Me and my girlfriend, we don’t wear any shoes.
Listen:
The Hailing
Grandaddy” *sigh*
psssst
Read:
John Steinbeck
Jared Diamond
Enjoy:
Civilized grown-up milkshake
Spicy Spicy
Cool down
Blobfest is this weekend! They are actually recreating the scene when everyone runs out of the theatre. Oh, by the way, the opening scene for The Blob was shot in my town.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Friday, March 24, 2006
From My Window (Sad) and (Lonely) (?)
Just saw Josh Rouse at World Café Live. I have to say, it’s not exactly the best music to listen to with your beloved, but hey, the man is brilliant. (his backstory includes the dissolution of his 7 year marriage and his expatriation to Spain). It was just him, a guitar, and a big shimmery backdrop that often imitated a body of water in sunlight. Props.
His “1972” is the reason for the next album. Not this coming album, but the next. I had decided I had had enough with gloom and alterna-angst in my songs upon hearing the jubilation that is that record. Now, please please please, if you play keys or guitar in the Philly area, email me! If not, all of our songs will have “Cut Your Hair”-esque ooh ooh’s! Not that it is a bad thing, but such indieboy soul-stylings only go so far.
Now we are get ready for tonight. The components are in place, yet ¾ of the performing musicians are still 2.5 to 4.5 hours away (depending on Baltimore traffic). Barristers is going to be a lot of fun. We have much to celebrate… the least of which is that we are all alive and breathing. Come out and dance to the rock. As opposed to Smash Your Head on the Punk Rock, haven’t we already done that enough? Leave the head pain for the morning and enjoy some cocktails and conversation. Not to mention basketball. With any luck, George Mason will be taking on Wichita State while we are playing. Reminds me of watching homie Brice Woodall play whilst the beloved Red Sox put the Yankees on ice back in 2004.
I miss you Brice, take over the world already!
His “1972” is the reason for the next album. Not this coming album, but the next. I had decided I had had enough with gloom and alterna-angst in my songs upon hearing the jubilation that is that record. Now, please please please, if you play keys or guitar in the Philly area, email me! If not, all of our songs will have “Cut Your Hair”-esque ooh ooh’s! Not that it is a bad thing, but such indieboy soul-stylings only go so far.
Now we are get ready for tonight. The components are in place, yet ¾ of the performing musicians are still 2.5 to 4.5 hours away (depending on Baltimore traffic). Barristers is going to be a lot of fun. We have much to celebrate… the least of which is that we are all alive and breathing. Come out and dance to the rock. As opposed to Smash Your Head on the Punk Rock, haven’t we already done that enough? Leave the head pain for the morning and enjoy some cocktails and conversation. Not to mention basketball. With any luck, George Mason will be taking on Wichita State while we are playing. Reminds me of watching homie Brice Woodall play whilst the beloved Red Sox put the Yankees on ice back in 2004.
I miss you Brice, take over the world already!
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Paul is Dead
Man, backwards our songs are the ultimate emo material. Minus, the nasal vocal sounds of Sigur Ros-lite, the chord changes are very heart wrenching. I wonder if they sound like this to the casual listener, while played forwards.
You see, Tipper Gore wanted me to quality check the mixes so far to see if they were satanic reference free. So far, only “Candy Apple Red” sounds remotely satanic, with special guest Bruce Falconer’s reversed vocals sound like “ohhhh… murda” which could either be murder, or Murtha, as in the outspoken Pennsylvania proponent for Iraqi troop withdrawl.
But really, he is saying “I don’t know…”
You see, Tipper Gore wanted me to quality check the mixes so far to see if they were satanic reference free. So far, only “Candy Apple Red” sounds remotely satanic, with special guest Bruce Falconer’s reversed vocals sound like “ohhhh… murda” which could either be murder, or Murtha, as in the outspoken Pennsylvania proponent for Iraqi troop withdrawl.
But really, he is saying “I don’t know…”
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Barrister's Show Coming Up!
So we've got this show coming up, and really, I am scared of Philadelphia pulling us apart like some lo-fi zombie movie. Here's the deal, we don't have tattoos or piercings. More than that, when contemplating response to a band looking for another rock band to open for them, I wondered about our rockingness. I mean, we rock, but in a different way than a lot of bands rock. We wear black only 20% of the time, and mostly then because all of our ringer-t's are in the laundry and we're about to go to bed.
So here we are, on the cusp of our third Philly show. We'll be going on after NCAA basketball on a Friday night… how can we lose? Actually, if Pitt loses that night, Jim will not be playing with us. We are prepared to replace all of his drumbeats with midi-files.
We're excited to be playing Barristers. It's a new-ish neighborhood bar in the middle of swank Rittenhouse. You can wear what you'd wear to the swank at Barristers. BUT, you might not be able to wear what you'd wear to Barristers at the swank. That being said, come as you are. Sweatpants are awesome. Sorta.
If you have tats and piercings, mo' better…
Jim also plays drums in the venerable "Potato Famine," raucuous irish rockers, winners of the 2005 Irish Rhapsody Festival at Knitting Factory NYC, openers for Black 47 on St. Patty's day. They will be playing Friday and Saturday night at Staccato in Adams Morgan, DC. You need to see this band. I ran sound for them 2 years ago, and brother James O'Brien told me he loved me over the mic. Yeah, it's like that.
So here we are, on the cusp of our third Philly show. We'll be going on after NCAA basketball on a Friday night… how can we lose? Actually, if Pitt loses that night, Jim will not be playing with us. We are prepared to replace all of his drumbeats with midi-files.
