I would refer to this as a contractually-obligated post, but there is actually no contract. Another morning derailed by the idiotic political spewing of my leftist friends. I simply cannot understand it - we've all read the same books, studied the same teachings, and yet they draw completely different conclusions than I do, most of them dangerously wrong. That isn't to say that my right-wing friends aren't just as misguided, but they typically are operating from a different base philosophy from the outset.
I have to say, for a party calling itself pro-choice, they sure like their mandates. (This in contrast to the pro-life party, which supports capital punishment and endless war).
The whole left / right, Dem / Rep thing is a simple dyad, a two term system. They are opposite sides of the same coin (which they think we owe them), two ends of the same stick - and at the end of the day, I don't much notice any difference which end of the stick is being jammed up my ...
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Just When You Thought It Was Safe ...
Morning earworm: Games People Play, the Alan Parsons Project. A subliminal message, perhaps?
So, Saturday. Woke up feeling much better than Friday, but still opted to take it easy before the final show of the year. Or so I thought. Weirdness was already brewing on Friday - apparently word on the Web was that former vocalist JV wanted to come to Saturday's show and possibly sit in. Awkward, but not unheard of. We did extend the offer when she left, but it was kind of one of those polite things you just say, reasonably certain that they will never take you up on it. I didn't think anything of it at the time. Current vocalist AV did, it seems, and by mid-afternoon Saturday she had flaked out and bailed on the gig. A few texts were exchanged between her and JD & MG, and I eventually got a Facebook message from her, to the effect that Sorry, but I can't go through (the campground debacle) again, please don't hate me. So, after a few phone calls, we ended up canceling at the last minute. JV, incidentally, later texted that she wouldn't be there after all, completely oblivious to all of this. So, a night off. This is, of course, putting the good face on the fact that I lost a paycheck and we'll probably never play that room again. I thought we were through with the drama ...
To say that I am disappointed is an understatement. I understand her position, and indeed can fully appreciate it; but I had expected better from her. There is the dreaded Band Meeting on Thursday, when hopefully everyone can get everything out in the open and get things squared away. Unfortunately, I have the sense that this is going to involve the Grizzled Veteran Gigster / Voice of Reason and Experience (i.e. me) delivering the lecture on How Things Work. To everyone.
There are no guarantees in this line of work, especially in these times of economic woe. Our current trajectory of playing the animal clubs is decent money, but ultimately a dead end, and we have very nearly already reached it. There are no appropriate venues for us to play here in town unless we play for next to nothing, which I am not willing to do no matter how many of your friends will show up. And several other Unfortunate Truths about the music business at the bottom of the food chain.
We have three rights: the right to work, the right to pay to work, and the right to suffer the consequences of our work.
We have three obligations: the obligation to work, the obligation to pay to work, and the obligation to suffer the consequences of our work.
So, Saturday. Woke up feeling much better than Friday, but still opted to take it easy before the final show of the year. Or so I thought. Weirdness was already brewing on Friday - apparently word on the Web was that former vocalist JV wanted to come to Saturday's show and possibly sit in. Awkward, but not unheard of. We did extend the offer when she left, but it was kind of one of those polite things you just say, reasonably certain that they will never take you up on it. I didn't think anything of it at the time. Current vocalist AV did, it seems, and by mid-afternoon Saturday she had flaked out and bailed on the gig. A few texts were exchanged between her and JD & MG, and I eventually got a Facebook message from her, to the effect that Sorry, but I can't go through (the campground debacle) again, please don't hate me. So, after a few phone calls, we ended up canceling at the last minute. JV, incidentally, later texted that she wouldn't be there after all, completely oblivious to all of this. So, a night off. This is, of course, putting the good face on the fact that I lost a paycheck and we'll probably never play that room again. I thought we were through with the drama ...
To say that I am disappointed is an understatement. I understand her position, and indeed can fully appreciate it; but I had expected better from her. There is the dreaded Band Meeting on Thursday, when hopefully everyone can get everything out in the open and get things squared away. Unfortunately, I have the sense that this is going to involve the Grizzled Veteran Gigster / Voice of Reason and Experience (i.e. me) delivering the lecture on How Things Work. To everyone.
