Category: Blog

Posted on

more from the weekend

I was very good this weekend.

Along with the studio work I set a goal to go see about three shows locally, all with the purpose of trying to eventually book shows. To entrench myself more in the “scene.” Whatever the hell that means. It all sounds so mercenary, and it is, of course. But I don’t know how else to go about it, and they were, at least, all people I respect and like.

BUT…

Thursday was the first show I wanted to go see, but I ran until about 11:30pm at the studio and missed it. Friday’s show was in Athens and when the time came the prospect of driving out there was a bit much. So, I resolved to make sure I went to the show on Saturday.

Except, of course, I didn’t go.

But I DID say I was very good this weekend.

I opted out of the show Saturday because I was invited to Linda Bolley’s birthday party. Linda plays in Gentle Readers, and also plays with Michelle Malone’s touring band. She was nearly in the Million Box until the Michelle Malone thing happened. I like her a lot, too. So, I went there instead. Which turned out to be the right thing (from a mercenary and mental standpoint) to do.

But lest the loyal reader feel I have suddenly developed an outgoing personality, I spent five minutes after arriving sitting in my car, debating on whether I would wimp out and go back home. I went alone, which was shocker #1. It was a party bound to be full of people I didn’t know (even if we all were local musicians for the most part), that’s #2. And #3 from the invitation I knew that 2 people had been invited who had a public distaste for me (which, to my knowledge, is the sum total in this city of people who do. Well, that I know of anyway).

But, still, I went in.

They weren’t there. But plenty of people I knew were. The first person I saw was Rob Gal (my producer and bandmate, for anyone who has come in late) and John. Michael and Sheila Lorant were there (they’re in Big Fish Ensemble, Michael played drums on Slumberland). Becky Shaw, who I met recently at Rob’s studio, was there. Sue Witty and her manager Alayne were there. Michelle Malone. Sonia Tetlow lives there, and was there. Greg, Lee, and of course, Linda (who lives there, too, and it was her birthday, after all) from Gentle Readers were there. And Cooper Seay (she was in Viva la Diva and the Ellen James Society) was there.

I don’t list them to name drop. Frankly I assume most people reading won’t know who the hell they are anyway. But apart from Michelle, I knew them all to some extent, and talked to them all. Cooper I see very rarely, I met her when I was still in Radiant City, I’ve always liked her. But I don’t really know her at all, and was surprised that she knew me, walked over and called me by name. She’s moving to London soon and is having some party beforehand and invited me. Becky I met recently and have seen her a lot at various random places since. The rest I know pretty well and like a lot. There were a lot of other people there who I didn’t know and didn’t meet.

But my point is, I felt… well… when I released Slumberland I felt, for the first time, like I was a Musician. It felt real. I have vacillated since then, between retaining that sense and not, but overall, I still feel it. Being at the party, talking with friends there, and acquaintances… okay, I feel silly even typing it… but I felt like I was an Atlanta Musician. I felt like I belonged, rather than like some upstart or party crasher (figuratively-speaking), which I realize is how I’ve felt since Radiant City started.

See, some of you might not understand why I say I feel weird to be told how much someone I know likes my music, or when I get asked for an autograph or something. But to me, I’m just this shy goof who’s managed to string together some lucky breaks, book shows and record a CD. So, it felt strange to be surrounded by established people in the Atlanta music scene and suddenly realize that I must be one of them, too, in some capacity.

Posted on

10 Jan: studio

NOW WAIT FOR LAST YEAR
me – vocals

also
studio 12 Jan 2002
w/ weaklazyliar
backing vocals on:
“Secondhand”
“Empty Space”

Thursday I was at the studio, finally. We did backing vocals for NOW WAIT FOR LAST YEAR. Nothing that took more than one pass for the most part, some doubling of some of them. After doing a few bits we decided to re-do the lead vocal on a different mic for a warmer sound. This song, as I’ve said before, has undergone about 4 different versions, I think. Though I had originally intended to have it on the CD it ended up dropped. Too many slow songs and, at the time, it was one more. But now it’s back (at least in the running to be on the CD, we’ll have extra songs in the end) in 4/4 form, and somehow, when all was said and done, a verse long since dropped has reappeared somewhat at the end of the song.

This song was written before “Slumberland” was written, though they came in succession. It was the song where I began to realize that I was heading in a different direction than the rest of the old band. There were long discussions about its length, and it was the first time that I ever flatly said I wouldn’t change a song. To be honest, though, I was wrong, and it was too long. Funny, too, because I did make a lot of compromises on “Slumberland” with the band, and when it was finally recorded solo it ended up being very close to it’s original form. Where as this song is probably closer to what the band had wanted (faster and shorter). But at the time I wanted something different… moodier and slower (I’ve written plenty of that in the interim, so changing this song up now is fine), but really I think it was more about asserting a growing self-confidence in my songs at the time.

