Wednesday, September 29, 2004
The Birthday Boy.
Shown below with his first guitar.
Yes, it was a plastic tenor (strictly acoustic it was, too), and probably had a picture of Roy Rogers on it. I was a bit of a punk cowboy in those days (you'll note the hat, but also notice the black hightops and Clash-approved camp shirt). I was pretty pint-sized though, and hadn't yet progressed to full-sized axes. And what a telling pose. I've rarely been satisfied with off-the-rack instruments, and it looks like I'm thinking about getting rid of those crummy stock banjo-style tuners; maybe swap them out for some Grovers. Yeah.
Anyway, it's my birthday on October 2nd, and I will be playing at least two full-sized hot-rodded electric instruments Saturday night at the Brass Cat. Sue Burkhart will open the festivities, which are slated to begin around 9:30pm. She also plays full sized instruments now. Extremely well, too.
So, come on out to this kid's party. It'll be fun.
Yes, it was a plastic tenor (strictly acoustic it was, too), and probably had a picture of Roy Rogers on it. I was a bit of a punk cowboy in those days (you'll note the hat, but also notice the black hightops and Clash-approved camp shirt). I was pretty pint-sized though, and hadn't yet progressed to full-sized axes. And what a telling pose. I've rarely been satisfied with off-the-rack instruments, and it looks like I'm thinking about getting rid of those crummy stock banjo-style tuners; maybe swap them out for some Grovers. Yeah.
Anyway, it's my birthday on October 2nd, and I will be playing at least two full-sized hot-rodded electric instruments Saturday night at the Brass Cat. Sue Burkhart will open the festivities, which are slated to begin around 9:30pm. She also plays full sized instruments now. Extremely well, too.
So, come on out to this kid's party. It'll be fun.
Monday, September 27, 2004
The Magical Mystery Tour.
Roll up! Roll up!
This past Saturday I doubled my pleasure and didn't even chew any gum. It was a two-gig tour of Easthampton in the same day. In the morning, GDV played an unusually long set (two hours, no break) at Easthampton's Fall Festival, and the mystery lies in asking why it is that it feels wholly unnatural for a rock band to play in the morning. But then they handed us the check, and a few CDs got sold, and people said we "sounded good out there," and suddenly it was worth having stumbled along with scratchy morning voices and what felt like a pretty wobbly stage presence.
The magic came later that evening. I was back in Easthampton, participating in the CD Release Party for our friends, School for the Dead (you can click on the link over to the left, see?). There was a remarkable bunch of musicians who were picked to get up onstage and perform one song each by way of opening the show. It wasn't the average gig. This was a Happening. The performers were Mark Mulcahy, Matt Hebert of Ware River Club, Jose Ayerve of Spouse, Lesa Bezo of The Fawns, Zeke Fiddler, Philip Price of Winterpills, George Lenker, Thane Thomsen and Kevin O'Rourke, both of Lo Fine, Dennis Crommett of Spanish for Hitchhiking, Chris Collingwood of Fountains of Wayne, and yours truly.
One of the delightful things about the evening was getting to hear this very talented group of people perform simply and alone, when normally these artists would be performing with a band wrapped around them. The mystery this time was finding out who would play, and in what order: names were picked in random order by audience members, who were asked to pull rolled-up pieces of paper out of a big metal tub. My turn came sometime in the last third of the list. I sang "You Don't Need Him Anymore" (from the GDV album Hold No Illusions), and it was the first time I had ever performed the song acoustically in public. I left the stage feeling like I had played well, and got several very nice things said to me afterwards. It's always nice to hear appreciative remarks from my friends, but another nice thing was making new friends, as many folks came up to me to extend a handshake and a complimentary remark. It was a splendid atmosphere. The people around here are a pleasantly supportive and approachable lot.
Chris Collingwood performed "Frank Mills" from the musical HAIR. It was a whimsical choice, and I commented to him afterwards that it was a great pick for that evening. I had spoken very briefly with Chris once before at another show, but didn't expect him to remember me. He's a pretty famous guy these days, considering the success of Fountains of Wayne, and probably has strangers approaching him all the time. But instead, he said "Thanks, Rick. And your song was brilliant, too, by the way. My wife's a huge fan now." It was a very nice thing to say. And you know, it felt like being home hanging with these folks; it was good to be there with performers and friends alike, with an audience that was peppered with familiar faces as well as new ones, and with Sonia & David, who run PACE. The night was simply magical.
