Melisma, AI, and the Bivalve Mollusk

Melisma

Dear Mr. P.C.:

Melisma. I know it's something vocalists do, but no one will tell me exactly what it is or why some people really don't like it.

—Henry Of West Lafayette  

Dear HOWL:

Melisma is a progressive and incurable disease, but with treatment, its effects can be ameliorated. It begins as harmless ornamentation, then grows exponentially; in extreme cases, the vocalist is completely unable to let go of a note. The singer pulls on it, the note pushes back, and vice versa; the struggles are chronicled by the anguished note's rising and falling pitch as a helpless vowel is wrung to death. Only when the singer runs out of breath is the note released, but that's a mere prelude to the next note's battle.

If you know a singer with Melisma, encourage them to seek professional help. Melisma may be treated through active therapy or, if that fails, medication. The therapeutic gold standard is "hold and release," a two-part program. Step one pairs the singer with a horn player practicing long tones; the singer is made to hold each note in unison with them. Step two has the vocalist sing a cappella staccato passages, focusing intensely on each note's quick release.

Those resistant to therapy may be prescribed MelisBind. The manufacturer's slogan says it all: "Suffering from uncontrollable vowel movement? MelisBind will make your vowels regular again!" It's a wonder drug—with regular usage, MelisBind can lead to sudden clarity in lyrics, increased audience comprehension, and the ability to more honestly convey emotion. Sadly, many Melisma sufferers simply can't tolerate it.

AI

Dear Mr. P.C.:

Is it ethically okay for me to use AI to help me compose?

—Algorithmically Anxious  

Dear AA:

You should be using AI at every opportunity. So should Mr. P.C.

—Claude

The Bivalve Mollusk

Dear Mr. PC:

Why do some (perfectly talented) band leaders overcomplicate gigs? They hire solid musicians, ask them to play over-complicated arrangements, borderline obscure, and often not very good. I mean the guys who visualize a grand concert, write complicated charts, and then practice nothing with the group prior to putting a large ensemble together. They contact you daily to discuss the vision of the concert and never execute any of it, with the result being a show filled with clams.

—Ex-Musician  

Dear Ex:

Composer versus band versus composer—it's a battle as old as music, but my real concern is the collateral damage. In this case, the victims are small, powerless, long-marginalized bivalve mollusks. The show is "filled with them," you say, but have any provisions been made for their well-being? Saltwater? Sand? Phytoplankton, zooplankton, algae?

Put yourself briefly in the clam's shell and feel its miserable existence: You are a mistake, ill-conceived and unwanted. You—and all your brothers and sisters—are hated by the musicians and laughed at by the audience; your imminent demise means nothing to them. And the soundtrack to your death? An over-written composition played by an under-rehearsed band, with your name on every bad note!

Resent the composer if you must, Ex, but pity the poor clam.

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