Colorblind (1979)

Genre: Barbershop, A cappella (AI Collaboration)

Shortly after my move out West in 1978, I wrote two songs that described my impressions of the “state” of Colorado. The local radio station, KBCO, held an annual Boulder Music Weekend, where local songwriters/bands could submit cassette tapes of their songs for radio play. I contributed “Ports of Boulder” that first year, which received enough positive response to encourage me to come up with “Colorblind” the following year.

My first recordings were primitive affairs: one cheap plastic microphone from K-Mart at the end of a gooseneck arm in the middle of my living room with my friend Chuck acting as “recording engineer.” (He maneuvered the mic and turned the machine off and on). “Ports” was a simple boom-chick affair on acoustic guitar. For “Colorblind,” I was determined to do something more elaborate.

I envisioned it as a hymn-like, anti-anthem sung by a barbershop quartet. Years before the a cappella groups (The Persuasions, The Nylons, Take 6, Pentatonix and my favorite, The Bobs) came into vogue, barbershop was around, a little old-fashioned, but still a crowd-pleaser.

I saw a local Boulder group perform at Chautauqua auditorium that reminded me how much I loved the genre. I considered approaching them to sing my song, but I was an unknown songwriter, who didn’t really understand the complexities of barbershop harmony. [Barbershop involves a singing style that emphasizes harmonic overtones, more akin to Tuvan throat singing than to the tempered scales of tradition SATB choirs]. Without local professionals to try out my work, I resorted to my usual workaround: I sang all the parts myself and overdubbed them with some fancy new equipment.
The technology to record dual tracks was just coming into existence for home use, so I purchased a TEAC cassette deck that enabled two simultaneous tracks. By doubling each of those two tracks, it was possible to overdub a four-part harmony. I bought a reel-to-reel tape recorder to make the task easier. It was a laborious process and each duplication degraded the sound quality enough that additional tracks were impractical. [Compare that to today’s digital format, where you can record up to 1,000 tracks, a number limited only by your computer’s processing power!]
The resulting recording was embarrassing in retrospect, but it nevertheless received airplay on KBCO that year.

You may still wonder how I ended up attracted to barbershop quartet…

I thank my parents, who, among other wonderful gifts, wowed me with musical theater at a young age. When I was still in elementary school, they took me to a local stage production of “Peter Pan” at Western Michigan University. (It was a traveling version of the one made popular in 1954 by the androgynously-dressed Mary Martin flying around the stage). I was immediately smitten with the combination of dramatic story and song. I saw the original production on TV (in black and white), but the local live performance left a lasting impression. Even though you could see the wires, a seven-year old like me could cheerfully suspend disbelief. The Jule Styne song “Never, Never Land” is still one of my favorites of all time.

I was also a child of Disney, so “Bella Notte” (Lady and the Tramp), “Cruella De Vil” (101 Dalmatians), “I Love to Laugh” (Ed Wynn in Mary Poppins) and others were on a constant loop in my head.

My parents both sang in the choir at our church and participated in the local Bach Festival held at Kalamazoo College, so I had early exposure to sacred choral music. We had Bach cantatas on LP records in the house as well as Kurt Weil’s Three Penny Opera.

Periodically, my father had microbiology conferences on the East Coast. Sometimes he was able to take my mom, and they always made it a point to see some current musical whenever they were anywhere near Broadway. I became familiar with the music of The Fantastiks that way and later, through my parents’ obsession, the Man of La Mancha. Don Quixote was always, in some way or other, a fixture in our home.

Later I would return the favor by introducing my parents to the musicals of the day: Hair and Jesus Christ Superstar. Later still, as a social studies educator, I was in love with 1776. Naturally, I was gob-smacked by Hamilton (especially since I’m one of the few people who actually read Ron Chernow’s biography).

But I’m sure you’re still wondering about barbershop quartet…

The most enduring musical impression I had was when my folks took me to see a local production of The Music Man. It starts with a scene of traveling salesmen aboard a train, singing “Rock Island,” the lyrics uniquely synchronized to the rocking of the rails. The premise, the location, the plot, and the clever lyrics all seemed like magic to me. And the music: pure fun. (Apparently the Beatles thought so too, since their Bossa Nova-like cover of  “Till There Was You” was an appreciative nod to Meredith Willson’s talents as a composer.)

Anyone who is familiar with this musical also remembers the periodic entrance of the barbershop quartet, the Buffalo Bills, who sang the iconic “Lida Rose” and “It’s You.”

Of course, the genre has now fallen into quaint disregard, supplanted by modern a cappella groups that have seemed to proliferate everywhere. Locally we have a outstanding ensemble called FACE, several men’s university groups like the Buffoons (from the Colorado Buffaloes), and their female counterpoints, CU on the Rocks, with whom my daughter sang during her tenure at the University of Colorado.

One of most interesting things to use artificial intelligence for is not to have it write your lyrics or your music for you, but to see how it interprets your own recordings. That’s how this 2025 version of “Colorblind” came to be. I took that old cringy, four-track recording of me singing my own song in 1979, uploaded it to Suno.com and asked the AI to render it (finally!) in the style of barbershop harmonies. It generated versions that seem more like modern a cappella than barbershop, but I took the results, split up the “stems” (the separate vocal parts), cannibalized them, and wove them together for the version you now hear.

The lyrics are dated, but I’ve left them as is, reflective of a moment in time. I’ll let you judge whether the title and theme still resonate 45+ years later.