including my old beater Roland X6 (my touring synth) and my even older Novation Nova II (the weirdo 90s era performance synth, not the table-top version).  Again, I tweak the hell out of patches.

5. Velocity editing is essential to create a true legato feel.  If you step edit, or use a pencil tool to enter pitch information, you’ll absolutely need to adjust EVERY velocity level to create anything even remotely realistic.  You have 128 values to use in MIDI language.  Use the entire range.

Note: no two velocity stems are created equal.

6. Pay attention to the release of notes in chords (your note off messages).  Keep these synced (to a large extent) but if everything is always perfect, it’s not necessarily going to sound “real.”  Too perfect = sounds like a computer.

7. Adjust articulations/style if it’s possible.  Many software and hardware samplers include mappings for tremolo, sforzando, fortepiano, pizzicato, etc.  Automate and adjust accordingly.  Keep in mind that in sustained articulations the timing will differ from sforzando articulations, which typically will contain the bloom of the attack right ON the MIDI on message.  If you don’t have this facility, you can accomplish the same type of thing (with the exception of tremolo and pizz) simply by automating the envelope (ADSR values).  Typically ADSR values are mapped to CC information, so they can be edited within your sequence.


If I'm speaking gibberish with the terms pizzicato, sforzando, etc., definitely check out one of those textbooks mentioned above in tip #1!  This stuff is helpful to know.

 Screenshot from a default cello patch in Kontakt.

Click on pic for larger version - note mapping of articulations!

These are below the range of the instrument - input them as a "note on" message.

I embed articulation messages in EVERY MIDI region, believe it or not!

8. ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT TIPS EVER!!!  The bloom of the envelope (your transient peaks in audio-speak) should hit ON the beat, not after, otherwise everything will sound late.  Don’t just trust quantization - you’ll need to adjust by ticks/samples depending on the sequencing program you’re using.  I’ve been known to adjust note on messages by as much 30-40 milliseconds with slow, soft, sustained passages.  It’s best to go through phrase by phrase to make these adjustments - what works in some phrases won’t work in others depending on the articulations you’re using.  One tip, however - save a version of your MIDI file BEFORE doing this editing with hard quantization values (everything ON the grid), and export as a type 1 file (the type that preserves discrete track information).  This can be super useful if you switch over to another sampling library, another sequencing program, or if you ever end up working with REAL string players...you can import MIDI files into notation programs like Finale and Sibelius.  On a side note in terms of quantization, I almost NEVER use straight 100% quantizations in order to create a more “human” feel, although I will include a hard quantized version of any session I do in order to export accurate MIDI files to Sibelius (my current notation program of choice, as it syncs with the version of Pro Tools that I’m on!).  Look for “randomization” or “humanize” functions in your sequencing software to accomplish this.

9. When it comes to mixing sampled strings, I will almost always export each track as a separate audio track and then mix in my DAW of choice (Pro Tools).  Do NOT rely on MIDI automation in the mix context.  Yes, 128 values seems like a lot, right?  Nope.  It’s not, not in terms of resolution!

Hope these tips help you take your “string writing” to the next level!  Questions?  Comment below, or ask me on facebook/twitter!

Here I am, having fun on stage with Helsott, on the Paganfest America tour.

photo courtesy of Stellavor Images, ©2013

lessons from the road 101

As many of you likely know, one of my many jobs is as a college professor.  I’ve been teaching at the college level now for about twelve to thirteen years, and for the past eight years have even held a full-time, tenured position at a community college in California.  Teaching is a big part of my life, but not ALL of it...

I just spent a month on the road with one of my metal bands, Helsott.  We were on the Paganfest America tour with Ensiferum, Tyr, Heidevolk (my latest obsession! - don’t get me started!!!) and TrollfesT.  Crazy, as I’ve never made the sacrifice to go on tour before...this was a first for me.  For those of you who aren’t familiar, there are ways to make money making music, and then there are ways to make music that feed your soul.  On rare occasions, these two phenomena coincide, but the vast majority of times, they don’t.  I’d been slanted more toward the “I’m a gig whore” variety of musician for many years and if it was about the “experience,” I wasn’t even remotely willing to entertain the thought.

However, a few years ago, I had an epiphany.  Playing church gigs, singing early music and teaching college - while financially more lucrative than most musical endeavors - just weren’t cutting it for me anymore.  Boring, with a capital “B!”  My life had clearly swung to a side of the pendulum with which my somewhat edgy, snarky self did not resonate.  I remember a specific moment when I was in my late 20s, getting ready to go to work to teach yet another night class.  I opened up my closet to a range of very “appropriate” teacher-ly attire from places like the Gap and Banana Republic.  And suddenly, I was horrified.  I cried to myself, “THIS IS NOT MY LIFE.”