There are no guarantees in this line of work, especially in these times of economic woe. Our current trajectory of playing the animal clubs is decent money, but ultimately a dead end, and we have very nearly already reached it. There are no appropriate venues for us to play here in town unless we play for next to nothing, which I am not willing to do no matter how many of your friends will show up. And several other Unfortunate Truths about the music business at the bottom of the food chain.
We have three rights: the right to work, the right to pay to work, and the right to suffer the consequences of our work.
We have three obligations: the obligation to work, the obligation to pay to work, and the obligation to suffer the consequences of our work.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Roll With The Changes
Morning earworm: I'll Find My Way, the Derek Trucks Band. Bit of a mood shift, but still cool.
A rough day yesterday all around. Woke up feeling like total crap - nose running like a faucet, pounding headache, long brutal sneezing fits. Ugh. Always on a gig night, too. My first thought is ginger tea, but we have no ginger. Lemon-honey tea, then. No lemons, either. I had already loaded the van and hooked up the trailer, so I wasn't going to the store. We have limes, so let's see how lime-honey tea works. I don't recommend it - kind of like a hot margarita. Still, the vitamin C was there. Finally, in a fit of desperation, a half-shot of NyQuil before an extended nap. Some combination of all of these things worked, and I was feeling almost human by the time I arrived at the gig.
The challenges remained, though, spending much of the night wrestling with dead batteries and broken strings. These were met with surprising aplomb, considering that it is not something I often have to endure, thanks to regular gear maintenance. Well, that and it's been a long time since I've used anything that took batteries - I see a power supply in my near future.
Back in the day, as a young gigster, these sort of pitfalls were commonplace; you learn to deal with them and move on. Swapping out dead pedals in mid-song was just another job skill you developed, as was finishing the set on five strings. Or so I thought. Apparently nobody else in the band has ever seen this, and was totally gobsmacked that I did the last three songs of the night without a B string. It is a bit tricky, but as I mentioned yesterday, you just have to turn of the auto-pilot. All of the notes are still there, they just aren't where you are used to them being, so you have to pay attention to what you're doing. Some people even do stuff like this on purpose, just to keep themselves fresh - drummer Bill Bruford used to have his roadie set his kit up differently very night, to avoid getting into a habit / rut. I'll admit that's a bit extreme, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared for the curve ball that is inevitably going to come your way :D
The highest quality of attention we may give is love.
A rough day yesterday all around. Woke up feeling like total crap - nose running like a faucet, pounding headache, long brutal sneezing fits. Ugh. Always on a gig night, too. My first thought is ginger tea, but we have no ginger. Lemon-honey tea, then. No lemons, either. I had already loaded the van and hooked up the trailer, so I wasn't going to the store. We have limes, so let's see how lime-honey tea works. I don't recommend it - kind of like a hot margarita. Still, the vitamin C was there. Finally, in a fit of desperation, a half-shot of NyQuil before an extended nap. Some combination of all of these things worked, and I was feeling almost human by the time I arrived at the gig.
The challenges remained, though, spending much of the night wrestling with dead batteries and broken strings. These were met with surprising aplomb, considering that it is not something I often have to endure, thanks to regular gear maintenance. Well, that and it's been a long time since I've used anything that took batteries - I see a power supply in my near future.
Back in the day, as a young gigster, these sort of pitfalls were commonplace; you learn to deal with them and move on. Swapping out dead pedals in mid-song was just another job skill you developed, as was finishing the set on five strings. Or so I thought. Apparently nobody else in the band has ever seen this, and was totally gobsmacked that I did the last three songs of the night without a B string. It is a bit tricky, but as I mentioned yesterday, you just have to turn of the auto-pilot. All of the notes are still there, they just aren't where you are used to them being, so you have to pay attention to what you're doing. Some people even do stuff like this on purpose, just to keep themselves fresh - drummer Bill Bruford used to have his roadie set his kit up differently very night, to avoid getting into a habit / rut. I'll admit that's a bit extreme, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared for the curve ball that is inevitably going to come your way :D
The highest quality of attention we may give is love.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Pre-Game Ritual
Morning earworm: Peruvian Skies, Dream Theater. A top-10 all-time fave.