The wacky world of my brain.

Saturday afternoon I went to Zero Return (another Atlanta studio. Rob from Man or Astroman is the co-owner and is producing their CD) to do some backing vocals for weaklazyliar. They are re-recording the CD they had been working on, from scratch. It’s paying off for them, though, because I think the sound they’re getting now is exactly what they were going for. The drums, in particular, sounded much better than they did before, and the acoustic guitar as well. As I type they have probably finished mixing it, if they were able to keep the schedule they set. I had a catch in my throat that would not go away but everyone seemed happy with the results. Which was good, because I was really hoping to sort of make a subtle pitch for myself with the studio. When I was recording Thursday I got into a sort of depressing conversation about what my goals are with music (info like, a friend of mine, Josh Joplin, is out with his band playing halls, opening for Matthew Sweet and the like, but is still only getting paid $150 a gig or so). I think my goals are a little too vague at times. To be honest I would be happy at this point to somehow manage a living between music and freelance web design, if only I could also manage some national notoriety at music. It’s funny to realize suddenly that you really ARE just doing it for the music, and that you just want to be respected for what you have to say and how you say it. The upshot being that the discussion was depressing but didn’t leave me depressed, if that makes any sense. So, I decided in the course of it that I was going to try and make music more of an actual CAREER as well.

Unfortunately I’m still not quite sure what that entails. I don’t mean I want to get into the industry again, but I would like to get paid to sing and play, to subsidize what I do. So my current first step is making myself known to the other studios in town, for backing vocals and the like. It’s not going to feed me but it will at least help pay for the CD in some capacity.

Posted on

December 31, 2001

A little while ago I posted about the month of Christmas in our house, but recently I was explaining our New Year’s Eve party to someone and it occurred to me that the two for me are inextricably linked.

Christmas for me is a very nostalgic thing. And it’s not even just a personal nostalgia, but also a sort of nostalgia for a past that I wasn’t even a part of. There’s a reason why I could sit in front of TNT’s marathon of A Christmas Story all day Christmas, and it’s because, for me, that vision of Christmas is the archetype in my mind. That pre/during/post-war period. I have a thing for the Art Deco stuff to begin with, but the WWII Christmas fetish is something more for me. That movie, in particular, but also a collection of CDs we have of Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, those WWII radio broadcasts, we even have a collection of CDs that a friend was able to find for us of Christmas radio shows from the early fifties. Last year the festivities even included a night out at a place in town called the 57th Fighter Group Squadron restaurant, which is totally done up to resemble a bombed out chateau in France during the war. It sits next to a small airport runway where you can watch the planes take off and land. (we weren’t able to go again this year, because of circumstances, and well, the entire month’s celebrations were pretty limited. But that’s okay.)

It’s a nostalgia that fuels the entire month of Christmas, and I revel in it. And if you asked me to explain why I wallow in this nostalgia for a time period in which I wasn’t even a twinkle in my father’s pants (reference freely stolen from Jellyfish) I couldn’t even begin to guess.

And maybe that is enough weirdness for you. But there’s more. Because, late Christmas day, the melancholy sets in. The holiday is over, the month of anticipation and celebration has paid its dividends and the refuse lays strewn in the house.

And I want it out.

It always bothered me, the post holiday letdown. A few years ago I started taking the tree down within a few days after the holiday. About two years ago I finally started taking it down the next day, first thing. Pulling the ornaments, clearing all the decorations and unceremoniously dragging the tree through the sliding glass doors and over the deck to the driveway. Once it’s over, the nostalgia depresses me, it makes me feel stagnant and immobile. Autumn and Winter seem to draw out the nostalgia in me anyway, and the holidays only push me further into it, so by the time it’s December 26th I’ve had my fill.

When I was trying to describe New Year’s Eve, I realized the part it plays for me in all of this. Because every year, as the party winds down, I feel expectant (and drunk, usually). I can’t shake it. And the next day when we first get up, as we stumble around the wreckage of the house, hungover, struggling to slap together a palatable breakfast, I want the world new. I want everything changed, everything redesigned and fresh.

I am, of course, always disappointed. Except for two years ago when we went out and I bought a Mt. Dew only to discover they had changed their logo. It was a beautiful moment, and just goes to show how little it would take to appease me on this count.

But after a month of celebrating the past, when New Year’s Eve comes I celebrate the future and purge the past. My year is cleared out, the bad is invalidated, and by the time I wake up the next day the world has begun again. Give me a day to recuperate, to clean the house, relax, breathe. New Year’s Night is fondue night (a recent tradition).

And by January 2nd I want it to be spring and I want to get moving.