Raiders of the Lost Ark. Reneacted in 30 seconds. By Bunnies.
(ht: AVCLUB US / ken wilson)
O Great Pentatonic Scale, is there nothing you cannot do?
So it should be pretty obvious to all of you by now, that I rarely (OK, never) contribute anything remotely spiritual to this blogg. Typically, my posts have something (or everything) to do with sh*tty theme parks, new cars, and the band TOOL. I’m pretty sure Jesus doesn’t really care about my opinions on any of those things, and I’m nearly positive none of you do, either.
But that’s all about to change…
I give you: The Armor Of God Pajamas.

That’s right, heathens. For only $39.95, your child (or myself, in this case) will sleep soundly knowing that all evil shall be repelled by what is presumably 100% polyester pajamas, featuring “The Breastplate of Righteousness, and the Belt of Truth”. I’m assuming these are machine washable. In addition to thwarting the unwanted advances of the Devil, I certainly hope they resist the occasional pee stain, too.
Apparently, these were inspired by a mother “to give her daughter a safe and secure feeling in the dark”. That’s right, the dark. Because regardless of how socially retarded the designer of this garment may be, she understands that if her child is seen wearing these PJ’s in daylight, she will be systematically tortured by every bully within a 45-mile radius.
If someone buys these for me, I agree to wear them for a full 48 hours to test the evil-repelling qualities. I’m dead serious.
Oh snap! It comes with a coloring book!
Here’s the update on the ol’ mental illness: Still depressed. Sucks.
I switched therapists and I’m switching meds tomorrow. I’ve taken off of work and have filed for disability at my therpist’s urging, since I couldn’t meet my deadlines and the work I turned in late was crap. Anytime the stuff you’ve edited has to be edited, you know you’re in trouble.
The reason I haven’t posted lately (besides not wanting to be a wet blanket on all the sweet awesomeness of The Dailies…go team!) is that words are suddenly foreign to me. Right now, expressing myself through the written word is like thinking in ancient Hebrew, translating to modern Hungarian and then typing on a Chinese keyboard (I’m guessing). It took me 5 hours to write 180 words for a book review. Meh.
The good news is, my new therapist (Corey, I’m in the club, too…does this mean I get a free Hello Kitty T-shirt with “Effed-Up” on the back?) is kicking my ass, in a good way. Last week he said, “I don’t think you know who you are.” It totally pissed me off, but I think he’s right. It’s weird to have a self-perception (and occasional outward projection) of a highly self-actualized woman who knows what she’s about, and then to realize that it’s a crock of poo. I’m still chewing that one over. If I’m not who I thought I was, then who the hell am I? Here’s hoping I’ll find out, one $25 copay at a time.
One thing I’m trying to square right now is the realization that I don’t get mad. (I know this will come as a surprise to some of you who have felt the cozy heat of my ire.) That is, I get angry, but only about external stuff: injustice, prejudice, the screwed-up Church, the President, red light cameras, the foster care system, and salads with raw onions. I don’t get mad at personal stuff: personal insult, personal injury, personal abuse. (Not that I suffer a lot of it, but when it happens I tend to assume it’s my problem, not the other person’s.) Corey, when I read your comment about blaming others for your issues, my thought was “Eureka! That’s what I need: someone besides myself to blame for the whole frickin’ rotten thing!” I guess I’m two or three steps back on the Neurosis Path to Enlightenment: I haven’t even made it to the point where I blame everyone else and then can grow from there. Instead, I cut my own legs out from under me by beating myself up over every little thing so I become paralyzed by terror that I’ll screw up because I’m so entirely lame. The irony is, I know self-hatred is dumb, so I hate myself for indulging in it. Again I say: Meh.
I SO appreciate all the support and encouragement from you kids. I know I am loved and valued — even if I don’t get right now why anyone would bother — and I’m not going anywhere. I really want to figure this thing out…I don’t want to bury it and have nothing to show for it in the end. (Thanks, Fred Buechner.)
