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29.43% Jack of Arts / Chapter 71: Cinematography of Musical Performance

Chapitre 71: Cinematography of Musical Performance

"Oh? You have a band?" Walter asked, the gears in his mind already rolling. "I do. However, I won't consider them as real artists yet. Unlike me who started making music as a child, they have a lot of catching up to do." Tayaw explained. "I see." Walter was a little disappointed. "What music do they play?" Walter asked nonetheless.

"They have a long way playing Country, Walter, if that's what you're asking." Tayaw said. Walter nodded at this. "True. Country music has not caught up in Teungeb. Even when there were a lot of American soldiers who were based there, Teungebians did not like Country that much." Walter understood.

"Yeah. You have no idea how hard it is for a country fan like me." Tayaw confirmed. "Oh. Walter, when you post my video online, can you do something for me?" Tayaw asked. "Sure. Well. I'm not really familiar with all the inter-web stuff. Tell Donald here." Walter passed the question to Donald.

"Can I leave links for my band's YouTube channel as well? I don't really care about the exposure, but my band needs it." Tayaw asked Donald. "Sure. I'm planning to do that for other artists we invite in the future anyway." Donald said. "Thanks." Tayaw said.

"By the way, Isaac. Since you don't want the money, why don't we do this? I have some friends ******* Records. I don't like you staying unknown." Walter said. Tayaw shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, Walter but it will be a waste. May I reserve your offer instead? Maybe in the future, you can help me." Tayaw asked.

"Hmm? What's stopping you? You're already in Nashville." Walter asked in confusion. "I'm here on a visa. An investment visa to be exact. I can't make money or make any deals outside the reason why I'm here." Tayaw explained. This surprised Walter. "So … how do I say this? You're not in America do music?" Walter was dumbfounded.

"No. I was done with my business in New York, so I decided to travel around America before going back home. But because I fell in love with Nashville, I'm here." Tayaw replied. Walter stayed silent after that and just calmly smoked his cigar, Tayaw cannot figure out what Walter is thinking. Seeing Walter, Tayaw mirrored his actions and savored his cigar too.

"Tell me, Isaac. What do you really do?" Walter asked, breaking the silence. Tayaw was about to lie, but thinking back on Walter sharing his war story, Tayaw is conflicted how to answer. Tayaw also thought deeply about Walter's question; what does he really do? Considering the blessing he's been given, what should he do?

"First and foremost, I'm a musician, Walter. Second, I'm an author." Tayaw started. Walter and Donald perked up in interest hearing this. "It just happens that my book was more in demand than my music. Using what I earned from my books, I started investing. That also makes me a part-time businessman." Tayaw explained.

"What books have you written?" Walter asked. Skeptical about Tayaw's identity as an author. "Well. I released two volumes of fairytales. Then just last month, I released my first real novel." Tayaw said. Walter is not a reader of books, much more read something so specific like fairy tales. Donald, however, has a suspicion on Tayaw's identity.

Donald opened his glove box and pulled out his 9 year-old son's favorite book to read in the car. "By any chance, is it this?" Donald passed the book to the back seat for Walter to see. Tayaw is also pleasantly surprised to see that his book made it to Nashville. Walter opened the book to scan what is inside. "Snow White…" Walter muttered and he read on.

A minute later, "Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?" Tayaw beautifully recited as he took a drag from his cigar. Walter also just happened to read that part of the story. "This… How I wish I read this as a child." Walter said as he brushed off the cigar ashes that fell on the pages of the book. "Donald, have you ever met someone this talented?" Walter suddenly asked. "No." Donald simply replied.

"By the way, Walter, when and where do I record?" Tayaw asked, changing the topic. Walter just smiled at the question. "You'll see later on."

December 7, 2011 – Wednesday 10 pm – Greensborough, Tennessee - Outskirts

Tayaw parked his pick-up truck on the parking lot of Red Abbey Brewery after a 30 minute drive. This is not the Red Abbey's main brewery/factory, but a small replica for tourists. Despite being a replica, it has a working machinery system for people to actually see the process of making beer, from raw ingredients to the packing the beer to the can.

"Oh-ho. I see what Walter's tryin to do." Tayaw said, amazed after entering his supposed filming location for three of his songs. In the labeling room, he found a recording set-up of a microphone for his voice and a clip microphone for his guitar. There are also two digital cameras on the left and right side of the microphones, the set-up brightened up by those huge photo studio lamps. On standby is a small crew of a camera director, a lighting specialist, and a sound engineer. It's a small crew, but is enough for a recording like this.