Then I joined a metal band, and the rest is history.

Going on the road was a humbling experience for me, as well as exhilarating.  Here I am, a 35-year old woman and self-proclaimed “crazy cat lady,” who’s going on a major tour...her FIRST ever, despite being a successful working musician in her adult life.  It was sort of the ultimate validation for me, that I’m actually only crazy in a GOOD way, rather than in a stupid, delusional, “you’re just having a midlife crisis” kind of way.  By the way, I’m really sick of people telling me this is the case...I can’t figure out why some people are so threatened by others who actually have the BALLS to live their dreams.  I’ve sacrificed more than any of you could possibly know to do what I’m doing now, including family relationships, and it’s been heart-breaking to see how some folks just aren’t willing to let me be MYSELF.  

What was most difficult for me was the fact that I AM INDEED 35.  I was older than virtually everyone else on the tour, and being surrounded by a bunch of guys in their 20s was a bit “interesting.”  Plus, I’m sober, so I don’t drink or smoke or party in *that* sense - ANYMORE.  Believe me, I used to rock it with the best of ‘em, but I’m fucking old now and I’m just not a fan of endless hangovers anymore.  I got over that about 13 years ago.  If other folks want to do this, cool.  I just get tired of people giving me shit when I don’t.  It’s my choice and my prerogative.  I don’t judge others for their own choices, so why judge me for mine?  That got old.

I came home from nearly a month on the road about a week ago, and have mainly been languishing on the couch in my own snot due to some horrific “tour plague” that’s seemingly killed me more than the other folks in any of the other bands.  Perhaps that’s because I’m old...who knows, but in any case it’s sucked.  It has, however, given me plenty of time between reruns of Ancient Aliens to ponder what lessons I’ve learned from the road.  And these are what I would like to share with you, readers, in case you ever have the opportunity to go on a major metal tour for the first time when you’re an old lady (or man).  I just have to teach...it’s in my blood!

1. Worn out discount 10 dollar “I can’t believe it’s not leather pants” from H&M are not appropriate stage attire.  They WILL rip in the most embarrassing place (right at the ass cheek) and at the most inopportune moment (when you have run out of clean underwear and have had to resort to white, floral granny panties).  Suddenly a large crowd in Seattle will know of your predicament.

2. Part of “livin’ the dream” is being able to tolerate living in a van and sleeping in shifts while sitting up.  Don’t bitch.  Everyone else will tell you how much worse they feel than you.  And because everyone is sleep-deprived (and likely hung over), feeling like shit is relative and also infinitely tragic.  One can’t compare feeling-like-shit-ness.  It’s incomparable to personal I-feel-like-shit-ness-because-I’ve-been-sleeping-sitting-up-for-seven-days-straight-now-and-my-back-fucking-hurts.

3. Pack a good supply of ear plugs, hand sanitizer, foot spray, Febreze and baby wipes.  Ear plugs for the resonant snoring inside of said van with six men (this was somewhat of a symphony each night and I wish I had only thought to sample this brilliant cacophony of polyrhythm).  Hand sanitizer for when you inadvertently reach into a bag to grab a clean hoodie on which someone has just vomited (and of which you were previously unaware). Foot spray and Febreze should be self-explanatory, thanks.  And baby wipes...oh yes...when you are told that no one in four bands gets showers because one day the hot water ran out for the headliners, you will NEED those baby wipes.  Badly.  Additionally, I can guarantee that you will encounter venues which have no green room and onesies for restrooms with no locks on the door.  Don’t believe the bartender when she tells you that she’ll “watch the men’s room door” for you while you take a “sink shower,” as someone will undoubtedly walk in on you while you’re in the middle of washing out your armpits, topless.  Oh, and there will be a line of ten guys waiting for the bathroom who will witness this.  (Thanks, Reno, Nevada.)  Lesson learned?  Baby wipes.  Put a blanket over you in the van and use the baby wipes.

4. Roll with the punches.  Everything becomes incredibly surreal at a certain point, and things which are definitely NOT normal just have to be accepted as part of life.  Pick your battles.  Case in point?  A certain male band member (who will remain nameless as I am very professional!) had to be tolerated each and every day when he decided that the most appropriate place to take a monstrous dump was ALWAYS in the ladies’ room.  It didn’t matter if his band had a nice green room or if there was a clean men’s room with locking doors backstage.  Nope.  He could only “output” in the public ladies’ room.  With the door wide open.  It was like it was his mission to literally leave his mark in the ladies’ room each day.  As one of the only female musicians on the tour, you can either roll with it or not.  If not, he may poop on you, and that would suck.  And you may run out of baby wipes.