And then School for the Dead came on and played. And they were really magical. And so is their new album, The New You. Go buy it. In fact, go buy it at Night Owl Records in Easthampton this coming Saturday night, before you cross Cottage Street to see GDV play the Brass Cat.
Here's to more magic, and maybe a little mystery too.
This past Saturday I doubled my pleasure and didn't even chew any gum. It was a two-gig tour of Easthampton in the same day. In the morning, GDV played an unusually long set (two hours, no break) at Easthampton's Fall Festival, and the mystery lies in asking why it is that it feels wholly unnatural for a rock band to play in the morning. But then they handed us the check, and a few CDs got sold, and people said we "sounded good out there," and suddenly it was worth having stumbled along with scratchy morning voices and what felt like a pretty wobbly stage presence.
The magic came later that evening. I was back in Easthampton, participating in the CD Release Party for our friends, School for the Dead (you can click on the link over to the left, see?). There was a remarkable bunch of musicians who were picked to get up onstage and perform one song each by way of opening the show. It wasn't the average gig. This was a Happening. The performers were Mark Mulcahy, Matt Hebert of Ware River Club, Jose Ayerve of Spouse, Lesa Bezo of The Fawns, Zeke Fiddler, Philip Price of Winterpills, George Lenker, Thane Thomsen and Kevin O'Rourke, both of Lo Fine, Dennis Crommett of Spanish for Hitchhiking, Chris Collingwood of Fountains of Wayne, and yours truly.
One of the delightful things about the evening was getting to hear this very talented group of people perform simply and alone, when normally these artists would be performing with a band wrapped around them. The mystery this time was finding out who would play, and in what order: names were picked in random order by audience members, who were asked to pull rolled-up pieces of paper out of a big metal tub. My turn came sometime in the last third of the list. I sang "You Don't Need Him Anymore" (from the GDV album Hold No Illusions), and it was the first time I had ever performed the song acoustically in public. I left the stage feeling like I had played well, and got several very nice things said to me afterwards. It's always nice to hear appreciative remarks from my friends, but another nice thing was making new friends, as many folks came up to me to extend a handshake and a complimentary remark. It was a splendid atmosphere. The people around here are a pleasantly supportive and approachable lot.
Chris Collingwood performed "Frank Mills" from the musical HAIR. It was a whimsical choice, and I commented to him afterwards that it was a great pick for that evening. I had spoken very briefly with Chris once before at another show, but didn't expect him to remember me. He's a pretty famous guy these days, considering the success of Fountains of Wayne, and probably has strangers approaching him all the time. But instead, he said "Thanks, Rick. And your song was brilliant, too, by the way. My wife's a huge fan now." It was a very nice thing to say. And you know, it felt like being home hanging with these folks; it was good to be there with performers and friends alike, with an audience that was peppered with familiar faces as well as new ones, and with Sonia & David, who run PACE. The night was simply magical.
And then School for the Dead came on and played. And they were really magical. And so is their new album, The New You. Go buy it. In fact, go buy it at Night Owl Records in Easthampton this coming Saturday night, before you cross Cottage Street to see GDV play the Brass Cat.
Here's to more magic, and maybe a little mystery too.
Friday, September 17, 2004
The Easthampton Invasion.
It's showtime, folks.
Saturday, September 25th:
GDV will be appearing at the Easthampton Fall Festival, an event run each year by the city's Chamber of Commerce, The Festival is over at the Easthampton High School (it's on Williston Avenue), and GDV plays from 10:30 that morning until 12:30, stopping just in time for lunch.
Later that same night, our friends in School for the Dead are having a CD release party over at the Pioneer Arts Center of Easthampton (aka PACE, the wonderful venue over on Union Street we played back in August). Rick from GDV is part of an opening lineup of local musicians who will be playing one song each, leading up to the full headline showcase set by SFTD. This show starts promptly at 8pm, and promises to be a fantastic evening.
