A Sausage Fest (could be "Gothic Power Violence" v. JZ)

Recording was a hoot, and there was a lot of sausage eaten (seriously, no double entendre here). Dameon, Andrew, Greg and I did parts for two songs: "God Damn Sinner" and "Rebel". Both were a piece of cake. Shortly after we did our parts, some of Uncle Chuck's friends arrived (BLC is too punctual, usually). The female voices really filled the parts out nicely--you get punch from the male voices and clarity from the female voices. It could have been done in a handful of takes, but Chuck wanted some really thick sounds (probably to compete with those bad-ass guitars). This is going to be a great record. Of course, Eve got in on the action, and she doesn't stick out in the unmixed group (totally amazed me; she's a neat kid, even if she's taken to calling me ZEEHEE).

Margret brought more [Polish] sausage and [Polish] cheese and [Polish] beer. After bratwurst, I was waiting for someone to have an infarction. There otta be a law...

Greg introduced me to someone as "our amazing bassist and, now, organist." That was actually pretty cool, because I'm not amazing, but I've learned to take a compliment. Ray Manzarek I'm not, but I guess that once that comp drops (late September is what that email sez), I'll be the bassist/organist. It doesn't count if you don't do it live, though. I won't allow that to happen. I never really dug playing keys live, although it gives you a good place to hide when the sequencer goes berserk (MIDI is evil; don't get me started).

I heard some stuff from the RR show, too. It was Andrew's recorder that was stationed at the FOH desk. The mix was a lot better there than in the monitors, for sure. Besides the lush lush lush natural reverb (too much, really), it sounds pretty good. We're going to see if we can dry it up a bit with the SPL Transient Designer. It seems that there's no limit to signal processing these days. The Norse Audio God was explaining this "magic box" to me, and I'm stunned that one can manipulate transients' attack and decay so easily. I'd have to fiddle a lot with compressors and gating to remove excessive reverb, but this thing apparently makes it easy easy.

Suzuki Madness (feats of strength)

Today while backing in to a big pile of crap, I nudged one of the four jack stands that were supporting a gutted Suzuki Samurai (no engine, transmission, roof or wheels). Of course, the damn thing came down. Unfortunately, the boss was standing right there and was pissed. I said that we'll just pick it up and place it back on the stands.

Then, I picked it up and Manuel stuck the stands back under the frame. I really didn't think that I was going to be able to dead lift a Suzuki, but I totally did. Hilarious. I didn't even dislocate my wrists, but I think that I'm three inches shorter.

I'm truly astonished.

One Of These People Doesn't Belong At The Show (not a music post, just whining)

Why? Dig this (or watch me rationalize my anti-social):

• I don't even dig the social bullshit that comes with live music. I love love live music, but I really don't want to deal with people. I'd rather listen to the soundboard recording at home, honestly. So, obviously, I totally had to get the fuck out of there. Too many people were vibin' me out completely.
  

• Steve's cousin made an appearance (need to get that checked out--now that Manuel isn't in jail and Kip's not on vacation, I ought to be able to do that). Shittin' blood just ain't cool, my dudes, especially when you're at the show.
  

• After all, it should've been Neil's show. Next time, I'll just say 'no thank you.' It would've been different if he'd asked me. I feel entirely dirty. It was one of those things that at the time seemed like a good idea. My friends encouraged me, and they're pretty convincing (and mean well, I'm sure).

• I totally fucked up, too. All the energy drinks and lime green wristbands in the world couldn't have stopped that. I just ain't Rocks Tar material, friends. I can't even play the instrument after 20 years. In fact, I ought to just quit.
  

• I'm fucking tired. Getting up and starting work before the sun comes up and then having to drive fast and run all day makes for complete exhaustion.

Tomorrow, though, it all starts again. I just wish that I could live up to the tattoo. I'm so fed up with this shit. Seriously.

Maximum R&B (epic narrative of my weekend)

Since Wednesday, it's been non-stop, my droogs. I'm fucking burnt out, seriously.

Wednesday was the OC photos. I'm not so into getting photographed, but Laurie seems to be pretty cool. I think that I screwed up my neck posing.

Thursday night was Bad Luck City's big bad tour to Fort Collins, where we played with Badman (who are awesome). The 'tape' of the show sounds amazing as far as the band goes. The vocals sounded shitty, though. I had fun.

Friday was a fucking painful day at work. I'm glad that I don't do that shit every day. It was a special occasion.

Friday night was the baddest show in town: Reverend Deadeye (who's learnt hisself some tricks on the road), The Omens, Badman (killer set), and us. The Larimer Lounge has two blown monitors at the moment: stage right and the drum monitor. Uncool.

Saturday was picking up Mesa number two at the shop. Next, I killed some time with LRC (I wanted to buy her lunch but she had other plans). Then, it was off to the BLS band rehearsal. We're going to pull this shit off. Live music needs a little danger to be exciting to play (I think that Steve Harris said something like that once). I went home and got myself drunk (finally).

Sunday was agonizing over rehearsal tapes and then delivering 'em to BLS. Then I went to LRC's where French toast was waiting for me (with a couple pounds of bacon). Killer. We screwed around and went to the rock-stick-mega-haus because I needed another rack case for numero dos. We ate chinese food and watched Clue (I hadn't seen it through--just bits). I passed out and got a nice little nap before going to rehearsal again. We rocked.

I'm fucking tired.