That palm-sized digital 4-track I got in 2003 was money well spent.
This is the first time I've ever consciously traveled to write music. What a brilliant concept. I'm at Menegroth studios, home of Colin Marston (Krallice, Behold... The Arctopus, Disrhythmia) and, for lack of better expression, the future of USBM. Yes, I truly believe that.
I haven't shaved, exercised, showered, or changed clothes in three days so I'm grungy, smelly and flabby. But this time I'm catching the music instead of chasing it in circles. Having ensnared it, I'm busy trimming it into shape. I'll do the same with my beautiful body but not yet-- I came for the music and so I remain.
I finally have a lofty ambition for a record again, some shot in the dark I really have to stretch to get near. As always, a good record has a spiritual function. Without getting too far-fetched, you have to enter into its world. Records that enter your daily life are ultimately disposable. The recordings that stick around are the ones that take me inside of them. That's the kind of music I'm trying to write. Today, tonight, tomorrow.