Saturday, October 2nd:
GDV plays The Brass Cat (the Cottage Street landmark) tonight, with our friend Sue Burkhart sharing the bill and kicking the whole thing off around 9:30pm. October 2nd is Rick's birthday, so this show is going to be a party of epic proportions. If you are only able to attend one GDV show this Fall, make it this one. There will be a few new songs we'll be playing in public for the first time ever, plus some old seldom-attempted favorites trotted out for an airing. Let the wild rumpus start!
Earlier that night, PACE is also throwing themselves a party, a benefit celebration in honor of their second anniversary. That event begins at 6pm, and there is a rumor afoot that GDV may also make an appearance there before playing their show at the 'Cat. Whatever the case, it would be a fun thing to get to Easthampton really early and attend both events.
See? A couple of posts ago, Crispin said that Easthampton was in our future. It should be in your future too, because we'd sure love to see you there.
Saturday, September 25th:
GDV will be appearing at the Easthampton Fall Festival, an event run each year by the city's Chamber of Commerce, The Festival is over at the Easthampton High School (it's on Williston Avenue), and GDV plays from 10:30 that morning until 12:30, stopping just in time for lunch.
Later that same night, our friends in School for the Dead are having a CD release party over at the Pioneer Arts Center of Easthampton (aka PACE, the wonderful venue over on Union Street we played back in August). Rick from GDV is part of an opening lineup of local musicians who will be playing one song each, leading up to the full headline showcase set by SFTD. This show starts promptly at 8pm, and promises to be a fantastic evening.
Saturday, October 2nd:
GDV plays The Brass Cat (the Cottage Street landmark) tonight, with our friend Sue Burkhart sharing the bill and kicking the whole thing off around 9:30pm. October 2nd is Rick's birthday, so this show is going to be a party of epic proportions. If you are only able to attend one GDV show this Fall, make it this one. There will be a few new songs we'll be playing in public for the first time ever, plus some old seldom-attempted favorites trotted out for an airing. Let the wild rumpus start!
Earlier that night, PACE is also throwing themselves a party, a benefit celebration in honor of their second anniversary. That event begins at 6pm, and there is a rumor afoot that GDV may also make an appearance there before playing their show at the 'Cat. Whatever the case, it would be a fun thing to get to Easthampton really early and attend both events.
See? A couple of posts ago, Crispin said that Easthampton was in our future. It should be in your future too, because we'd sure love to see you there.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Snakes: Armed to the Teeth.
Don't say we didn't warn you.
Some time ago, Nick and Fred came up with the phrase "Guns don't kill people; rattlesnakes kill people." Shortly thereafter, they launched the National Rattlesnake Association (a wholly separate entity from the GDV Corporation, under whose umbrella we find Crispin Tight Productions, Group DeVille's record company, and The Mill River Institute, proud developers of tasty and refreshing Mill Dew®, as well as our newest endeavor, Poop DeVille®, which we believe is the very finest garden fertilizer America has to offer). Well, this week the national ban on assault weapons expired, and within several hours, a man in Westfield, Massachusetts was bitten by a rattlesnake.
Coincidence? We think not.
Some time ago, Nick and Fred came up with the phrase "Guns don't kill people; rattlesnakes kill people." Shortly thereafter, they launched the National Rattlesnake Association (a wholly separate entity from the GDV Corporation, under whose umbrella we find Crispin Tight Productions, Group DeVille's record company, and The Mill River Institute, proud developers of tasty and refreshing Mill Dew®, as well as our newest endeavor, Poop DeVille®, which we believe is the very finest garden fertilizer America has to offer). Well, this week the national ban on assault weapons expired, and within several hours, a man in Westfield, Massachusetts was bitten by a rattlesnake.
Coincidence? We think not.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Heavens Above.
GDV listens in.
Gabriel was walking past God's office yesterday, and was just in time to hear Him exclaim, "Gotcha! Look at the little beggar tumble!"
