Maybe I've been hiding under a rock for too long, or maybe it's because I'm a keyboard player who's never had a strong desire to play Beatles covers. Either way, I had never heard of what I now realise is often described as the most mysterious chord in music - the opening chord in the Beatles' "Hard Days Night". 

The first chord of this song is renowned for its difficulty to be replicated. Earlier this week though it has been claimed that a British mathematician has solved the mystery and figured out the notes actually being played at the start of the track. 

Though a little further digging on YouTube indicates that he may not have been the first... check out the video below. What do you think?

A few years back I read Daniel Levitin's "This Is Your Brain On Music" and have recently turned the last pages of his follow-up "The World In Six Songs". Both are excellent, deep but easily digestible books balancing science and personal experience to provide insight into how humans and music have evolved.

Towards the end of "Six Songs", Levitin mentions several tracks which have had a resounding impact on him. I will not revisit each here, rather encourage anyone interested enough to read the book to absorb his thoughts in context. However, I do need to confess prior to this I had never heard the music of one artist he mentioned - Alex De Grassi.

I'm sure some readers of this post will be amazed by this, as I have since given myself a quick education and learned that De Grassi is a Grammy nominated artist who has been recording since 1978. Crikey, how did I miss that...?

I recently listened to his 1998 album The Water Garden, which fortunately for me was perfectly accompanied by rainy weather as I drove earlier this week. A perfect combination.

If you, like I, had not yet heard Alex De Grassi, I recommend doing so.

Especially if it's raining...

When I was growing up, it would be rare to hear a song on the radio without a guitar solo in the later half somewhere. It was an opportunity to convey emotion, energy, technical proficiency or all three and for me personally it was always welcomed!

In more recent times it seems the guitar solo has been overthrown. By either nothing at all, or even worse, the vocal / rap break. Oh dear. Yes, it may be argued that this is just a sign of the times, a changing of the guard, and that the modern equivalent is the vocal break. But really – while sometimes there is technical proficiency or novelty in the rhythm of the vocal, it seems more often than not this “art” is lacking the energy or emotional element that made guitar solos great.

As I type I’m reminded of the brilliant sax solos of the decade prior, a staple of the 80s pop sound. Give me a burning sax solo or rocking lead break over an autotuned “here today, gone today” vocalist any time.

When I was a teenager I listened to the usual bits and pieces that were on the radio at the time. Before too long it all seemed a bit samey and going in a direction that was no longer interesting.

Around that same time a friend lent me a cassette full of great classic metal, Slayer, Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax – the "big four" – among others. From then on, I was in…

I loved, then and now, the energy of metal music. The pure heaviness of it was energising. A lot of this of course comes from huge distortion, flat out and powerful drumming, break-neck speed and precision. Very little could ever be attributed to the presence of a keyboard player.

Faith No More were an early inspiration for me. Roddy Bottom’s atmospheric synths, strings, and piano added something extra to the sound. But metal? Not really…

Deep Purple had the rock power and energy, and the brilliance of Jon Lord’s overdriven Hammond organ was certainly a defining element of their sound. But metal? Hmmm…

It has only been since the early 90s that I’ve really found the keyboardist’s contribution stepping up to become an irreplaceable element of the metal mix, primarily through “progressive” bands such as Dream Theater, Symphony X, and the many projects of Arjen Lucassen. The tide had turned. Keyboard players could play metal.

Partly through the need to do something different, partly because I thoroughly enjoyed it, and partly tired of the age-old keytar jibes at being a keyboard player interested in the heavier side of music, I recorded an album a short time ago titled "Keyboard Players Can’t Play Metal".

Every note and rhythm on this album was created by myself as a keyboard player, using only a keyboard. Sounds lame, right? Keyboard players can’t play metal. Really….?