Over the weekend, Ash and I saw Little Miss Sunshine (which I highly, highly recommend). Toward the end of the film, the character played by Steve Carell — “the foremost Proust scholar in the country” — tells his nephew about how Proust looked back over his life and judged that it was the times of pain that were of ultimate value, not the times of happiness, because it was through the pain that he learned the most. I’m not sure I’m willing to go that far yet (I dig happiness), but I pray this dark time yields lessons and growth of character that I will ultimately value, and that will be of Ultimate Value to the One who matters most.
Ladies and Gentlemen, The Academy of Indie Recording Arts and Sciences, Burbank Division, is proud to announce the winners of this year’s “Billy Preston Awards for Excellence In Custom Recording”. Our congratulations to all of the nominees, and remember, even if you didn’t win, it’s an honor just to be nominated.
The award for Best Opening Lyric goes to “We flipped the switch” from the song Unplug. It drops right with the band, and drags you into the tune. Like, immediately.
The award for Heroic Accommodation of the Recording Process by a Musician goes to Rosy. Midway through the first day, Chris pulled Rosy into the control room to listen to a serious problem with the drum sound – the snare microphone was picking up a ton of hi-hat. This was going to be a problem in the mix, because it meant that you couldn’t raise the level of the snare without also raising the volume of the hat. The solution? They raised up the hi-hat stand by about 6 inches, to get more distance between the snare and the hat. This is a heroic sort of accommodation by a drummer – everything they do when they play the drums is about repetitive mechanics, and those mechanics are aimed at fixed positions. The snare always goes here, the ride always goes here, the hi hat always goes here. Changing one of those things has the potential to throw the whole groove seriously out of whack. It would be the equivalent of saying to a keyboardist, “Look, to make this thing work, we’re going to raise all of the black keys by 2 inches – other than that, everything should be kosher.” The result of the change was a massive drum sound with great isolation, and Rosy managed to still make the groove grind. Very pro.
The Exxon-Valdez Award for Mid-course Correction goes to Chad for the song As I Am. On Friday, Corey started tracking this song as an acoustic guitar piece. There were two problems with this: the first is that this was actually a piano song. When we first heard it, it was on piano, Chad has performed it a half-dozen times on piano, the chords and arrangement were written on piano. It just soars on piano. So, of course, Corey was doing his best (which is a very, very good best) to wrestle the piece to the ground on acoustic guitar, and it just wasn’t working. The second problem was this – the piece breathes in and out, the tempo pushes and pulls, and there are pauses and starts that all have to feel right. Chad had all of the details of how this should go locked away in his head, with no good way to communicate all of it to Corey, or anyone else. The result was a frustrating process, and when they finally put the cap on it Friday evening, we all sort of shrugged and said, “Good enough”. You have to realize how defeated that feeling was. On every other song, when we finished, the whole band vibe was, “Yes! Dude – that’s a song!” For us to finish with a “good enough” was a massive failure. So, Saturday morning, Chad walked in and said, “Here’s the deal – we’re going to redo the tune, it’s going to be a piano song, and I’m going to play the piano part.” And we all said, “Took you long enough.” You’ll get to hear the final product on the record. Good call, Chad.
The “Almost Famous” Award for Best Homage to 70’s Anthem Rock goes to Wake Us, which would have been at home on any Queen record. 1st Runner-Up goes to Everything Must Go for it’s copious borrowing of Led Zepplin-esque guitar lines. The only reason it didn’t win is because 6/8 is a better time signature for anthem rock.
Special Recognition in the category of The Right Gear is The Right Gear goes to Rob Strickland’s Alembic Bass. No frontin’ on the P Bass, but man, you can really hear what the extra 2k buys.