Tayaw's smile is brought upon by a closer look at the continuously moving conveyor belt in the background, rolling seemingly endless cans of beer in a single, orderly line. Tayaw chuckled at this. He could already imagine how the video will come out; Tayaw playing a song with a busy brewery in the background. It's a refreshing look.

After a few pleasantries, the crew made a few adjustments to the equipment, and Tayaw started tuning his instruments and warming up his voice. Before starting however, Tayaw was reminded of his filmmaking skills he got from the giant roulette.

"Fellas. Why don't we do this?" Tayaw instructed the camera man to shoot at a certain angles. The camera man was also glad to listen to Tayaw's suggestion when he realized that the camera angle Tayaw directed him actually looks better than the angle he's planning to shoot at.

Thankfully, the shoot only used two cameras so Tayaw was assured that he did not accidentally teach some revolutionary techniques in filming. After a few more adjustments, Tayaw and the filming crew is finally ready. "Shall we start?" The camera director asked, and Tayaw nodded.

Tayaw then started pressing his foot for the kickdrum to produce low pitch beats, and his guitar shortly joined in.

"Hmm… Yeah..

Preacher, preacher, come save me…"

Tayaw's morning was spent recording three songs in the factory. Him and the crew started with 'Devil's suit and tie' at the labeling room with the conveyor belt in the background. Tayaw then suggested to the filming crew to move on to other parts of the brewery instead of shooting everything in the labeling room, which was Walter's plan.

Next was 'Belle O'Brien' on the cellar with rows of shelves filled with beer in the background, and finally 'Invisible Man' at the wort separation room with shiny silver water tanks in the background.

Tayaw also suggested keeping some of the background noises of the brewery to the audio to add a more candid effect and feeling to the videos.

After a late lunch break, Tayaw and the crew travelled to a wheat field nearby where Tayaw played his three more songs that roots more from Folk, which included Tayaw's 'My Home'. With the wheat field in the background, and a pristine "Red Abbey Brewery" sign the crew just erected in the background, the video shot would still look like it was recorded for "Red Abbey Records".

This time, Tayaw did not suggest anything else to the filming crew as he found that a wheat field is enough of a backdrop to help achieve the desired effect of the videos.

"Great work, everyone." Tayaw said to the crew. It was already 3 pm by the time they're done. "No. You did great. Had it been anyone else, we would have been here until 9." The sound guy said. "True. Most of the people we tape, they sound great on the radio, but they don't sound as good live." The camera guy said.

Tayaw was curious at this statement. In his previous life, Tayaw witnessed a lot of singers produced by entertainment companies who are not traditionally musically skilled or talented. The entertainment companies would find good-looking and charismatic people, train them for a bit, and have these people do music.

While these people would train, the entertainment companies would market them to gather as much fanfare as possible. When it came time for these good-looking people to debut, the company would make big bucks.

However, these singers, who were not passionate about music in the first place, would often disappoint people when they step on live stages. While this process of the entertainment companies would unearth hidden gems, actual artists and talented musicians, they would be overwhelmingly outnumbered by those singers who will fade into obscurity after their debut.

While this would happen most often in the electronic pop music, Tayaw is seeing signs of such factory-like process in country music itself. This is why Tayaw held disdain to the current music scene in Nashville and decided to bring back the outlaw, Americana, and Blues roots to his gigs in Blackbird café.

However, the music companies of Nashville still would actually look for talented singers who can sing their factory produced songs. This is why Tayaw is confused that country singers would also sound bad live.

"Really? Even country?" Tayaw asked. "Oh. Even country. But hey, at least we don't record pop where the singer would spend an entire afternoon just for one song. We don't get to work for the famous ones, so we avoid working for pop singers." The sound guy said. Tayaw nodded at this. There are too many pop singers, but the few famous at the top are the only ones who are actually consistent and great singers.

After packing up the equipment, they saw a man approach them on a dirt bike. "Hey fellas. Is there an Isaac among you?" The man asked. "I am." Tayaw replied. "Donald prepared some barbecue and beer for y'all." The man said. This made Tayaw and the crew excited and they jumped to their vehicles and followed the man to the wheat farm's barn.


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