We're excited to be playing Barristers. It's a new-ish neighborhood bar in the middle of swank Rittenhouse. You can wear what you'd wear to the swank at Barristers. BUT, you might not be able to wear what you'd wear to Barristers at the swank. That being said, come as you are. Sweatpants are awesome. Sorta.
If you have tats and piercings, mo' better…
Jim also plays drums in the venerable "Potato Famine," raucuous irish rockers, winners of the 2005 Irish Rhapsody Festival at Knitting Factory NYC, openers for Black 47 on St. Patty's day. They will be playing Friday and Saturday night at Staccato in Adams Morgan, DC. You need to see this band. I ran sound for them 2 years ago, and brother James O'Brien told me he loved me over the mic. Yeah, it's like that.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Time Machine
This post brought to you by Friendster, where two friends from way back contacted me:
I remember the first time I seriously went record shopping. And by this, I don’t mean scampering into my local Strawberries to buy ACDC, Van Halen and ogle 2 Live Crew as to think my mom wouldn’t go all Tipper Gore on it. I actually bought the third NWA tape though I don’t know how. I was turned on way more by the parental advisory sticker than by Easy E and MC Ren don’t matterin’ and just don’t bitin’.
It was around 1991, and my brother and I were in Harvard Square after a session at ZT Maximus (does that place still exist? Can our Mass. friends confirm this? It’s across from Alewife between the gigantor apartment buildings). There was some freak folk guy playing on the sidewalk, and we had just stopped into The Gap to say hello to a childhood neighbor who had it made. Well, we were 14 and she was 22 and almost out of college and free. That is having it made. Much more than trying to convince my friend Darrell Jermain to hit on Meg Gorman, whom I secretly thought should want me. Yeah, 14 going on Melrose.
Then we went on to HMV. It was as if a portal to my future had opened up. I remember looking for Nine Inch Nails, Jane’s Addiction, Souxie and the Banshees, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and a ton of other bands I had heard of through my sister. This was when I still held out on CDs, so it was strictly tapes for me. I looked hard as I could for McRad, but couldn’t find it anywhere. Mulling through a hardcore punk section was like experiencing a new gravity for me. One that I would never truly adapt to, even still. But no McRad.
I settled on two free cassingles: World Party: All Over The World and U2: Mysterious Ways… both of which became fodder for my initial forays into songwriting, taping over them with my own material.
I remember the first time I seriously went record shopping. And by this, I don’t mean scampering into my local Strawberries to buy ACDC, Van Halen and ogle 2 Live Crew as to think my mom wouldn’t go all Tipper Gore on it. I actually bought the third NWA tape though I don’t know how. I was turned on way more by the parental advisory sticker than by Easy E and MC Ren don’t matterin’ and just don’t bitin’.
It was around 1991, and my brother and I were in Harvard Square after a session at ZT Maximus (does that place still exist? Can our Mass. friends confirm this? It’s across from Alewife between the gigantor apartment buildings). There was some freak folk guy playing on the sidewalk, and we had just stopped into The Gap to say hello to a childhood neighbor who had it made. Well, we were 14 and she was 22 and almost out of college and free. That is having it made. Much more than trying to convince my friend Darrell Jermain to hit on Meg Gorman, whom I secretly thought should want me. Yeah, 14 going on Melrose.
Then we went on to HMV. It was as if a portal to my future had opened up. I remember looking for Nine Inch Nails, Jane’s Addiction, Souxie and the Banshees, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and a ton of other bands I had heard of through my sister. This was when I still held out on CDs, so it was strictly tapes for me. I looked hard as I could for McRad, but couldn’t find it anywhere. Mulling through a hardcore punk section was like experiencing a new gravity for me. One that I would never truly adapt to, even still. But no McRad.
I settled on two free cassingles: World Party: All Over The World and U2: Mysterious Ways… both of which became fodder for my initial forays into songwriting, taping over them with my own material.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Rock in the Chocolate City
Thank you everyone for coming out to our show the other night. We made some new friends, and hopefully in the process we didn't alienate the old ones! So many people! For those who stuck around for Zero Beat, thank you. We are not U2. We were not a U2 cover band. We just got the jones. Did you know that was the first time we played together in 18 months? Did you know "Until The End of the World" only existed as an idea on email until we played it together for the first time on stage? Wow.
James O'Brien is awesome. I potentially put him in an uncomfortable spot, what does he do? He says no worries, and that what I had said was nice. Note to self: when someone inadvertantly puts me in a strange spot, be as selfless as James. He could have really made me feel like more of a jackass than I already did.
Mixing went well with Nick. 2 down, 10 to go. Brice Woodall laughed when I told him a year ago we were nearing completion. His words: that's only 1/3 of the process! Mixing takes forever! Unfortunately we mixed one of the songs Brice was going to sing on, good thing is that he couldn't make it because he lives in Chicago now, and the tides have been kind to our brother-in-arms.
Check out Gorillaz b-side "Hong Kong," wow, what depth this collaboration has between Danger Mouse and Automator. Fictional bands can do anything! Might I suggest if you want to write songs or a band, don't think of it as you, but write for some character, how the band is "supposed to sound" not actually sounds. That's a trick I learned for the record MFA is mixing now. It is the cure for writers block.
pax,
mc/mfa
James O'Brien is awesome. I potentially put him in an uncomfortable spot, what does he do? He says no worries, and that what I had said was nice. Note to self: when someone inadvertantly puts me in a strange spot, be as selfless as James. He could have really made me feel like more of a jackass than I already did.
