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I want to talk briefly about the overall sound of the Clockwork Quartet.

In my first meeting with Ed we discussed the sorts of instruments we wanted to use. We were both clear that we wanted plenty of percussion, but that it should be unusual stuff – i.e. no drums, cymbals or the like. Joe Schermoly has been hard at work putting together an “alternative” kit for us out of scrap metal. Then accordions were an obvious choice, and Ed convinced me that plenty of banjos were the way forward. I was initially keen on a trombone or equivalent, as brass and steampunk go together like, well, steampunk and brass. However, we realised that finding a trombonist might be tricky, and it’s not quite as versatile an instrument as we needed (unless it’s played really really well), so we compromised by including the Steam Drone.

But aside from the actual instruments the show is written for, it’s easier to talk about what we don’t sound like than what we do.

Despite my original intention was to write something that was primarily a standalone narrative show, it was never my intention that it sound like a piece of musical theatre. In fact the whole point of the project for me was to find a way of telling stories over the course of a series of songs without resorting to a set of tired theatrical clichés.

Neither did we want to sound like other bands that have dubbed themselves “steampunk”. While there are a few such bands out there, they tend to resort to sampled beats and synths, embracing the “future” element of retro-futurism rather more than the “retro”. Which, while some of these bands to their thing very well, doesn’t sound different enough to mainstream music to excite us. (Apologies to the several smaller non-electro steampunk bands out there – I am basing my assessment of the current steampunk music “scene” on what Wikipedia tells me are the largest bands. Trend-buckers are noted and admired).

Which isn’t to say our goal is to faithfully re-create the sounds that 19th century Londoners were moshing to. I have no desire whatsoever to reproduce the 1850 – 1930 music hall style, despite its narrative traditions and emphasis (before recording as a technology even existed) on live performance.

So what are we trying to sound like? Well, there are several goals. The first is to make songs that are singable. We want people who listen to our songs to find themselves humming them later. This is easy enough to do by itself (c.f. pop music in the 20th century), but made harder by the attempt to tell complete stories over the course of a few songs. More story = more lyrics = more complex tunes = harder on the ear. But it’s a balance we’re attempting to strike. So, for example, in The Watchmaker’s Apprentice there’s a standard verse/chorus structure, but the lyrics for each chorus are completely different, because we wouldn’t have fitted the whole tale into the song had we wasted time repeating words.

The second is to engage our listeners emotionally/emotively through the music as well as the lyrics. At the most basic level we use a lot of percussion, because human beings respond profoundly and instinctively to a beat. The songs move beyond (dull) four-chord repetitions, but there are repeated chordal structures, because something you can recognise is something you can relate to. The textures are as full as I can make them with the instruments available, and I try to write the arrangements so that, for example, if we suddenly modulate to a minor key you really feel it. You’ll have to wait for the next online releases/live shows to decide whether or not I succeeded.

The final goal is to unsettle our audience. Not alienate them, not hurt them, just take them slightly outside what they are used to, enough that they sit forward in their seats rather than back. So for example, a song we’re rehearsing at the moment, called “The Ineluctable Progress of Medical Science”, switches between 5 and 3-time, so that the occasional bar catches you off guard. Likewise, “Withering Eyes” (for which we are recording the last tracks on Monday) has a 16-bar “verse” section that keeps threatening to change to four different keys, while over the top the accordion and violin play melodies that are usually only a semi-tone apart (but it’s all tied together by a really singable melody over the top.

Perhaps that’s not a very clear description of the noise that we collectively make. But it shouldn’t be. If you could fully experience music just by reading about it, what would be the point of ears?

Have patience, good readers. More music will be released online soon, and our first run of shows in September will be announced in the near future. Until then, watch this. And subscribe to our mailing list.

This entry was posted on 16 May 2009 at 1:15 pm and is filed under The Clockwork Quartet . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.