5. Entertain yourself.  People will get into trouble.  People will fall on top of you (large, heavy, and extraordinarily smelly people, I may add, remembering an instance at the San Francisco venue).  People will puke in your travel bag and not remember it in the morning.  People will randomly leave their soiled underwear just laying around haphazardly.  To avoid getting into trouble yourself, bring a nice supply of papers to grade and a book of crossword puzzles.  You are wholesome after all, yes, being that you’re a middle-aged teacher?  This way, you can have an excuse to gawk at endless shenanigans of half-dressed (in some cases yet in others completely “full Monty”), somewhat socially-inept and seemingly perpetually inebriated musicians and laugh to yourself...all while pretending that you’re completely engrossed in the Sunday Times.  Shit, I just blew my cover...

So, there you go.  Lessons from the road, 101, for 35 year old beginners.  Hope you don’t have to learn these the “hard way” as I did!

what you see isn't exactly what you get

Today’s blog entry isn’t exactly about the music, per se.  However, this is part of a long string of planned musings on what I call “livin’ the dream” - the crap that goes on behind the scenes that no one really warns you about when you embark on the mission of becoming a successful working musician.  If you’re doing your job well, no one sees this sh*t either.  Well, I’m about to blow the “cover” - what you see ain’t exactly what you get.  I ranted in one of my last blog posts about a pet peeve: when folks gush to me, “you’re sooooo lucky to do what you love.”  This is well-meaning, but certainly is a bit of ignorant and somewhat offensive statement.  These people seem to think music comes pouring forth from my soul, with no effort, sweat, suffering or tears.  It just magically “happens.”  Aren’t I lucky that I don’t have to toil away, day after day, year after year?

Being a musician is a lot of work.  And it’s not just about making music.  OK - we all spend money on lessons, on instruments, on gear, on professional-level “tools of the trade,” etc...we practice endless hours, often foregoing social activities in lieu of perfecting our craft.  This is obvious.  The other part of being a WORKING musician...meaning being a musician that makes a living by making music with no real day job (not an easy endeavor)...is multi-tasking, meaning that one has to wear many hats all at the same time.  Publicity.  Web design.  Graphic design.  Video editing.  Schmoozing.  And - if you’re a WOMAN, you have to worry a bit more about your appearance.  I’m just going to SAY IT; I’m as ardent of a feminist as you can imagine, but I’m also practical.  I do realize that if I let myself go completely “Amazonian” - as in forego personal grooming and appear on stage in a pair of fishnet stockings with epic leg hair poking out through the holes - that I may not be taken seriously by my audience.  Look, people, I play in several metal bands, and that’s a culture that historically has women as the minority in the audience.  It’s changing now, to be certain (finally!!!), but still you’ll find no lines in the ladies’ rooms at most shows while the men’s room line is around the corner.  I have also dealt with sound guys and audience members who wouldn’t believe that I was in the band, as “chicks can’t play metal.”  Yes, and this has happened in the 21st century!

But I digress...this post is supposed to be part of the series in my “livin’ the dream” essays.  At the moment, I’m playing with an amazing pagan metal band, Helsott.  We’re about to go on our first North American tour, a big festival called Paganfest, along with Ensiferum, Tyr, Heidevolk and Trollfest.  (Google these names if you’re not a metal fan - trust me, this is a pretty big deal.)  I’m kind of the “session musician” of the band.  I do their “orchestral” arrangements, play the keyboards, sing the operatic female vocals - I’m the screaming Valkyrie in the background, and I produced their backing tracks.  It’s great fun.  On occasion, I fly out for the bigger shows, which are always a blast.  I’ve rehearsed with the guys a grand total of TWO times ever, so when I play shows, it’s usually “cold”...meaning I jump on stage and go, without the benefit of much rehearsal time.  This is not for the faint of heart.  I think I make it look easy, as I sing well, play well and can “windmill” my hair with the best of them while staying in time.  Yet the whole time, I’m about to crap my leather pants due to nerves....so there I stand, looking fearless on stage, squeezing that sphincter with all of my might...

Glamorous, right?

Last summer, we shot our first official music video.  I flew out to California from Massachusetts the night before the shoot; our flights were all delayed (I was traveling with the hubby, as we was going to a week-long institute in Los Angeles), and I ended up having to gate-check my baggage, which can be a fate worse than death for a touring or traveling musician (never, ever part ways with your clean underwear...no good!!!).  We didn’t arrive into LAX until 12:30 in the morning, and our bags didn’t come out...didn’t come out...didn’t come out.  I was having a coronary, knowing I had a shoot in the morning, and no clean panties, let alone my age-defying makeup, which in the case of a hi-def video shoot is a bit more important to my vanity than the undies.  The airline employees apparently “forgot” a few bags out on the tarmac including mine.  We eventually got the bags...and then had the distinct pleasure of dealing with Alamo Rent-A-Car at 2 am, heading to our rental and upon discovering that the car was missing from its stall, had to wait again in the line.  As thrilling as this was, the best part was arriving starving to the motel at 3 am and checking in (airlines don’t feed you anymore, and there’s not even food for purchase on Southwest).  Oh, and did I mention I was staying in Inglewood?  Nothing was open except for a few taco stands that served double-duty as gang hangouts.  Charming.  I went to bed hungry.

