Music fans, especially those that listen to electronic music, are probably aware of a technique called sequencing, where the artist arranges notes played by a synthesizer in time. The artist often uses an interface called a “piano roll,” which mimics the traditional musical staff. Most electronic music is sequenced in this way, though some experimental musicians develop their own techniques, while others deviate entirely.

Tracking is a variant of sequencing, though it differs from the original in two principal ways. Unlike sequencers, trackers are only used to arrange and trigger the playback of samples. Secondly, trackers do not attempt to mimic the musical staff. Trackers arrange time along the vertical axis as opposed to the horizontal; they don’t separate sound sources by instrument or have a direct concept of note length. Instead, trackers trigger sample sound files and allow them to play for their lengths, and then another sample is triggered in the same channel. (Channels are represented as columns in the software, analogous to one “instrument” in the piece, though channels can also be samples.)

So why should you care? The tracking paradigm’s advantages are exactly the disadvantages of traditional sequencers — trackers are very quick and easy to use, requiring no knowledge of traditional music theory. Such ease has kept trackers out of most academic settings, but they’ve gained a following in the demoscene — a loose collection of groups making computer-based music videos rendered in real time. When working with tracked music files, it is also (comparatively) easy for musicians to write interpreters — programs that pass audio to be rendered as sound. And, as you don’t need a sequencer, you don’t have to write a synthesizer to use along with it.

But aside from demogroups, trackers are ideal for many college students. Are you a CS student looking to learn more about sequencing and sound processing? Write an interpreter for some well-known tracker format; it’s an excellent project. Are you an aspiring electronic musician? Start learning on a tracker. Lots of musicians who don’t even use trackers for final products first lay out sketches of their ideas with a tracker, because they’re so easy to use and quick to operate.

And it’s not impossible to become a well-known musician via tracking; all Venetian Snares music is tracked, for example, and there are plenty of others. From the old standby ScreamTracker III to the Impulse Tracker and FastTracker 2 (the two most popular trackers when tracking was at its peak in the late ’90s) to new hybrid software like Jeskola Buzz and Renoise, tracking is worth checking out.

In an interview with Playboy in 1980, John Lennon talked about writing the song “Nowhere Man”; “I’d spent five hours that morning trying to write a song that was meaningful and good, and I finally gave up and lay down,” he said. “Then ‘Nowhere Man’ came, words and music, the whole damn thing as I lay down.”

When we talk about John Lennon, we often recognize him as being one of the greatest songwriters in the history of rock music. But for those five hours, even in 1965, at the height of the success of the Beatles — he couldn’t write a good song. For that matter, after Imagine in 1971, Lennon seems to have lost his genius: He spent the last nine years of his life writing mediocre, unimpressive pop. This doesn’t seem to make sense. During those nine years and especially during those five hours, Lennon had everything he needed to write pure pop perfection. He had experience, he had written good songs countless times before, and he knew more about songwriting than anyone. But it wasn’t enough.

Inconsistencies like this abound in pop music. All too often, bands create one immaculate album and then go on to release several sub-par ones. I’ve probably listened to The Strokes album Is This It? over 50 times; yet I’ve only listened to the band’s next two albums once or twice. How did Weezer go from the brilliance of The Blue Album and Pinkerton to the lamentable Green Album? Another issue: In bands with two guitarists — both players then equally suited to songwriting — one guitarist often winds up writing all of the songs. Finally, there’s also the problem of one-hit wonders, where the gift of songwriting enters into a musician for just a few hours or days, leaving him as quickly as it came. The answer to all of these problems lies in one thing: vocal melody.

Melody is quite often the most important element of a pop song. It’s what you sing along to; it’s what attracts you and makes you come back for more. Without well-crafted melodies, pop songs tend to fall apart. Unfortunately for songwriters, this most important element is also the most elusive. Writing melodies cannot be taught; melodies must be summoned, and quite often they just don’t come. The best songwriters know what things lead to a good melody: certain chord changes (although too much theory can be detrimental), experimentation, and practice in general; but none of these strategies will ever guarantee that one will come.

To be sure, all art involves this inconsistency. There is no “formula” for great literature, painting, poetry, or film, yet melody is somehow different. Your brain undergoes an instinctual “yes/no” reaction when it hears a melody, while these other art forms usually leave room for a “maybe.” Melodies can neither hide nor argue.

Give some credit then to those few bands that are capable of putting out one solid album after the next. Still, don’t be surprised if their next record bombs; even John Lennon couldn’t keep it going forever.

London is electronic music. Jungle, dubstep, IDM, electronica, glitch, ambient, and (sadly) trance all had roots in the United Kingdom’s capital city. While these genres may catalyze a spectrum of thoughts (between falling asleep and dancing for 15 solid hours, then waking up in a hospital bed wondering what happened to your missing wallet), they all have one thing in common: The music is created by nerds.

Mentally place yourself in Brooklyn, New York — quite possibly the epicenter of the scenester universe. Everyone in your cone of vision is wearing jeans that grab so much crotch, there is literally no chance of future procreation. Odds are you will bump into a self-proclaimed visionary artist or poet, whose work is more amateurish than the garbage you turned out during an unnecessarily emotional high school breakup. (As a side-note, they’re probably drinking Red Stripe.) You’re standing in line at Studio B — one of the newer clubs set in the middle of a warehouse district. While a little shaky about the prospect of getting mugged, the shocking plethora of free parking manages to overshadow your nervousness. You’re there to see Simian Mobile Disco: a British electro-dance production duo from the coastal town of Bristol. From what you’ve heard, you’ve painted a picture in your head of a pair of waifs, dressed in a “Frankie Says Relax” T-shirt paired with the aforementioned size-zero women’s jeans.

But when the band hits the stage, you find you were completely wrong. These two gentlemen are no trendier than your run-of-the-mill Linux-running, occasionally showering, Carnegie Mellon computer science major. Huge white-guy afro, Nirvana-era ripped jeans, and middle-aged physique. They don’t mix with turntables and they have presumably never touched a traditional instrument. They use laptops, beat samplers, and patch bays (basically, panels full of circuits).

Somehow, unbeknown to me, such equipment combined with the direction of two nerdy dudes produced some of the most dance-able music I’ve heard to date — ironic, considering neither member of the duo could dance to save their lives. The show is mesmerizing — a veritable mindfuck of light and sound.

The topical music genre, which I colloquially address as “Nerd Dance,” has been on the rise over the past few years. Rewind to Pittsburgh last summer: Girl Talk, a 26-year-old biomedical engineering graduate from Case Western Reserve, was published in the College Music Journal and Rolling Stone, both of which had a musically induced orgasm over his first major release Night Ripper. Gregg Gillis (Girl Talk’s human name) mastered the art of mash-up dance, somehow successfully mixing Ying Yang Twins with Elton John. That being said, Gillis is just shy of 6’3”, has an extremely pronounced Adam’s apple, and sports a dance routine which ultimately resembles an epileptic giraffe. A nerd.

Consider this a call to arms for music-loving dorks everywhere — your era is now. Groups like Daft Punk, Alan Braxe and Friends, Justice, and Digitalism are all rocking sold-out shows and packed nightclubs. Grab your computers, circuitry toolkits, and an 808 and perhaps someday, you could be the next Simian Mobile Disco or Girl Talk.