Rushing by in excitement, forgetting wallets in jeans for a brand new suit, we tore through the day, with a ray of light for all of us involved.
We riffed back and forth our war stories- getting beaten by jocks, rednecks, and bikers. Except when I'm with Morgan (who has more dumbass scars than anyone I know), I usually win the victim-story contest. Ain't nothing to be proud of I guess. One of those competitions where you lose out by being the winner.
Someone asked me the themes and concepts on the new record. I had to say that I wanted it to be very different from the last record- less sentimental, less lo-fi, less heartache. I still played all the instruments, but lyrically it was influenced by Hafiz, horror movies, and Gorguts. As a result, its another record that I'm not sure how people will take it.
If I weren't myself and I was reading this blog, I would start to wonder if I'd turned into an espresso-drinking yuppie that lives in suburbia. And maybe I am, maybe I always have been. Word, I'm not from the street and I never claimed to be. I have brilliant red cardinals in my garden. I've always made a cushion to fall on. Yet I've slept on more dirty floors than the average person, without complaint. If my life is pretty now its only because there's a pretty woman in it.
Does anyone have The Soundhouse Tapes? Can't seem to track a copy down.
Researching the best cabinets to go with my amp for Dead Child (a)live. Thinking a slant 4x12 with a flex 2x12 will give a good combination of wide spread plus volume.
Still setting up the house before I tackle the studio. Yet I still find time to buy records, my pastime, with a Nektar lp and the new Prince.
I was playing the Dead Child mixes for Todd Brashear. After hitting play we were both stunned. It was so highly compressed and eq'ed that it made one gigantic wave of distortion. I had to apologize to him and reinforce that it really does sound great, we just fucked up the mix.
I know its a fear-dream, but it inspired me today to take out all the effects and just run it raw and naked, ala Spiderland.
Cigarettes are starting to get more and more nasty and the notion of quitting more appealing. I used to think clean air deprived me of a smoke, now it's the other way around.
Yesterday I bought the ultimate Dead Child amplifier. The perfect tone and volume without any effects or magic dust- just a deep, tight growl and roar. Doc Electro, an eccentric and endearing chap who does the best repairs in the KY/IN area.
It's a one of a kind amp which he is custom making for me (not the 'Blue Balls' amp he has on his site). I bought the very first one- he was so stoked he brought his wife out to meet me, took my photo for his website (www.docelectro.com), and free repairs for as long as he is alive! Belive it, I'm going to be hassling him on his deathbed.
The more I work on the Dead Child music the more I am convinced of our potential. Everyone is such great players/writers that anyone who wants their music lean and mean will be satiated.
Our singer, Dahm, tells these stories of a world filled with robots, zombies, and vampire whores. Michael writes songs that makes you want to fight and bounce off the walls. Tony is a monster, plays like he's trying to blow up the mics. And Todd is precise, taking it down into subsonic ranges. and I just fucking shred.
chillin' like bob dylan in louisville, hoping for some kind of mess to take charge and lead. There isn't much in this world that I can't lay out in front of my mind.
easter sunday and I'm talking to the neighbors, carrying heavy equipment at 7am, and trying my best to fight off the sleep monkeys.
I quit school to go to berklee college of music- high school was interfering with my guitar practice. If I got in 6 hours it was a bad day, 9 hours was a good day. Then I failed out of Berklee because I wasn't interested in learning jazz. I was a young punk with a mohawk and my brother had just passed away- what else could I do but exactly what I want?
16 isn't too young to know your career path. Its when you're at your most bull-headed and idealistic. We do what we can.
I remember walking down the street with my first girlfriend- she was a goth with burgundy hair and I was a punk, or so I thought. She said, "Can I kiss your best friend tonight?" "Sure," I replied. What else could I say? Inside I was very upset, partly because she didn't have any friends that I wanted to kiss.
Last I heard she was working at a cinema and became a devout catholic.