instruments
All about musical instruments, their tunes, and the people that play them.
My Exclusive Interview With Alessandra Levy
In a world of digital music production, Alessandra Levy still takes an old-school approach with her Music Production Center (MPC) that dates back to the 90s. This model has everything you'd expect from a piece of analog technology—large grey buttons, beige colors, a tiny digital screen—but these limitations help Levy produce fun, eclectic beats that earned the artist a large social media following. With nearly 50,000 followers on Instagram alone, Levy's introducing the MPC60II to a whole new audience, and this interview gives you a look at the skills, education and technology that made Levy a rising Internet star.
By Kaitlin Shanksa day ago in Beat
My Exclusive Interview With Jane Rey
From ghost sightings in Raleigh to photoshoots with gothic metal bands, Jane Rey's had a lot of adventures in her career. Her photography helps local bands get more exposure and relive their best performances, and while not every photographer is up to the challenge, Rey's skills allow her to capture the perfect shot in the midst of the rowdiest crowds and darkest venues. Luckily, she doesn't hide her secrets from the public; in fact, she was willing to go in depth for an interview that may transform the way you think about music photography.
By Kaitlin Shanks11 days ago in Beat
My Exclusive Interview With Lavender Fire
Lavender Fire isn't afraid to let her performances speak for themselves, and when you listen to her music, you can't help but admire her clean, stripped-down production that allows her piano and vocals to shine through. Most of her songs also tell a personal story, turning her albums into a tapestry of lessons and life experiences. This interview explores her background, her inspirations and the recurring symbolism in her work—and once you're armed with this knowledge, you'll never listen to her albums the same way again.
By Kaitlin Shanks12 days ago in Beat
Sinister Fate: A First‑Hand Look at Chicago’s Long‑Running Shock‑Rock Trio. Content Warning.
There’s a certain kind of band that doesn’t just play music — they survive it. They bleed into it. They build something out of the chaos life hands them and then scream it back into the world with amps turned up high enough to rattle the bones of anyone standing too close. That’s Sinister Fate.
By Syl De'Vil18 days ago in Beat
My Exclusive Interview With Diana Ringo
As a child prodigy who grew up to be a pianist, songwriter and film composer, Diana Ringo has the type of career that other artists dream about. Her eclectic career includes directing credits for the films 1984 and Quarantine , a photoshoot with Playboy Spain and master classes with David Lynch and Paul Verhoeven. However, music is still the center of her professional life--and whether she's writing piano compositions or recording darkwave records, her work is anything but boring. If you're ready to learn from the master, here's a glimpse into the life of a musician who does it all.
By Kaitlin Shanks18 days ago in Beat
Notes from the Mind Palace.
Music doesn’t just “inspire” me. It rewires me. It grabs my skull like it’s trying to tune a radio, and suddenly every part of me snaps into alignment. My thoughts stop tripping over each other. My nerves stop buzzing. The world gets quieter, even when the volume is stupidly loud. I don’t listen to music — I use it. The louder the music gets, the quieter those internal voices become — the ones that try to tell me I’m nothing, the ones that show up when I’m tired or hurting or stretched too thin. Volume becomes a shield. Bass becomes a boundary. A song becomes the thing that steps between me and the parts of my mind that don’t always play fair. It even helps with the autoimmune pain. Not in some magical “healing frequency” way — just in the way drowning in sound gives me something stronger to focus on than the ache. When the music is loud enough, my body stops screaming for a minute. I get a little space. A little breath. A little control. It’s the switch that flips me from “overstimulated parent with seven kids doing parkour through my sanity” to “feral writer pacing the room like a crow deciding which shiny object to steal.” If the song hits right, my whole brain goes cinematic. I stop seeing words and start seeing scenes: fog rolling in, headlights cutting through it, someone yelling in the distance, maybe something crawling out of the dark that shouldn’t exist. Music is the fuse that lights all of that. People think playlists are just background noise. Mine are battle plans . Each song is a mood, a memory, a weapon. Some tracks drag me back to Maine. Some drag me into the fog. Some drag me into the parts of my head I don’t talk about unless I’m writing. And some songs hit so hard I feel like I’m remembering a life I didn’t actually live. Music is the only thing that can match the chaos in my head without getting drowned out. It’s the one thing that keeps me steady. It’s the one thing that makes the stories come out clean instead of tangled. Music doesn’t just affect me. It possesses me. And honestly, I let it — because it’s one of the few things that makes the noise inside me survivable. Music doesn’t just affect me — it kidnaps me. It drags