Mixing went well with Nick. 2 down, 10 to go. Brice Woodall laughed when I told him a year ago we were nearing completion. His words: that's only 1/3 of the process! Mixing takes forever! Unfortunately we mixed one of the songs Brice was going to sing on, good thing is that he couldn't make it because he lives in Chicago now, and the tides have been kind to our brother-in-arms.
Check out Gorillaz b-side "Hong Kong," wow, what depth this collaboration has between Danger Mouse and Automator. Fictional bands can do anything! Might I suggest if you want to write songs or a band, don't think of it as you, but write for some character, how the band is "supposed to sound" not actually sounds. That's a trick I learned for the record MFA is mixing now. It is the cure for writers block.
pax,
mc/mfa
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
DJ Kulsik
This morning I got 10 free downloads to the iTunes music store. Anyone who knows me knows I like my music written on plastic, encased in paper. I like having that thing to read or look at while listening. Call me "old fashioned" I like "albums." Remember them?
But, so, with a free download card I've decided to get tracks that I have lusted after since being able to discern the rock from the crap.
And, I have DJ Kulsik to thank for my love of Cheap Trick. I hadn't heard the song until I was 12 and at my sister's high school talent show. Dude was bellowing the song enough to know he really meant it, though he clearly was more a "baseball player" than a "singer." It caused me to check out the song in the form of Cheap Trick Live at Budokan. This then opened up a whole new world to me: rock songs and screaming Japanese girls. Wait, I think I already blogged about this.
God love 'em
But, so, with a free download card I've decided to get tracks that I have lusted after since being able to discern the rock from the crap.
And, I have DJ Kulsik to thank for my love of Cheap Trick. I hadn't heard the song until I was 12 and at my sister's high school talent show. Dude was bellowing the song enough to know he really meant it, though he clearly was more a "baseball player" than a "singer." It caused me to check out the song in the form of Cheap Trick Live at Budokan. This then opened up a whole new world to me: rock songs and screaming Japanese girls. Wait, I think I already blogged about this.
God love 'em
Thursday, January 26, 2006
New Sincerity
So I made a mix on my iTunes for songs that reminded me how wonderful my ladyfriend is. I've been totally inspired by listening to the Sound of Young America podcast. New Sincerity is awesome. It is awesomeness. There's a difference. And there is such thing as inspiration overload, more on that later.
I put the mix on random and I am instantly transported to my friend Terrence's friend's balcony in Seattle back in August 2002. You can see the modern art museum sculpture arm and hammer thingy from the balcony, and also watch as the street basically falls into the Puget Sound. In some other life I am meant to live there, no matter how trite it is. Anne stepped out to take in a run, and I stepped out to breathe in some salty, cool, humidified air, in such stark contrast to the swill we'd been breathing in DC since late June.
She was running up the hill from the sound as I stepped out. She looked up to find me smiling awkwardly, wondering who this beautiful girl was who had travelled with me across the country to see a friend I hadn't seen in years, whom she hadn't met.
The song was "New Slang" by The Shins and unfortunately, it being about the strains of love relationships, is excluded from our wedding first dance song shortlist. This song, in me, has survived the popular overload of "this song will change your life" statement by Natalie Portman in Garden State. It already had changed mine. I got chills when I saw that movie, no not because Natalie was compulsive liar of an epileptic, but because some of the events seemed lifted straight from my life. No, Anne does not have Epilepsy.
New Sincerity: it will change your life.
I put the mix on random and I am instantly transported to my friend Terrence's friend's balcony in Seattle back in August 2002. You can see the modern art museum sculpture arm and hammer thingy from the balcony, and also watch as the street basically falls into the Puget Sound. In some other life I am meant to live there, no matter how trite it is. Anne stepped out to take in a run, and I stepped out to breathe in some salty, cool, humidified air, in such stark contrast to the swill we'd been breathing in DC since late June.
She was running up the hill from the sound as I stepped out. She looked up to find me smiling awkwardly, wondering who this beautiful girl was who had travelled with me across the country to see a friend I hadn't seen in years, whom she hadn't met.
The song was "New Slang" by The Shins and unfortunately, it being about the strains of love relationships, is excluded from our wedding first dance song shortlist. This song, in me, has survived the popular overload of "this song will change your life" statement by Natalie Portman in Garden State. It already had changed mine. I got chills when I saw that movie, no not because Natalie was compulsive liar of an epileptic, but because some of the events seemed lifted straight from my life. No, Anne does not have Epilepsy.
New Sincerity: it will change your life.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Turin Brakes Blew Us Off…
The energy is bristling here in MFA world headquarters. As we speak, Philly is doing it's winter thing. And by that, I don't mean snow. I mean cold rain.
Regardless, plans are being laid for quite the rest of the winter. Our home away from home, Staccato, is closing it's doors after launching several bands into relative obscurity, like wind powered vessels passing in the night. And by that, I mean they gave us a place to play when all other clubs wanted us to sonically rhyme with "oogazi." Anyone who tries to tell you there is not a Fugazi shaped cloud over DC is full of it. That being said, that's a hell of a lot better than the other cloud… neoconservatism!
We're looking into shooting a documentary based around our February 3rd show. Old friends are working their way out of the woodwork to join us for what looks to be our most show yet. And that's including the night when Turin Brakes blew us off. James O'brien has treated so many bands so well over the past 4 years, come wish him well. They're not closing until March, but methinks me doth not book too much.