I don't much like the new widgets - too big and obtrusive. Once more, a steaming pile handed to us and called an upgrade.
So, Friday again. The final two shows of the 2010 season. While updating the website yesterday, I discovered that we have 18 gigs booked for next year already - in the 21st Century, this is job security.
For lack of anything better this morning, a discussion of the Pregame Ritual. It is commonly known in sports circles that many players superstitiously go through a set routine before games. I confess I do this as well on gig days, though more from practicality (and habit) as superstition. To begin, we ask the question When does the performance begin? It is, in fact, well before hitting the stage. For me, it begins sometime that morning. I tend to do very little on that day, since I am ordinarily a morning person and I know it will be a late night, usually with significant driving involved; so, take it easy. At some point between 10:00 and noon, I go down to the Bunker and pack up my gear. Make sure I have everything - even as stripped down as my rig is currently, it remains of sufficient complexity that one missing piece will scuttle the whole thing. Plus, it is an exercise in focus, the beginning of the mental process for the performance. From there, loading out to the van. Again, focus - it is a bit like moving, a bit like a jigsaw puzzle; there is a certain way everything goes in to maximize space available. As long as I am out, I usually hook up the trailer at this point too, so everything is ready for departure.
Once this is done, a light lunch, an optional Epsom salt bath and a nap. Upon arising, a shower and personal grooming. This is the point that I am "on". Get dressed, including black underwear for the gig. Not superstition, but symbolic - I don't normally wear this, so it is part of the uniform, and more importantly an act of intention. Deliberately disengaging the autopilot we usually go through life on. Grab the stage clothes (never set up in what you are going to wear, it will only get dirty) and guitar (which doesn't get left in the vehicle under any circumstances, even at home, and especially in this weather) and head out the door, stepping over the threshold with the left foot first. Again, an act of intention - it doesn't matter so much what you do, just that you do it consciously and deliberately. This is also how I step onto the stage. It is all about focus. There are nights when one gets distracted, or just ignores the process, and suddenly you realize you are halfway through the third song of the set and you don't even realize how you got there. Recovery is possible, but the opportunity for a proper beginning is lost.
There are, of course, variations on this - usually if somebody is riding with me - but for the most part, this is a typical Friday here at Lake Arecibo.
Begin with the possible and move gradually towards the impossible.
I don't much like the new widgets - too big and obtrusive. Once more, a steaming pile handed to us and called an upgrade.
So, Friday again. The final two shows of the 2010 season. While updating the website yesterday, I discovered that we have 18 gigs booked for next year already - in the 21st Century, this is job security.
For lack of anything better this morning, a discussion of the Pregame Ritual. It is commonly known in sports circles that many players superstitiously go through a set routine before games. I confess I do this as well on gig days, though more from practicality (and habit) as superstition. To begin, we ask the question When does the performance begin? It is, in fact, well before hitting the stage. For me, it begins sometime that morning. I tend to do very little on that day, since I am ordinarily a morning person and I know it will be a late night, usually with significant driving involved; so, take it easy. At some point between 10:00 and noon, I go down to the Bunker and pack up my gear. Make sure I have everything - even as stripped down as my rig is currently, it remains of sufficient complexity that one missing piece will scuttle the whole thing. Plus, it is an exercise in focus, the beginning of the mental process for the performance. From there, loading out to the van. Again, focus - it is a bit like moving, a bit like a jigsaw puzzle; there is a certain way everything goes in to maximize space available. As long as I am out, I usually hook up the trailer at this point too, so everything is ready for departure.
Once this is done, a light lunch, an optional Epsom salt bath and a nap. Upon arising, a shower and personal grooming. This is the point that I am "on". Get dressed, including black underwear for the gig. Not superstition, but symbolic - I don't normally wear this, so it is part of the uniform, and more importantly an act of intention. Deliberately disengaging the autopilot we usually go through life on. Grab the stage clothes (never set up in what you are going to wear, it will only get dirty) and guitar (which doesn't get left in the vehicle under any circumstances, even at home, and especially in this weather) and head out the door, stepping over the threshold with the left foot first. Again, an act of intention - it doesn't matter so much what you do, just that you do it consciously and deliberately. This is also how I step onto the stage. It is all about focus. There are nights when one gets distracted, or just ignores the process, and suddenly you realize you are halfway through the third song of the set and you don't even realize how you got there. Recovery is possible, but the opportunity for a proper beginning is lost.