As part of our on-going effort to reach out to our fundamentalist brethren, this year features a new award, Best Use of Orthodox Theology in a Song That Still Manages to Be Relevant. It goes, unequivocally, to As I Am, which makes it a surprise triple-category winner: in addition to this award, and the afore-mentioned “Exxon-Valdez” award, it also takes home The Steven Curtis Chapman “I Will Be There” Award for Song You Will Hear At Every Wedding For The Next 20 Years. This award comes with a cash prize.
The award for Song That Fell Into Place So Quickly We Almost Feel Guilty For Taking Your Money To Play It, But We’ll Get Over It And Cash The Check Anyway goes to Run. Seriously. This tune could not have gone down more easily. From the first time we heard the demo, Corey and I just looked at each other and said, “Oh dude, I know how to do this.” It makes me think that, on the next record, Chad should wait to let us hear each demo 20 minutes before we go to push record on the tune.
The Elizabeth Taylor Award For Prima-Donna Hissy Fit Over An Easily Fixable Part goes to Michael Lee, for his temper tantrum over his own inability to play 8th notes in time on Loved. Dude, get over yourself. Stick’s just gonna find the best 4 bar phrase and loop it anyway.
We are proud to announce that the winner of this year’s MTV2 “Headbanger’s Ball” Award for Extreme Rock is Corey Witt for his work on Everything Must Go. Two clips from that piece were submitted to the judges for consideration – the arena rock lead line from the chorus, and the “If you shut your eyes and listen, Dan Huff sounds like Lenny Kravitz looks” solo from the last pre-chorus. Chad, what’s the official band position on leather pants?
Every year, the judges try to make their best guess as to which songs will be commercially successful. We are proud to announce that our pick for this year’s Point of Grace Memorial Award for Direct to Radio Release is the song God Of My Future. This song also picks up the coveted DC Talk “Between You And Me” Fan Outrage Award For Song That Makes People Buy The Record, Then They Realize That The Record Sounds Nothing Like The Single. This song comes with a cash prize, which must be returned within 30 days for store credit only.
As always, the award for Best B3 Sample That Was Left On The Final Track, Because We Ran Out Of Time with the Real B3 will not be publicly announced, but you are more than welcome to take your best guess.
It gives us all great pleasure to present Chris Steffen with the FXpansion BFD Sample Replacer Empty Threat Award. There is a piece of software called BFD that is essentially a drum sampler. It sounds amazing, and in a great little coincidence, all of the samples were recorded at El Dorado, where we tracked the record. We spoke very highly of the flexibility and accuracy of the sampler, which Chris took as something of a challenge. He wanted to make sure that we had no reason to replace any of his drum sounds with samples from the software, so he proceeded to do his best imitation of a drum mic’ing savant for the entire week. The result was a sound that was beefy, articulated, deep, and punchy, which are words that we all throw around because language has no good words for sound. Basically, he rocked our socks off. Chris wins all technical awards for this record. He was smoking. Get it? (hint: he smokes (i.e. cigarettes)).
The “Rookie Of The Year” Most Improved Award goes to Chad Reisser, who at the beginning of the week, did a very convincing imitation of a bass player, and by the end of the week, was an actual bass player. Of course, I would hesitate to call him for actual gigs until he gets his rig up to a pro level. And by that I mean, “buys an Alembic bass that plays like Rob’s”.
Erica Reisser wins the coveted Terminator 2 Super Morphing Vocal Performance. Listen to Loved. Then listen to Wake Us. It’s the same person, I swear.