AND, on top of all of this, we can no longer trust our friend Bruce Falconer, as this night, he is celebrating his 30th birthday. Come
Regardless, plans are being laid for quite the rest of the winter. Our home away from home, Staccato, is closing it's doors after launching several bands into relative obscurity, like wind powered vessels passing in the night. And by that, I mean they gave us a place to play when all other clubs wanted us to sonically rhyme with "oogazi." Anyone who tries to tell you there is not a Fugazi shaped cloud over DC is full of it. That being said, that's a hell of a lot better than the other cloud… neoconservatism!
We're looking into shooting a documentary based around our February 3rd show. Old friends are working their way out of the woodwork to join us for what looks to be our most show yet. And that's including the night when Turin Brakes blew us off. James O'brien has treated so many bands so well over the past 4 years, come wish him well. They're not closing until March, but methinks me doth not book too much.
AND, on top of all of this, we can no longer trust our friend Bruce Falconer, as this night, he is celebrating his 30th birthday. Come
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Wind for the Sleeping People
Last night the wind hit Philadelphia with a vengeance. Rather than wait up and check the site report (yeah, I'm a dork) I laid my exhausted bones to bed. Flash forward to about 3am and it sounded like the Wizard of Oz outside. We live on the 7th floor, so any wind resistance comes from window paines and dormant window-unit air conditioners. It sounded like the rattling bones of some spent maritime antagonist trying to crawl through the window sealant.
Then the rains came. Walking around this morning was like being in spin cycle… wind coming from every direction to make sure you knew it was there and to push you back to bed. And lord knows you need it, since the same wind kept you up all night like a badly timed cup of coffee.
Started work on a cover of 'Every Day Is Fall' by brothers in arms Alcian Blue. While their version is a blitz of droning rock guitars, mine's going to be a somewhat different affair. Perhaps when I bring the band in on it, we can completely overhaul it. News: a good hook is hard to kill. I covered Eastern Homes' "I Feel Love" and that turned into a DJ Shadow-lite workout. Maybe I should take that to the band too.
Hope you are enjoying the Boardtape!
Then the rains came. Walking around this morning was like being in spin cycle… wind coming from every direction to make sure you knew it was there and to push you back to bed. And lord knows you need it, since the same wind kept you up all night like a badly timed cup of coffee.
Started work on a cover of 'Every Day Is Fall' by brothers in arms Alcian Blue. While their version is a blitz of droning rock guitars, mine's going to be a somewhat different affair. Perhaps when I bring the band in on it, we can completely overhaul it. News: a good hook is hard to kill. I covered Eastern Homes' "I Feel Love" and that turned into a DJ Shadow-lite workout. Maybe I should take that to the band too.
Hope you are enjoying the Boardtape!
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Boardtape!
Hey guys,
If you haven't already checked it out, Boardtape is online. It's hot. Seriously, I had to check our webhosting to see if it would handle the bandwidth. Yes it does, so I would like to heartily thank Dreamhost for being so badass.
If you are new to us, hey. We are a power pop/unpopular pop band from DC/Philly and we like you. As our drummer says, it's not who you are, but what you like that is important. Oh wait, or was that Rob Gordon? We live for the rock music, and tend to be opinionated on lots of matters pop culture related.
In other, more colloquial news: My Friend Autumn is going in to mix our record in a few weeks! Thanks to Nick Anderson, we are using Silver Sonya.
AND, we are playing Staccato Friday, February 3rd starting at 9pm. Come have some fun in the city.
much love,
mfa
If you haven't already checked it out, Boardtape is online. It's hot. Seriously, I had to check our webhosting to see if it would handle the bandwidth. Yes it does, so I would like to heartily thank Dreamhost for being so badass.
If you are new to us, hey. We are a power pop/unpopular pop band from DC/Philly and we like you. As our drummer says, it's not who you are, but what you like that is important. Oh wait, or was that Rob Gordon? We live for the rock music, and tend to be opinionated on lots of matters pop culture related.
In other, more colloquial news: My Friend Autumn is going in to mix our record in a few weeks! Thanks to Nick Anderson, we are using Silver Sonya.
AND, we are playing Staccato Friday, February 3rd starting at 9pm. Come have some fun in the city.
much love,
mfa
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Endorphins
I'm still riding high from our weekend recording sessions. On a couple of different fronts, it settled me down into the realization that music will not leave me. No matter how far I might run in some other career direction, I will always find myself at a guitar or a piano thinking "wow, that could work!"
There is a video of me in the third studio session for this record, watching Nick mix Philip's overdubs, where you can see me completely zoning out, pensive. I had been worried, thinking that somehow growing out of the ideal of a touring musician, that my desire would shift and this was my one shot to deliver an album, if even to my loved ones, that would serve as my statement.
Now I realize, as we wrap up work on this album, I will always be able to find energetic, likeminded people to work with. Even if it doesn't mean we can actually release the albums we record, we can document the moment in time. This past session was basically laying a template. You could feel the seed being planted… "we should do this again…" "next time, we should set up monitors" "I am now thinking of ways to be more mobile" this is the feeling of the beginning, not of the end.
It is my intention to document my life in sound. I'm always recording things like the wind outside our apartment window, as well as the chaos of religious zealots at a gay pride festival. When the record evolves into the finish product, we hope it has small touches of this as it unfolds. Not so much in the extremes that it presents, but in the presentation of a place in time, even if it is not THIS moment.
Always forward, never back? As best as you can, right, so long as you are as affected by nostalgia as I am!