The Archangel stopped in his tracks, and rapped on the doorjamb. God poked His head up over the top of His monitor. He gave Gabriel a grin, and beckoned him in. He pointed at the screen. "Observe," said God. Gabriel observed. On the screen there was what appeared to be a small metallic disc-shaped object, apparently hurtling downward through Earth's atmosphere. Gabriel gave his boss a blank stare. The disc continued to plummet end over end. A few confused looking helicopters whirled in circles nearby. Moments later, there was a muffled thud, followed by a small brown cloud rising from the desert floor. And then all was quiet. Except for the helicopters.
God switched the monitor off. "That'll teach 'em to use biblical names."
Gabriel blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"Those too-clever-by-half scientists named their probe Genesis," said God. "I won't have it. The Mars Program people named their two little go-carts Spirit and Opportunity, good humankind-related names. And you'll notice I've let them operate well past the machines' sell-by date."
"That's right," said Gabriel, "the batteries or whatever were supposed to run out on both those gizmos months ago, and they're still running around like new and sending info back."
"Divine intervention, they call that," God added, "but do you think I'll get any credit?" Scowling, He shuffled some papers on His desktop.
"So you're against them naming stuff after anything biblical?" asked the Archangel. "How come you didn't have any problem with that band called Genesis?"
"Machines, mostly. But also because the band's original lead vocalist was named Peter Gabriel, remember? I'd have had both you and the doorman down on me for eons if I intervened. And I'm talking real eons."
"Ah, yes. Hmmm...I'll just go practice my trumpet now, shall I?" asked Gabriel.
"Good idea." said God.
Gabriel was walking past God's office yesterday, and was just in time to hear Him exclaim, "Gotcha! Look at the little beggar tumble!"
The Archangel stopped in his tracks, and rapped on the doorjamb. God poked His head up over the top of His monitor. He gave Gabriel a grin, and beckoned him in. He pointed at the screen. "Observe," said God. Gabriel observed. On the screen there was what appeared to be a small metallic disc-shaped object, apparently hurtling downward through Earth's atmosphere. Gabriel gave his boss a blank stare. The disc continued to plummet end over end. A few confused looking helicopters whirled in circles nearby. Moments later, there was a muffled thud, followed by a small brown cloud rising from the desert floor. And then all was quiet. Except for the helicopters.
God switched the monitor off. "That'll teach 'em to use biblical names."
Gabriel blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"Those too-clever-by-half scientists named their probe Genesis," said God. "I won't have it. The Mars Program people named their two little go-carts Spirit and Opportunity, good humankind-related names. And you'll notice I've let them operate well past the machines' sell-by date."
"That's right," said Gabriel, "the batteries or whatever were supposed to run out on both those gizmos months ago, and they're still running around like new and sending info back."
"Divine intervention, they call that," God added, "but do you think I'll get any credit?" Scowling, He shuffled some papers on His desktop.
"So you're against them naming stuff after anything biblical?" asked the Archangel. "How come you didn't have any problem with that band called Genesis?"
"Machines, mostly. But also because the band's original lead vocalist was named Peter Gabriel, remember? I'd have had both you and the doorman down on me for eons if I intervened. And I'm talking real eons."
"Ah, yes. Hmmm...I'll just go practice my trumpet now, shall I?" asked Gabriel.
"Good idea." said God.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
Wet Paint.
Adventures in home improvement.
Sarah and I just spent Labor Day Weekend painting our stairs. If any of you out there are contemplating the painting of your stairs, let me tell you what you can expect to happen during the process if you live in a household like ours.
First, if you sleep on the second floor of your abode, plan on camping out on the first floor instead. This is a strategic move based on the fact that your only bathroom is on the first floor, and if the paint on the stairs is wet when you retire, a sudden prompting from your bladder will mean you'll have to go out the window. Which can be tricky. And you know how the neighborhood tongues will wag if anyone sees you.
Second, if you have four cats like we do, let's hope they all get along. Two of ours do not get along with the other two, so one pair (the fluffy, solid-colored, rescued feral ones) lives upstairs, and the other pair (the friendly, adopted, shorthaired tabbies) lives downstairs, and they are separated by a wood and steel mesh door I built that divides the computer room (where the staircase leads up to the second floor) from the main part of the downstairs living area. At the top of the stairs (which is really an open "ship's ladder"), there is a landing (which doubles as a sort of storage/wardrobe/dressing area), and to the left is the bedroom.