In order to avoid any appearance of conflict of interest, I recused myself from the voting for the next award. Nonetheless, the committee choose to award The Michael Lee “Fake It ‘Til You Make It” Award to … Michael Lee. I have a dirty little confession to make. I am not a B3 player. I love the whirly dervish in all of her majestic beauty, I know the history, the lore, I’m a devotee of the mythos, and Lord knows I’ve played tons of synth B3, B3 virtual instruments, modeled reissues, and all manner of imitations. My time behind the wheel of the Queen herself though has been, shall we say, limited. Almost non-existent. This caused me some unspoken anxiety as the week progressed, and it became apparent that the week was going to finish up with an extended 4 hour session of me sitting at the console of the mighty B, going from tune to tune, playing all of the parts, with the rest of the band sitting in the control room paying very close attention to what I was laying down. I even had a kid on the line waiting by the phone who is an actual B3 player, in case I had to tap out and let him cover the parts. However, the Michael Lee Career Motto has always been “fake it ‘til you make it”. By the time the Saturday tracking session ended, I was in my element. Everything settled into place. The thing I thought I could do, but had never really done (at least not under that kind of pressure), I ended up delivering on. I am now a B3 player. I survived the gauntlet. Corey, I’m going to need some new business cards.
Finally, the award committee thought it would be appropriate to create a new category this year, for Best Imitation of a Second Engineer by an Intern. It was a tight race, but we finally decided to give the award to Sterling. I would highly recommend that Sterling log on here and give some love to the engineering school that he’s going to right now, because they set him up to win. He has that rarest, and most useful of traits in a person working their way into this industry – a teachable attitude. He noticed that Chris was using Empirical Labs Distressors to compress a wide range of different signals, and didn’t know a lot about them. On his break, he grabbed the manual, and setup his own little study hall. He was taking down notes on the B3 mic’ing that Christ had setup, and couldn’t remember the name of the room mics that were hoisted up in the corner, so he asked me if I knew (AKG C12s). It was more important to him to learn the answer than to risk being embarrassed by not knowing the answer. Dude. All I can say is hang on to that. It will take you very, very far. Also, Chris knows his stuff. You should get to know his stuff.
Congratulations to all of the winners, and thanks to the Academy for their ongoing support of Indie Custom Recording in Burbank. As Billy Preston always says, “So long, and thanks for all the memories.”
The drums, guitars, pianos, synths, and bass have all been recorded, and been packed back into their cases. It was like packing up old friends. It was truly bittersweet. We took solace in the fact that they were being packed up to make way for the final piece of this little puzzle to be inserted.
The mighty B3. My grandmother gave it to me before she died, and through a set of circumstances too good to pass up, we’ve decided to bring it down here. It’s gonna stay here for awhile, doing what it was built to do. Rob, the studio owner is giving all kinds of TLC, and I am so excited that it will be here.
Chris has rigged it with nine mics. Nine. Two close to capture the stereo effect of the rotating horn. One at the bottom to get the bass speaker. Two room mics. One mono close room mic. The freaky “bullet” mic that’s sat above the drumkit all week. There’s a miniature amp in the closet with a 57 on it for a lofi thing.
It’s huge.
The Leslie cabinet vibrates and gurgles even when the organ is not playing. It’s alive. It breathes and growls. In the mix, it blends and swirls around the electric guitars in a churning dance of distortion and tone.
This is a rock and roll record. No questions… no apologies. It’s an old school rock record, too. It’s the sound of good musicians playing in a good room with the best gear in the world. It’s not quantized. It’s not polite. It’s not pop. It’s rock and roll. I have been listening to the tracks as Mike puts the parts down thinking to myself… “I cannot believe this is our record.”
All week long, we have been referring to this place as “The Cocoon.” It’s an apt description. The outside world has been suspended for six precious days. Phone calls are ignored, children visit grandparents, other duties put on the backburner. The real world will come crashing down upon us monday morning, but not tonight. Tonight we tell the world to spin without us, because it’s not quite time to leave the cocoon. Tonight a mighty B3 is getting it’s first serious workout in fifty years, and it’s a doozy.
Tonight we make art. Tomorrow, or the next day… or maybe about four weeks from now, we share with you all what we have become. The metamorphosis has taken place. Time to check the wingspan.
You better warm up those hard drives, Stickman, because we’re bringing some heat up there.
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