There is a video of me in the third studio session for this record, watching Nick mix Philip's overdubs, where you can see me completely zoning out, pensive. I had been worried, thinking that somehow growing out of the ideal of a touring musician, that my desire would shift and this was my one shot to deliver an album, if even to my loved ones, that would serve as my statement.
Now I realize, as we wrap up work on this album, I will always be able to find energetic, likeminded people to work with. Even if it doesn't mean we can actually release the albums we record, we can document the moment in time. This past session was basically laying a template. You could feel the seed being planted… "we should do this again…" "next time, we should set up monitors" "I am now thinking of ways to be more mobile" this is the feeling of the beginning, not of the end.
It is my intention to document my life in sound. I'm always recording things like the wind outside our apartment window, as well as the chaos of religious zealots at a gay pride festival. When the record evolves into the finish product, we hope it has small touches of this as it unfolds. Not so much in the extremes that it presents, but in the presentation of a place in time, even if it is not THIS moment.
Always forward, never back? As best as you can, right, so long as you are as affected by nostalgia as I am!
Monday, November 21, 2005
Dig Dug and the Infinite Bosconian
Greetings Earthlings,
We are back from the coast, having completed 99.5% of the new album. Holy crap, it's going to be so good. In between bursts of conversation ranging from record fidelity, to the redemption of those little purple tickets you get from playing skee ball, we've laid down most of the overdubs/fixes.
Having a little business to take care of in Cape May when I arrived, I swung by a motel at the end of the beach. Having missed office hours, I'd have to go back the next morning. Since that end of Beach Drive is so quiet and dark, I chose to walk out on the beach to check out the stars and watch the waves break in the dark. Just as I start thinking about setting the vibe for the session and keeping it positive, a huge shooting star tore the sky open! Obligatory goose bumps (well, that is, on top of the other goose bumps because it was so effin' cold!) and so it went.
Let me tell you about the lay out. After arriving Friday night, we had a long conversation about anyting but setting up. Then, at 2am, we realized it would be a whole lot easier to set up in the foyer, and not have to lug Matt Ess's big bass amp (BFA) up to another level of the house. So, our control room was our live room. Nick holed himself up in a corner on a card table, and we ran lines all across the room.
Vocals were recorded on the front porch. At least, until it got too cold. I don't want to let the cat out of the bag too soon, as we are planning a big diary for the new web page. Oh yeah, there is no new web page yet, so sit tight.
The record has a name, and tentative plans are being made for the album artwork that includes invading Cape May in January or February, this time with all of our friends.
Hats off to Nick Anderson. Oh yeah, and my band. We turned a situation where there was absolutely no pressure to finish, into a situation where we just decided to finish rather than load all that gear up and have to drive Rte. 47 through South Jersey again! Go team!
Note: self-producing records away from studios is very, very rewarding. Get yourself a space and try it out.
We are back from the coast, having completed 99.5% of the new album. Holy crap, it's going to be so good. In between bursts of conversation ranging from record fidelity, to the redemption of those little purple tickets you get from playing skee ball, we've laid down most of the overdubs/fixes.
Having a little business to take care of in Cape May when I arrived, I swung by a motel at the end of the beach. Having missed office hours, I'd have to go back the next morning. Since that end of Beach Drive is so quiet and dark, I chose to walk out on the beach to check out the stars and watch the waves break in the dark. Just as I start thinking about setting the vibe for the session and keeping it positive, a huge shooting star tore the sky open! Obligatory goose bumps (well, that is, on top of the other goose bumps because it was so effin' cold!) and so it went.
Let me tell you about the lay out. After arriving Friday night, we had a long conversation about anyting but setting up. Then, at 2am, we realized it would be a whole lot easier to set up in the foyer, and not have to lug Matt Ess's big bass amp (BFA) up to another level of the house. So, our control room was our live room. Nick holed himself up in a corner on a card table, and we ran lines all across the room.
Vocals were recorded on the front porch. At least, until it got too cold. I don't want to let the cat out of the bag too soon, as we are planning a big diary for the new web page. Oh yeah, there is no new web page yet, so sit tight.
The record has a name, and tentative plans are being made for the album artwork that includes invading Cape May in January or February, this time with all of our friends.
Hats off to Nick Anderson. Oh yeah, and my band. We turned a situation where there was absolutely no pressure to finish, into a situation where we just decided to finish rather than load all that gear up and have to drive Rte. 47 through South Jersey again! Go team!
Note: self-producing records away from studios is very, very rewarding. Get yourself a space and try it out.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Record-a-thon!
Hey guys,
Sorry for the lag. "Real life is so hard" sayeth Dave Grohl. Actually, since last we talked, 2/3 of us went to a late late night Foo Fighters show at the 930 club. 1/3 of us had to be back in Philly in the morning for work. MVP goes to my beautiful fiancee who drove. You can only imagine the confused look on her face upon waking up at 2am at our friends' house, realizing I wanted to get on the road!
The real news is we are convening this weekend for finish our album! It's been in the works for 18 months now, we've thought it, overthought it, underthought it, and now it's just about right. Nick Anderson is still at the helm, only this time we are assembling in sleepy, winterized Cape May, NJ at a beach house to handle the overdubs and a lion share of the lead vocals. I've been downing 'Emergen'C' packets like mad to stay healthy this week! Oh yeah, and listening to a lot of stuff that has inspired me in the writing of the record. Do they make a mellotron cookbook, like they did with the moog? That would rule, or suck, depending on which sound is used. That would be inspirational, oh yeah, and would give us sample to steal. ha. ha.
hats off to Paul Binghay for technical support in the MFA's venture into midi/sample territory!