me by the hair into whatever universe it feels like throwing me into. And the louder it is, the quieter everything else gets. The voices that tell me I’m nothing? They get smothered under layers of distortion and screaming. They can’t compete with a sonic avalanche. I listen too loud everywhere. Car? Loud enough to rattle the bolts out of the doors. Shower? Loud enough the shampoo vibrates. Headphones? Weak. Earbuds? Pathetic. Party speaker? Coward. Nothing gets loud enough. So I keep turning it up anyway. Because when Yeah Yeah Yeahs — “Y Control” hits, something in my chest snaps awake. It’s like someone kicked the generator in my soul and yelled RUN . When Tegan and Sara — “Dark Come Soon” comes on, the world finally dims enough for me to breathe. Tiger Army — “Valley of Dreams” drowns the autoimmune pain under rhythm and pulse. Choking Victim — “In My Grave” lights a match in my ribcage and tells the darkness to fight back. Rancid — “St. Mary” is every too‑fast drive I’ve ever taken. Bad Brains — “F.V.K.” is adrenaline in audio form. Talking Heads — “Psycho Killer” is the part of my brain that laughs at the chaos, and shakes her butt a little at the sound. Social Distortion — “Far Behind” is grit and memory. something I would rather keep to myself. Bad Religion — “Generator” is the spark that keeps me writing. reminds me that there's more than what you see. Dramarama — “Anything, Anything” is the scream I never let out and the song I sing every time I feel like I could fall in love. then remind myself that love... its not for me. Then there’s The Church — “Reptile” , crawling under my skin like electricity. And Misfits — “Devils Whorehouse” , kicking open the door to the feral part of my brain. But you want chaos? Here’s chaos: Otep — “Special Pets” makes my blood feel like it’s boiling. It’s the one that shuts the internal voices up because they know they can’t compete with that kind of rage. Tool — “The Pot” hits like someone dropped a brick through my skull and rearranged the furniture inside. Mudvayne — “Dig” isn’t a song — it’s a detonation. It’s the moment the world goes white‑hot and I stop feeling anything except the beat. Volbeat — “Still Counting” is the soundtrack of every time I’ve said “I’m fine” while absolutely not being fine. Marilyn Manson — “Kill 4 Me” slinks through my nerves like a threat wrapped in velvet. Chevelle — “Take Out the Gunman” is the pulse that keeps me upright when everything hurts. Incubus — “Nice to Know You” is the moment I slam the door on the past and don’t look back. A Perfect Circle — “Magdalena” turns my brain into a cathedral full of ghosts. Straight Line Stitch — “Conversion” is the part of me that refuses to die, even when everything else is screaming. Wage War — “High Horse” is the moment I stop apologizing for being loud, chaotic, messy, and alive. "Teeth" the song that reminds me exactly where I stand with those in my life. These songs aren’t just tracks — they’re weapons . They’re shields. They’re pressure valves. They’re the only things loud enough to drown out the parts of me that try to drag me under. Music is the only thing that matches the chaos in my head without getting swallowed by it. It’s the one thing that keeps me upright. It’s the one thing that makes the stories come out clean instead of tangled.
By Syl De'Vil29 days ago in Beat
Keb’ Mo’: The Breakdown and the Long Way Home
By Brian D’Ambrosio Keb’ Mo’ has been making music for more than half a century, but he still approaches a song like there is something left to figure out. Born and raised in Compton, California, he came up listening to Nat King Cole, church singers and the blues guitarists who traced the music backward toward Mississippi. At 21, he landed a professional gig with Papa John Creach. Two decades of work as a guitarist, songwriter and arranger followed before his 1994 self-titled album introduced Keb’ Mo’ to a much wider audience. Five Grammys, an Americana Music Association Lifetime Achievement Award and collaborations with artists including Taj Mahal, Bonnie Raitt and Willie Nelson came later.
By Brian D'Ambrosio about a month ago in Beat
The Practice Paradox: What Learning an Instrument Actually Does to a Child's Brain
A seven-year-old sitting at a piano, picking through a page of quarter notes, looks like she's doing one simple thing: pressing keys in order. She is not. In the space of a few seconds, she is reading a symbol and converting it into a motor command, coordinating two hands that are doing different things at different times, holding a steady internal pulse, listening to whether the note she just played matches the one she intended, and — if it doesn't — adjusting the next note without losing her place in the sequence. She is also, in all likelihood, thinking about the next measure while her fingers are still finishing the last one.
By Khali Sollis2 months ago in Beat
1983 ... A Merman I Shall Turn To Be
Introduction I am a member of many Facebook groups and I see many about how did progressive rock start. Very often concept albums are mooted, but one of the first concept albums is Frank Sinatra's "In The Wee Small Hours" but that while it is musical progress it is not what we are talking about.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 months ago in Beat