There are, of course, variations on this - usually if somebody is riding with me - but for the most part, this is a typical Friday here at Lake Arecibo.
Begin with the possible and move gradually towards the impossible.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Elegant Simplicity
Morning earworm: The Sound of Muzak, Porcupine Tree - a great song, though painfully true.
Much time both yesterday and this morning pondering further gear issues; I'll spare you the details, as your heads are probably still spinning from yesterday's post - lol. Let's just say that a potential trainwreck had appeared, and during the wee hours a simple and elegant solution presented itself, which means yet another week spent rewiring my looping rig. So it goes. I'm sure I've mentioned elsewhere that I secretly have as much fun doing this as I do playing.
Equally elegant and simple: last night's dinner. Specifically, I think I have finally mastered gravy. I have also mentioned elsewhere my curious history, in that I mostly learned to cook from watching tv, which has produced somewhat lopsided results - I can do tea-smoked duck legs and mushroom-orzo ragout in my sleep, but simple stuff like salads are a complete mystery to me. Up until now, gravies have fallen into the latter category. I have a functional knowledge of the process, but have only just now gotten the ratio / recipe right - 2 Tbsp each butter and flour for the roux to 1½ cups of stock, beef in this case. And seasoning, of course; something of a secret weapon there is that I have gotten wonderful results using my garlicky ancho chile spice rub, of all things. Combined with the steamed-and-riced method for mashed potatoes, I had a side dish that nearly overshadowed the venison meatloaf, it was so good.
Now, I am faced with what to do tonight. After some consideration, I am leaning toward buffalo shrimp, though it may involve making a fresh batch of mojo de ajo. It doesn't necessarily, but I need to anyway, and it does make it even better :D
Discard the superfluous.
Much time both yesterday and this morning pondering further gear issues; I'll spare you the details, as your heads are probably still spinning from yesterday's post - lol. Let's just say that a potential trainwreck had appeared, and during the wee hours a simple and elegant solution presented itself, which means yet another week spent rewiring my looping rig. So it goes. I'm sure I've mentioned elsewhere that I secretly have as much fun doing this as I do playing.
Equally elegant and simple: last night's dinner. Specifically, I think I have finally mastered gravy. I have also mentioned elsewhere my curious history, in that I mostly learned to cook from watching tv, which has produced somewhat lopsided results - I can do tea-smoked duck legs and mushroom-orzo ragout in my sleep, but simple stuff like salads are a complete mystery to me. Up until now, gravies have fallen into the latter category. I have a functional knowledge of the process, but have only just now gotten the ratio / recipe right - 2 Tbsp each butter and flour for the roux to 1½ cups of stock, beef in this case. And seasoning, of course; something of a secret weapon there is that I have gotten wonderful results using my garlicky ancho chile spice rub, of all things. Combined with the steamed-and-riced method for mashed potatoes, I had a side dish that nearly overshadowed the venison meatloaf, it was so good.
Now, I am faced with what to do tonight. After some consideration, I am leaning toward buffalo shrimp, though it may involve making a fresh batch of mojo de ajo. It doesn't necessarily, but I need to anyway, and it does make it even better :D
Discard the superfluous.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Another Rambling Gear Post
Morning earworm: Bridge of Sighs, Robin Trower. This one has been lurking around in my head for a few days now, and for a reason. That distinctive swirling, trippy guitar sound comes from an oddball pedal known as the Univox Uni-Vibe. A curious thing, the Uni-Vibe - it isn't really a chorus, or a phaser, or a rotary speaker simulator, but some weird hybrid of them all, with its own unique sound. Trower is most readily identified with it; Hendrix had one, and a few others.