The upstairs cats have been locked in the bedroom for three days and four nights now. This means they do not have access to the other spaces they ordinarily occupy (the landing, the stairs, and the computer room). We've had to bring their litterbox in for them, as well as enough food and water to tide them over while each coat of paint dries. Thank goodness we have those nice modern electric litterboxes as opposed to the old stinky acoustic ones. The downstairs cats, on the other hand, have not only had free run of their usual space, but the added treat of Sarah and me sleeping on the futon couch. Which means they have been able to sleep with us. It's actually a treat for us, too, but they take up a lot of room and they are very sound sleepers. They don't just lie there either; they lean into us as they sleep. Very restful. You can just imagine.
Another thing to remember is that if you expect you'll need something that you usually keep upstairs, you'll have to bring it downstairs before you paint. In Sarah's case, this involved a few changes of clothing, an armload of reading material, and a fistful of cosmetic items in case she felt like getting presentable (like if we went out anywhere or the Queen stopped by). In my case, it involved a few changes of clothing, one of the guitars, my briefcase full of guitar cables and accessories, a backpack full of rock climbing gear (got out for a couple of hours yesterday; it was a fantastic day and a great time on the rocks), and a set of nicer clothes for work today.
Granted, if you find there's something else you need from upstairs, you can (in theory) get it once the paint dries and it's time to go up and start applying the next coat. But you will forget to do this. Over and over again. In at least one instance, this will involve underwear.
We're nearly finished now (Sarah, bless her, has done the lion's share of the work, as she did all the patching/sanding while I was at work last week, and it will be her lot to put the last two layers of clear coat on the treads today), and then we will allow the stairs to cure for another night and day before taking off all the blue tape and letting the upstairs cats out of the bedroom tomorrow evening. Which means we'll be spending another night in the living room after I get home from band practice late tonight.
So that's been our last few days in a nutshell. Good luck with your next stairs-painting project. I hope I've sufficiently explained what you have to look forward to, if you live in a household like ours.
Wait a sec; I've just re-read this thing, and who do I think I'm kidding? Nobody lives in a household like ours.
Sarah and I just spent Labor Day Weekend painting our stairs. If any of you out there are contemplating the painting of your stairs, let me tell you what you can expect to happen during the process if you live in a household like ours.
First, if you sleep on the second floor of your abode, plan on camping out on the first floor instead. This is a strategic move based on the fact that your only bathroom is on the first floor, and if the paint on the stairs is wet when you retire, a sudden prompting from your bladder will mean you'll have to go out the window. Which can be tricky. And you know how the neighborhood tongues will wag if anyone sees you.
Second, if you have four cats like we do, let's hope they all get along. Two of ours do not get along with the other two, so one pair (the fluffy, solid-colored, rescued feral ones) lives upstairs, and the other pair (the friendly, adopted, shorthaired tabbies) lives downstairs, and they are separated by a wood and steel mesh door I built that divides the computer room (where the staircase leads up to the second floor) from the main part of the downstairs living area. At the top of the stairs (which is really an open "ship's ladder"), there is a landing (which doubles as a sort of storage/wardrobe/dressing area), and to the left is the bedroom.
The upstairs cats have been locked in the bedroom for three days and four nights now. This means they do not have access to the other spaces they ordinarily occupy (the landing, the stairs, and the computer room). We've had to bring their litterbox in for them, as well as enough food and water to tide them over while each coat of paint dries. Thank goodness we have those nice modern electric litterboxes as opposed to the old stinky acoustic ones. The downstairs cats, on the other hand, have not only had free run of their usual space, but the added treat of Sarah and me sleeping on the futon couch. Which means they have been able to sleep with us. It's actually a treat for us, too, but they take up a lot of room and they are very sound sleepers. They don't just lie there either; they lean into us as they sleep. Very restful. You can just imagine.