Sorry for the lag. "Real life is so hard" sayeth Dave Grohl. Actually, since last we talked, 2/3 of us went to a late late night Foo Fighters show at the 930 club. 1/3 of us had to be back in Philly in the morning for work. MVP goes to my beautiful fiancee who drove. You can only imagine the confused look on her face upon waking up at 2am at our friends' house, realizing I wanted to get on the road!
The real news is we are convening this weekend for finish our album! It's been in the works for 18 months now, we've thought it, overthought it, underthought it, and now it's just about right. Nick Anderson is still at the helm, only this time we are assembling in sleepy, winterized Cape May, NJ at a beach house to handle the overdubs and a lion share of the lead vocals. I've been downing 'Emergen'C' packets like mad to stay healthy this week! Oh yeah, and listening to a lot of stuff that has inspired me in the writing of the record. Do they make a mellotron cookbook, like they did with the moog? That would rule, or suck, depending on which sound is used. That would be inspirational, oh yeah, and would give us sample to steal. ha. ha.
hats off to Paul Binghay for technical support in the MFA's venture into midi/sample territory!
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Who Are The People In Your Neighborhood?
So yesterday I plugged in our wireless. More wireless=more blogging. Before I had to crouch over the computer while it was plugged in with the ethernet cable, now the computer is getting closer and closer to sitting on its resting place atop my recording workstation. So, easier workstation use= more workstation use? Hope so!
Today we happen upon an interesting sight here in Philly. Our neighborhood has taken great strides toward cleaning up itself. This is the infamous block where Mumia Abu-Jamal's life changed forever in 1981 (flashback: Free Mumia swept the hip hop world in 1995, a cab driver accused of murdering a cop, and is an interesting discourse in urban blight: cabbie vs. prostitute/police informant vs. the justice system). I'm not going to even postulate on that. It's severely convoluted, and reeks of corruption in several levels.
So our neighborhood, the gayborhood as it is called, is having what is called "Out Festival." There are games, music, vendors and people everywhere. Below our window I am listening to the megaphone-amplified prostylized hate stylings of a religious group here to protest. If it is God's command to save one another, I can think of fewer more effective methods than screaming how much someone thinks someone will to go to hell. The din of plastic whistles is everywhere, it seems someone has supplied the festival goers with the hate crime equivalent of a rape whistle.
It's sad that "live and let live" does not exist. If gays were not in my neighborhood, I doubt I would be able to live here. Where other parts of the city have fallen into abject decay, our neighborhood keeps a delicate balance. We have boutiques, antique shops, gelato and coffee, independent restaurants, and nightclubs, but we also have a some drugs, some prostitution, some filth. Amid the filth, there is positivity. Amid the positivity, there is negativity. It is confounding to see what some people turn the love of their god into. How much love is in their hate? How much hate is there in their love?
Today we happen upon an interesting sight here in Philly. Our neighborhood has taken great strides toward cleaning up itself. This is the infamous block where Mumia Abu-Jamal's life changed forever in 1981 (flashback: Free Mumia swept the hip hop world in 1995, a cab driver accused of murdering a cop, and is an interesting discourse in urban blight: cabbie vs. prostitute/police informant vs. the justice system). I'm not going to even postulate on that. It's severely convoluted, and reeks of corruption in several levels.
So our neighborhood, the gayborhood as it is called, is having what is called "Out Festival." There are games, music, vendors and people everywhere. Below our window I am listening to the megaphone-amplified prostylized hate stylings of a religious group here to protest. If it is God's command to save one another, I can think of fewer more effective methods than screaming how much someone thinks someone will to go to hell. The din of plastic whistles is everywhere, it seems someone has supplied the festival goers with the hate crime equivalent of a rape whistle.
It's sad that "live and let live" does not exist. If gays were not in my neighborhood, I doubt I would be able to live here. Where other parts of the city have fallen into abject decay, our neighborhood keeps a delicate balance. We have boutiques, antique shops, gelato and coffee, independent restaurants, and nightclubs, but we also have a some drugs, some prostitution, some filth. Amid the filth, there is positivity. Amid the positivity, there is negativity. It is confounding to see what some people turn the love of their god into. How much love is in their hate? How much hate is there in their love?
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Verbage
The coffee spot was found today. I mean, knowing it was there but not going doesn't count. Somehow it seems I've been reluctant because I knew it would be just like Common Grounds. And in knowing it was like Common Grounds, I didn't want to face the reality that every coffee shop in the world is the same, it's the people that make them different. My reluctance is completely built off of the reality that there would be no Jakuta. There would be no Jim. There would be no open mic nite to get from Laura, which would then pay off the first MFA studio session.
It's hard, you realize you are a creature of habit, and don't truly appreciate that until you have a whole new world of habit to get to know. New places. New people. Same coffee. Perhaps my attempt to once and for all quit the bean is an attempt to delay the obvious. Arlington will not be replaced, nor recreated. That was a time and a place, and now I am in a completely separate time and place. It's this duality that has kept me going for the past 3 years, and now it's spun me a bit too hard and I seek stability. I know, stability is *so* not indie rock. But then again, neither am I!
So now I have the place and I realize I've been so slouching as a writer. I've been concentrating on specific melodies and writing directly for songs… not pushing my linguistic abilities by putting pen to paper and seeing if I can damn well puncture the writing surface.