And I just scored one on eBay :D
OK, actually I got a newer model made by Voodoo Labs, a faithful reproduction but of much sturdier and more reliable construction - this was 1960's technology, after all. Still, it represents among other things the final piece of my new pedalboard, which will hopefully be up and running when we resume gigging next month.
Looking back, I notice with some amusement that I have come full circle with my stage rig. Twenty-five years ago I hit the road with a 1976 Fender Strat, a homemade pedalboard containing a volume pedal, Vox CryBaby Wah, Ibanez Tube Screamer, MXR Flanger, and an old Univox tape delay, run into a MusicMan HD-130 Reverb amp with a MusicMan 4x12 cabinet. Over the years this has evolved through a variety of guitars, amps, and multi-fx units, including several which ran direct to the PA, using no amp at all. Today - technically within the next month - I have assembled what I consider the best sounding system to date: a 1996 Fender Deluxe Strat Plus, a homemade pedalboard containing a volume pedal, Vox 847A Wah, Boss CS-3 Compressor, Soundblox Classic Distortion (set on the Tube Screamer model), Voodoo Labs Micro-Vibe, and a Boss RC-20 Loop Station, running into a Digitech TSR-24S multi-fx (for modulation and delay), feeding into the very same 30-year-old MusicMan HD-130 Reverb amp with a Peavey 4x12 cabinet.
I realize this means absolutely nothing to most of you - lol - but I am stoked. Maybe I should do a little video when I get this all together to explain what all of these gadgets do. In the meantime, thanks for your patience :D
The musician has three disciplines: the disciplines of the hands, the head and the heart.
And I just scored one on eBay :D
OK, actually I got a newer model made by Voodoo Labs, a faithful reproduction but of much sturdier and more reliable construction - this was 1960's technology, after all. Still, it represents among other things the final piece of my new pedalboard, which will hopefully be up and running when we resume gigging next month.
Looking back, I notice with some amusement that I have come full circle with my stage rig. Twenty-five years ago I hit the road with a 1976 Fender Strat, a homemade pedalboard containing a volume pedal, Vox CryBaby Wah, Ibanez Tube Screamer, MXR Flanger, and an old Univox tape delay, run into a MusicMan HD-130 Reverb amp with a MusicMan 4x12 cabinet. Over the years this has evolved through a variety of guitars, amps, and multi-fx units, including several which ran direct to the PA, using no amp at all. Today - technically within the next month - I have assembled what I consider the best sounding system to date: a 1996 Fender Deluxe Strat Plus, a homemade pedalboard containing a volume pedal, Vox 847A Wah, Boss CS-3 Compressor, Soundblox Classic Distortion (set on the Tube Screamer model), Voodoo Labs Micro-Vibe, and a Boss RC-20 Loop Station, running into a Digitech TSR-24S multi-fx (for modulation and delay), feeding into the very same 30-year-old MusicMan HD-130 Reverb amp with a Peavey 4x12 cabinet.
I realize this means absolutely nothing to most of you - lol - but I am stoked. Maybe I should do a little video when I get this all together to explain what all of these gadgets do. In the meantime, thanks for your patience :D
The musician has three disciplines: the disciplines of the hands, the head and the heart.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Off the Road Again
Morning earworm: a new section of Shape of the World, to be worked on this week. Can't provide a link, as it doesn't exist outside of my head yet. It could be worse - yesterday I woke up with Les Paul & Mary Ford's Mockingbird Hill on the endless loop. That'll get on your nerves in a hurry - lol.
So, it was quite a weekend. Seems crazy in retrospect - 300 miles for a one hour show - but it was worth it in so many ways. Catching up and reconnecting with a number of old friends, some of whom traveled even farther that we did. There was, of course, a measure of adventure involved - I don't know that I'm ready for The Amazing Race, but my skills seem to be intact, despite not traveling much in recent years. The drive up was pretty uneventful; it still amazes me how close together everything is on this side of the country. Having spent my adult life either on the Left Coast or in the vast plains of the Midwest, I have difficulty grasping that DC, Baltimore, Philadelphia and NYC are all on the same highway and only 1-2 hours apart.