Another thing to remember is that if you expect you'll need something that you usually keep upstairs, you'll have to bring it downstairs before you paint. In Sarah's case, this involved a few changes of clothing, an armload of reading material, and a fistful of cosmetic items in case she felt like getting presentable (like if we went out anywhere or the Queen stopped by). In my case, it involved a few changes of clothing, one of the guitars, my briefcase full of guitar cables and accessories, a backpack full of rock climbing gear (got out for a couple of hours yesterday; it was a fantastic day and a great time on the rocks), and a set of nicer clothes for work today.
Granted, if you find there's something else you need from upstairs, you can (in theory) get it once the paint dries and it's time to go up and start applying the next coat. But you will forget to do this. Over and over again. In at least one instance, this will involve underwear.
We're nearly finished now (Sarah, bless her, has done the lion's share of the work, as she did all the patching/sanding while I was at work last week, and it will be her lot to put the last two layers of clear coat on the treads today), and then we will allow the stairs to cure for another night and day before taking off all the blue tape and letting the upstairs cats out of the bedroom tomorrow evening. Which means we'll be spending another night in the living room after I get home from band practice late tonight.
So that's been our last few days in a nutshell. Good luck with your next stairs-painting project. I hope I've sufficiently explained what you have to look forward to, if you live in a household like ours.
Wait a sec; I've just re-read this thing, and who do I think I'm kidding? Nobody lives in a household like ours.
Friday, September 03, 2004
Calling Crispin's Bluff.
Nice try, old boy.
Although, if you look closely, the image in the crystal ball does look suspiciously like the four of us standing in front of Nashawannuck Pond over in Easthampton. See? That would be the profile of Mount Tom back there in the distance. Maybe Crispin's got a gift after all.
Nah. He knows darn well we're playing over there a couple of times in the near future.
Although, if you look closely, the image in the crystal ball does look suspiciously like the four of us standing in front of Nashawannuck Pond over in Easthampton. See? That would be the profile of Mount Tom back there in the distance. Maybe Crispin's got a gift after all.
Nah. He knows darn well we're playing over there a couple of times in the near future.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Psychic Breakthrough.
CRISPIN SEES THE FUTURE:
Wait! Before you click over to a more sensible blog (and I defy you to find one), I want you to consider that I have never come in here to preach untruths or false claims. Colourful perhaps, outlandish certainly. Deceptive? Nay, dear readers. I am the very picture of honesty, and I therefore humbly beg your forebearance while I reveal the details of my recent psychic awakening. Yes. I am no less surprised than you.
The fact of the matter is, I was being my usual distracted self while motoring outbound from London two mornings ago, and suddenly the truth dawned. Right there on the dual carriageway, I had an epiphany. My mind, which is admittedly somewhat cloudy at times, burst forth in a seemingly endless moment of glorious clarity. Time stood still.
My vehicle, meanwhile, purred along as ever. I'm driving a vintage Aston Martin DB-5 these days, by the by (on loan from my chum Eric Halfbee, who has more motors in his garage than I have ties in my wardrobe), and it is a silver-grey beauty.
But I digress. Let us return to the psychic bit, shall we? So there I was, driving sedately toward Leicester, when all of a sudden I realized I was capable of predicting the future with startling accuracy. I glanced ahead, and said to myself. "In a few moments, I will be even with that church." And it was so. A mile or so further on, I announced, "The car will be passing that railway station in less than fifteen seconds." Right again! Do you begin to see? I then branched out into longer measures of time, and predicted (with unerring skill) that I would be entering the town of Leicester in twenty minutes, parking in front of the greengrocer's in ten additional, and examining the radishes therein, given just three minute's more time. All of this proved to be so. It appears I am a gifted psychic.
Imagine my excitement. Upon my return home the next day (another span of hours predicted with uncanny precision), I hunted about in my attic for the trunk containing the occupational effects left to me by my great uncle Clarence, who was a magician. Please. Do not belittle his memory by conjuring up the mental image of some carnival charlatan; Clarence was the real thing, and I have the crystal ball to prove it.