This reminds me of my first major transition in life, after college, when these ridiculously arty titles started coming to me. "Stranger with a Camera" "Entrance to the Exit" "Sailing Away from 1972." Sit tight, let's see what other Mingus-lite titles I can come up with. Moreover, bring on the floral verse. There is nothing in the world like being verbose…
It's hard, you realize you are a creature of habit, and don't truly appreciate that until you have a whole new world of habit to get to know. New places. New people. Same coffee. Perhaps my attempt to once and for all quit the bean is an attempt to delay the obvious. Arlington will not be replaced, nor recreated. That was a time and a place, and now I am in a completely separate time and place. It's this duality that has kept me going for the past 3 years, and now it's spun me a bit too hard and I seek stability. I know, stability is *so* not indie rock. But then again, neither am I!
So now I have the place and I realize I've been so slouching as a writer. I've been concentrating on specific melodies and writing directly for songs… not pushing my linguistic abilities by putting pen to paper and seeing if I can damn well puncture the writing surface.
This reminds me of my first major transition in life, after college, when these ridiculously arty titles started coming to me. "Stranger with a Camera" "Entrance to the Exit" "Sailing Away from 1972." Sit tight, let's see what other Mingus-lite titles I can come up with. Moreover, bring on the floral verse. There is nothing in the world like being verbose…
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Reset Button
I know in this time of scarce communication and cards shuffling it is no time to be petty. But, there is a time to be petty.
That time is now.
I have attempted to hit the reset button on my head. My melon was sporting my well worn shag since, ugh, 2003(?) and in an attempt to get away from it, I had my hair cut for the first time in two years by someone other than my regular.
Results? The wonderful haircuttist decided my part started on the other side of my head, thus creating the illusion of a receding hairline when parted correctly.
Next time to the barber, I was accosted by a flow-bee for the first time in my life. (you might remember such a contraption from the Wayne's World movie "it sucks and cuts... well, you can say it really does suck")
Worst. haircut. ever.
This latest time, my first in my new city, I found an old-school barber around the corner in my neighborhood, in the basement of a high rise apartment building. My requirement? Cut as short as you can while keeping it a little long. Here we go. Somehow the top of my head was forgotten on the right side giving me a "combover junior" which is obviously longer than any other piece of hair on my head!
Stopping short of shaving my own head to hit reset (which I have done twice in my life) I am now headed to the bathroom with a pair of scissors to correct the combover on my own.
Now I remember why I went shaggy for as long as I did.
Going to see the Lemonheads tomorrow night at the TLA. My inner 15 year old is beside itself. Please your inner 15 year old now and again. Be the tiger. Grrr, baby.
That time is now.
I have attempted to hit the reset button on my head. My melon was sporting my well worn shag since, ugh, 2003(?) and in an attempt to get away from it, I had my hair cut for the first time in two years by someone other than my regular.
Results? The wonderful haircuttist decided my part started on the other side of my head, thus creating the illusion of a receding hairline when parted correctly.
Next time to the barber, I was accosted by a flow-bee for the first time in my life. (you might remember such a contraption from the Wayne's World movie "it sucks and cuts... well, you can say it really does suck")
Worst. haircut. ever.
This latest time, my first in my new city, I found an old-school barber around the corner in my neighborhood, in the basement of a high rise apartment building. My requirement? Cut as short as you can while keeping it a little long. Here we go. Somehow the top of my head was forgotten on the right side giving me a "combover junior" which is obviously longer than any other piece of hair on my head!
Stopping short of shaving my own head to hit reset (which I have done twice in my life) I am now headed to the bathroom with a pair of scissors to correct the combover on my own.
Now I remember why I went shaggy for as long as I did.
Going to see the Lemonheads tomorrow night at the TLA. My inner 15 year old is beside itself. Please your inner 15 year old now and again. Be the tiger. Grrr, baby.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
It Must Be Summer…
What a difference a few days make. Today in the City of Brotherly Love, the wind blows and I actually cool off. Just Saturday, I was driving down to Cape May with all of the windows off my Jeep and I swear, I was the egg cooking on the sidewalk. Not accustomed to shore traffic, I found myself stuck in a bottleneck getting onto the Garden State Parkway from the Atlantic City Expressway. Secretly my hope was that every car on the road was going to the Borgata for the Stevie Wonder show, but no dice. They happened to be going the direction I was, yet my destination was past theirs.
Last week I had a party for myself. I, Matt Cummins of the band My Friend Autumn know one of the Dove girls. Okay, not anymore, but thumbing through a People Magazine bought for my beloved (Jen’s still not over Brad, Angelina really digs Ethiopia and Mohawks, Bennifer’s Garner is showing), I came across the fab or flab article about the Dove girls that had little bios. Julie Arko? Charlotte, North Carolina? Ha! She used to live in my neighborhood. Or I in hers, as I didn’t stick around Charlotte long enough to really claim any portion of it as my own.
I refuse to dish dirt, and besides, she is a spectacular example of reality in this otherwise Kate Moss-free world. Anyone who is not a celebrity that would wear their skivvies in front of a national audience gets an A+ in my book. Celebs get a B, because that’s their job… distract us with their pearly whites and flawless abdominal sections.
The first time I saw a Dove ad was on a bus stop shelter steps from Staccato in DC. Which brings me to the obligatory self-promotion. MFA will be appearing this Saturday Night at Staccato (18th and U) with our friends Private Eleanor and Middle Distance Runner. PE at 9. MFA at 10:30, MDR at midnite.
xoxoxoxoxoxo,
mfa
Last week I had a party for myself. I, Matt Cummins of the band My Friend Autumn know one of the Dove girls. Okay, not anymore, but thumbing through a People Magazine bought for my beloved (Jen’s still not over Brad, Angelina really digs Ethiopia and Mohawks, Bennifer’s Garner is showing), I came across the fab or flab article about the Dove girls that had little bios. Julie Arko? Charlotte, North Carolina? Ha! She used to live in my neighborhood. Or I in hers, as I didn’t stick around Charlotte long enough to really claim any portion of it as my own.