Travel time is relative, though. It was nearly 1.5 hours from our hotel to the show, and the venue was nearly visible from our room. The map said it was ten miles. Working the system, we caught the free shuttle from the hotel to Newark Airport; from there, another shuttle bus into midtown Manhattan, a walk of a few blocks and finally a city bus downtown. Adventurous I may be, but I am quite glad that I chose not to drive that particular leg of the journey. My initial impression of the Big Apple is that it is claustrophobic. The legendary "concrete canyons" are as oppressive as they are imposing; everything is packed in so tightly and is so congested with both foot and vehicular traffic that it almost feels like a Third World city. Granted, this was Times Square, which rivals anything in Las Vegas for sensory overload. It wasn't quite as bad when we got downtown to the Financial District; being a Saturday, this was almost deserted by comparison. Indeed, the World Financial Center (the show venue) nearly looked closed, and may of the shops inside were. We were finally able to locate an open restaurant, on the recommendation of a friend we encountered there; a great meal with a delightful view of the harbor.
The performance itself, in the WFC Winter Garden, was exceptional, though the room itself was a bit challenging - it would be a bit like playing at a Mall; there was a fair amount of foot traffic through the space, mostly respectful but there were a few clueless individuals as always. One woman in particular comes to mind, charging through directly behind us during an especially quiet passage in heels that made her sound like a team of Clydesdales. Still, an amazing show, as always. There was surprisingly little weird energy, which I thought might be a bit of a concern, inasmuch as the far end of the performance space is a huge window looking out over the crater and constructions sight of Ground Zero.
On second thought, I can at least provide some sense of the performance.
I could see going back sometime and doing some tourist stuff, when the weather warms up, but all in all, if I feel the need for the Big City experience, I feel much more at home in Chicago.
So, it was quite a weekend. Seems crazy in retrospect - 300 miles for a one hour show - but it was worth it in so many ways. Catching up and reconnecting with a number of old friends, some of whom traveled even farther that we did. There was, of course, a measure of adventure involved - I don't know that I'm ready for The Amazing Race, but my skills seem to be intact, despite not traveling much in recent years. The drive up was pretty uneventful; it still amazes me how close together everything is on this side of the country. Having spent my adult life either on the Left Coast or in the vast plains of the Midwest, I have difficulty grasping that DC, Baltimore, Philadelphia and NYC are all on the same highway and only 1-2 hours apart.
Travel time is relative, though. It was nearly 1.5 hours from our hotel to the show, and the venue was nearly visible from our room. The map said it was ten miles. Working the system, we caught the free shuttle from the hotel to Newark Airport; from there, another shuttle bus into midtown Manhattan, a walk of a few blocks and finally a city bus downtown. Adventurous I may be, but I am quite glad that I chose not to drive that particular leg of the journey. My initial impression of the Big Apple is that it is claustrophobic. The legendary "concrete canyons" are as oppressive as they are imposing; everything is packed in so tightly and is so congested with both foot and vehicular traffic that it almost feels like a Third World city. Granted, this was Times Square, which rivals anything in Las Vegas for sensory overload. It wasn't quite as bad when we got downtown to the Financial District; being a Saturday, this was almost deserted by comparison. Indeed, the World Financial Center (the show venue) nearly looked closed, and may of the shops inside were. We were finally able to locate an open restaurant, on the recommendation of a friend we encountered there; a great meal with a delightful view of the harbor.
The performance itself, in the WFC Winter Garden, was exceptional, though the room itself was a bit challenging - it would be a bit like playing at a Mall; there was a fair amount of foot traffic through the space, mostly respectful but there were a few clueless individuals as always. One woman in particular comes to mind, charging through directly behind us during an especially quiet passage in heels that made her sound like a team of Clydesdales. Still, an amazing show, as always. There was surprisingly little weird energy, which I thought might be a bit of a concern, inasmuch as the far end of the performance space is a huge window looking out over the crater and constructions sight of Ground Zero.
On second thought, I can at least provide some sense of the performance.
I could see going back sometime and doing some tourist stuff, when the weather warms up, but all in all, if I feel the need for the Big City experience, I feel much more at home in Chicago.
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