I must dash, as I'm due at my club for lunch (I predict I will be on the outside of a delicious pork chop in no more than three-quarters of an hour), and it's best to arrive early. Farewell for now. I expect I'll be very busy polishing the orb and exercising this gift of mine, but fear not. I shall post again, probably with predictions concerning Group DeVille shows.
I have no idea when, however. The glass is cloudy.
Wait! Before you click over to a more sensible blog (and I defy you to find one), I want you to consider that I have never come in here to preach untruths or false claims. Colourful perhaps, outlandish certainly. Deceptive? Nay, dear readers. I am the very picture of honesty, and I therefore humbly beg your forebearance while I reveal the details of my recent psychic awakening. Yes. I am no less surprised than you.
The fact of the matter is, I was being my usual distracted self while motoring outbound from London two mornings ago, and suddenly the truth dawned. Right there on the dual carriageway, I had an epiphany. My mind, which is admittedly somewhat cloudy at times, burst forth in a seemingly endless moment of glorious clarity. Time stood still.
My vehicle, meanwhile, purred along as ever. I'm driving a vintage Aston Martin DB-5 these days, by the by (on loan from my chum Eric Halfbee, who has more motors in his garage than I have ties in my wardrobe), and it is a silver-grey beauty.
But I digress. Let us return to the psychic bit, shall we? So there I was, driving sedately toward Leicester, when all of a sudden I realized I was capable of predicting the future with startling accuracy. I glanced ahead, and said to myself. "In a few moments, I will be even with that church." And it was so. A mile or so further on, I announced, "The car will be passing that railway station in less than fifteen seconds." Right again! Do you begin to see? I then branched out into longer measures of time, and predicted (with unerring skill) that I would be entering the town of Leicester in twenty minutes, parking in front of the greengrocer's in ten additional, and examining the radishes therein, given just three minute's more time. All of this proved to be so. It appears I am a gifted psychic.
Imagine my excitement. Upon my return home the next day (another span of hours predicted with uncanny precision), I hunted about in my attic for the trunk containing the occupational effects left to me by my great uncle Clarence, who was a magician. Please. Do not belittle his memory by conjuring up the mental image of some carnival charlatan; Clarence was the real thing, and I have the crystal ball to prove it.
I must dash, as I'm due at my club for lunch (I predict I will be on the outside of a delicious pork chop in no more than three-quarters of an hour), and it's best to arrive early. Farewell for now. I expect I'll be very busy polishing the orb and exercising this gift of mine, but fear not. I shall post again, probably with predictions concerning Group DeVille shows.
I have no idea when, however. The glass is cloudy.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
So Much for Summer Vacation.
Here comes the Fall Semester, kids.
Last night the band started up our weekly sessions at the Conway Roadhouse again. The last two shows we played were ones for which we had limited rehearsal time, and the set lists for each relied heavily on tunes we knew we could pull off well without thinking too hard about them. So last night, in preparation for what promises to be a rather busy Autumn, we not only began working on some brand new material, but also began sifting through the archives for old favorites that have been neglected during the past several months. It seems like a good time to drag them kicking and screaming back into the limelight, especially now that we have the luxury of four whole weeks of rehearsal time between us and the next gig.
A few of the songs that we've written (particularly some on the Hold No Illusions album) have been ignored when choosing set lists, largely because their arrangements are somewhat busy, and difficult to pull off well in a live performance. There's a lot going on in the instrumentation, and the ears get confused over what they should be listening to at any given moment. This is something we have been trying to fix, concentrating on one song at a time. Last night we had a breakthrough with one of Steve's songs, "Dream World." It sounds fine on the album, but whenever we attempted the arrangement live, it sounded like several short song ideas nailed together in a haphazard row. Last night we examined all the parts: keyboard, guitar, bass, and drums, and simplified them to the point where each one stands out better now, and the overall mix is stronger because there is enough space in the individual parts to let the other instruments shine through when and where they should.
It can be a difficult thing to simplify parts, because if you go too far, you run the risk of getting to the point where someone's segment of the piece actually becomes dull and repetitive; you never want to have anyone's part in the song get downright boring to play. I've heard plenty of recordings where I've said to myself, "I don't know how the bassist/sax player/drummer/rhythm guitarist/etc. can stand playing this one stupid line over and over!" Then again, during a long set, it's nice to have the occasional song where you don't have to be on guard all the time with an intricate bit to play throughout it. It's nice to relax and just play it easy now and then.