I refuse to dish dirt, and besides, she is a spectacular example of reality in this otherwise Kate Moss-free world. Anyone who is not a celebrity that would wear their skivvies in front of a national audience gets an A+ in my book. Celebs get a B, because that’s their job… distract us with their pearly whites and flawless abdominal sections.
The first time I saw a Dove ad was on a bus stop shelter steps from Staccato in DC. Which brings me to the obligatory self-promotion. MFA will be appearing this Saturday Night at Staccato (18th and U) with our friends Private Eleanor and Middle Distance Runner. PE at 9. MFA at 10:30, MDR at midnite.
xoxoxoxoxoxo,
mfa
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Things That I Will Keep
Made a big leap in my late-late-late spring cleaning yesterday. Seems somehow in my last year as a vagabond, and the two moves that preceded it, I’ve been moving around boxes full of junk. Such boxes contain things I had predicted to be of sentimental value previously, but have since been relegated to “eBay?” status.
Surviving the cut: two Pearl Jam fan club 7” singles from ’92 and ’93, a Dave Matthews Band commemorative new years’ eve foam Frisbee thing from ‘95. These scream “eBay me later” as I do not recall ever being on the Pearl Jam fan club, but I do recall discovering Soul Coughing at said DMB show.
Not surviving the cut: many analog cassette tapes. We’re talking failed mix tapes for friends/loves/car rides, live shows for bands I used to dig in college, 3/8 of Van Halen’s back catalog (both with and without David Lee Roth) as incentive to buy the records on CD as I have long planned, handfuls of tapes I have no use for: Living Colour, Aerosmith (when they were druggy and hungry still!), Buddy Holly, Simon and Garfunkel, John Sebastian.
Amongst the rubble of plastic and ribbon I have found rehearsal tapes for Zero Beat, my old band, as well as hours of song snippets and demos while divining song after song. This is why you have to hang on to these boxes as long as possible. It is up to you to save your past from your future. There just comes a time when you know it’s cool to let go of that tape you made for that girl and didn’t give it to her. I mean, she is long out of your life for the better and you have far more important things to do: sip your makeshift martini and start digitizing the few live songs from Agents of Good Roots you want to keep… that and the recorded sounds of my brother and his friends skateboarding circa age 13 on the flip side of my dubbed Beach Boys tape.
Surviving the cut: two Pearl Jam fan club 7” singles from ’92 and ’93, a Dave Matthews Band commemorative new years’ eve foam Frisbee thing from ‘95. These scream “eBay me later” as I do not recall ever being on the Pearl Jam fan club, but I do recall discovering Soul Coughing at said DMB show.
Not surviving the cut: many analog cassette tapes. We’re talking failed mix tapes for friends/loves/car rides, live shows for bands I used to dig in college, 3/8 of Van Halen’s back catalog (both with and without David Lee Roth) as incentive to buy the records on CD as I have long planned, handfuls of tapes I have no use for: Living Colour, Aerosmith (when they were druggy and hungry still!), Buddy Holly, Simon and Garfunkel, John Sebastian.
Amongst the rubble of plastic and ribbon I have found rehearsal tapes for Zero Beat, my old band, as well as hours of song snippets and demos while divining song after song. This is why you have to hang on to these boxes as long as possible. It is up to you to save your past from your future. There just comes a time when you know it’s cool to let go of that tape you made for that girl and didn’t give it to her. I mean, she is long out of your life for the better and you have far more important things to do: sip your makeshift martini and start digitizing the few live songs from Agents of Good Roots you want to keep… that and the recorded sounds of my brother and his friends skateboarding circa age 13 on the flip side of my dubbed Beach Boys tape.
Monday, August 01, 2005
A Story with a Moral
A wise man once told me a very useful parable “You steal a bike… you get hit by a truck, that’s just the way it works.” Never mind the fact that this guy had just rejoined his group after going to rehab, after a nasty heroin addiction, after pawning a majority of his bands’ equipment to score.
Not that I wish any acute, specific harm be done, as everyone has a mama somewhere; but please know, dear thief, the bike is broken and if you do not get the rear fork repaired immediately a) the sidewall of the back tire WILL blow and b) the repair will likely cost as much as the bike did. I wish the latter for you, not the former, as the former will find you a truck that is surely not as forgiving as I am.
You see, we were in the process of moving and 2/3 of the moving party saw you ride away. They were unable to confirm exactly how far you got before you realized the back tire was aggressively rubbing the frame AND the brake pad (which as you should note, will need replacing very, very soon).
Best of luck, may your curb hopping days be many and filled with safety.
Not that I wish any acute, specific harm be done, as everyone has a mama somewhere; but please know, dear thief, the bike is broken and if you do not get the rear fork repaired immediately a) the sidewall of the back tire WILL blow and b) the repair will likely cost as much as the bike did. I wish the latter for you, not the former, as the former will find you a truck that is surely not as forgiving as I am.
You see, we were in the process of moving and 2/3 of the moving party saw you ride away. They were unable to confirm exactly how far you got before you realized the back tire was aggressively rubbing the frame AND the brake pad (which as you should note, will need replacing very, very soon).
Best of luck, may your curb hopping days be many and filled with safety.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