I was in bed at 4 am, and the guys from Helsott picked me up the next morning about six hours later to head to the shoot.  Originally, we were going to shoot this in front of a green screen in a studio, but the directors decided it might be more interesting to do this outside “on location” near Mt. Baldy.  It was just a “short walk” from the parking lot.  I was thinking, no problem, I’ll do my hair and makeup before and then just change into my requisite skintight leather pants once we got to the location.  I brought my tiny carry-on suitcase with me, including a little kid’s Hello Kitty blankie that I travel with often in case I need to nap somewhere (it’s soft and compact, so it works great to keep with me when I’m on the road...oh and let’s face it, I’m not that tough and I think it’s cute).  We rolled into the parking lot around noon, and it was - I kid you not - 107 DEGREES.  Riverside County in August is HOT.  The directors pointed us in the direction of the “short walk” we’d need to take to the shoot.  Instead of a stroll down a trail, we were faced with the prospect of heading down hilly single-track horse trail in 107 DEGREE HEAT for about a mile or so, CARRYING ALL OF OUR GEAR.

Yup.  Remember that word “glamorous?”

This was awesome.  Everyone was panting, sweating, dying in the heat...luckily, Mark (one of our guitarists) had a flat of bottled water in the back of his work truck that we somehow thought to bring with us.  (Lugging kick drums down a mile of horse trail in August?  Oh yeah.  You’ll get thirsty doing that.)  I was seriously regretting wearing my usual uniform of a black t-shirt, jeans and Vans by this point, let alone neglecting to bring any toilet paper with me as I was forced to “drip dry” anytime I had to pee behind a rock.  By the time we got to the location for the shoot, we were all pretty much thrashed.  After resting for a half-hour or so, I decided that I was “dry” enough (meaning that my sweat had crusted to salt, matting most of my hair) to change into my clothes for the shoot.

Let me paint you a picture at this point.  It’s dry and dusty.  We’re in a canyon in 107 degree heat, under the coverage of some trees but still the heat of the day is oppressive.  I’ve got black eyeliner and mascara running down my face - a bad case of “raccoon eyes” and salt rings under my armpits.  And I’m out there as the only woman with EIGHT metal guys (the type with long hair, long beards...the absolute nicest, most wonderful, kindest group of dudes you’d ever want to meet, but they don’t exactly look that way to people who aren’t familiar with metal culture) in the middle of nowhere.  Just another day’s work!

I decided to preserve some shred of modesty by pulling the ol’ “surfer trick” while changing my clothes by wrapping my Hello Kitty blankie around my waist, and stripping underneath.  Again, this is a kiddie blanket, so it’s a bit smaller than an average beach towel.  I get my sweaty, nasty jeans off, and I’m standing there with no pants on, perched barefoot on a rock, balancing on one leg, probably flashing my parts to all of nature as I try to hold up the blanket and simultaneously (unsuccessfully) attempt to squeeze into aforementioned sexy leather pants.  Skintight leather pants are exceedingly difficult to squeeze into in normal, daily life; I was on the road for about three weeks prior to this shoot, eating inordinate amounts of chicken fried steak in diners in backwoods Iowa, so this complicated matters, along with the stickiness of my sweaty legs.

As I’m in mid-perch, attempting to be somewhat discreet, suddenly a woman on horseback appears on the trail...FOLLOWED BY ABOUT THIRTY SCHOOL KIDS also on horseback.  The look on her face was absolutely priceless, as she stopped and asked our singer, “What are you guys doing out here?”

And Eric answers: “Shooting a video.”  He didn’t clarify the fact that this was a music video, just a video.  As I’m standing there with no pants on among eight guys.  Hmmmm.

The video was just released this past week.  It looks pretty good for a first video.  And one would never know that we were all on the verge of heat stroke.  I particularly like the comments on youtube...especially ones that say things like “the keyboard player is hot.”  Wow, thanks...good to know I can pull this off, in leather pants, in 107 degree heat, lip-syncing in the woods...

When I went to conservatory, no one ever told me that these were all going to be necessary skills in my career.  But there it is...livin’ the dream, baby!