The trick is to think of each part as just that: a part of a collective whole (the song itself). By playing one's part well, the song will sound that much better. If one makes the part too busy, it will not sit well with the other instruments (it will also be clumsier to play than it has to be, and that's a waste of effort). If the part is too busy it will sound as though the instrument is fighting the others, rather than working with them, as if the player is trying to get flashy rather than simply play a part well. If all the instruments are doing this, the song will sound...well, bad. The overall mix will muddy up to the point where one has a disorganized cacaphony that will be next to impossible to sing over and have one's vocals heard, one's lyrics understood. Not to mention having any solo or melody instrument that ought to be front and center stand out properly. Working at cross purposes is not the object, but learning to work together as a collective organism isn't always easy.
This Fall will mark the fifth anniversary of our beginnings as a band. One would hope that during all that time, we might have learned something about how to work with our individual strengths and limitations in order to craft an overall sound that has a cohesive soul to it. A sonic identity, if you will, that suits the band as well as each individual in it.
There are nights such as last night when I feel like we're there. Nice job, guys.
Last night the band started up our weekly sessions at the Conway Roadhouse again. The last two shows we played were ones for which we had limited rehearsal time, and the set lists for each relied heavily on tunes we knew we could pull off well without thinking too hard about them. So last night, in preparation for what promises to be a rather busy Autumn, we not only began working on some brand new material, but also began sifting through the archives for old favorites that have been neglected during the past several months. It seems like a good time to drag them kicking and screaming back into the limelight, especially now that we have the luxury of four whole weeks of rehearsal time between us and the next gig.
A few of the songs that we've written (particularly some on the Hold No Illusions album) have been ignored when choosing set lists, largely because their arrangements are somewhat busy, and difficult to pull off well in a live performance. There's a lot going on in the instrumentation, and the ears get confused over what they should be listening to at any given moment. This is something we have been trying to fix, concentrating on one song at a time. Last night we had a breakthrough with one of Steve's songs, "Dream World." It sounds fine on the album, but whenever we attempted the arrangement live, it sounded like several short song ideas nailed together in a haphazard row. Last night we examined all the parts: keyboard, guitar, bass, and drums, and simplified them to the point where each one stands out better now, and the overall mix is stronger because there is enough space in the individual parts to let the other instruments shine through when and where they should.
It can be a difficult thing to simplify parts, because if you go too far, you run the risk of getting to the point where someone's segment of the piece actually becomes dull and repetitive; you never want to have anyone's part in the song get downright boring to play. I've heard plenty of recordings where I've said to myself, "I don't know how the bassist/sax player/drummer/rhythm guitarist/etc. can stand playing this one stupid line over and over!" Then again, during a long set, it's nice to have the occasional song where you don't have to be on guard all the time with an intricate bit to play throughout it. It's nice to relax and just play it easy now and then.
The trick is to think of each part as just that: a part of a collective whole (the song itself). By playing one's part well, the song will sound that much better. If one makes the part too busy, it will not sit well with the other instruments (it will also be clumsier to play than it has to be, and that's a waste of effort). If the part is too busy it will sound as though the instrument is fighting the others, rather than working with them, as if the player is trying to get flashy rather than simply play a part well. If all the instruments are doing this, the song will sound...well, bad. The overall mix will muddy up to the point where one has a disorganized cacaphony that will be next to impossible to sing over and have one's vocals heard, one's lyrics understood. Not to mention having any solo or melody instrument that ought to be front and center stand out properly. Working at cross purposes is not the object, but learning to work together as a collective organism isn't always easy.
This Fall will mark the fifth anniversary of our beginnings as a band. One would hope that during all that time, we might have learned something about how to work with our individual strengths and limitations in order to craft an overall sound that has a cohesive soul to it. A sonic identity, if you will, that suits the band as well as each individual in it.
There are nights such as last night when I feel like we're there. Nice job, guys.
