Crazy Sounds and the Big Picture

Last night we tracked some accordion courtesy of Mr. Jake Bush, a member of both Pesky J. Nixon and the Baker Thomas Band. (I encourage you to check out their music!) During the session we got some really crazy accordion loops that created quite an effect: cavernous echoing, spooky undulations, and other sonic adventures that may or may not end up in the final mix. It got me to thinking about how this record is different from Seven Years Now, and what I'm actually doing with music. The Big Picture. I will confess right away I don't know what the Big Picture is, exactly. (It might not even exist! HA!) Seriously though, I don't really know what I want my music to sound like in 20 years. Or 40. All I have are a series of little pictures, snap-shots of where I've been and where I want to go, but on a more gradual basis and smaller scale. I feel a certain necessary impulse to continue on with all this, despite not knowing exactly where I'll end up with it all. So in a sense the Big Picture is very important and in another sense it is a distraction. Music has become necessary for me, in a way that tends to dominate all other aspects of my life, for good or for worse. And right now the focal point of my life is this record.

So what's going on with this record? Well, to put it bluntly: it's going to be a little weirder than the last one. Certain desires of mine to incorporate new sounds and vocalizations are surfacing here. I tread slowly in this direction, though. Whatever we add or change in the studio must be necessary to the song. We're not going to add a lot of really neat sounds just because they're fun... They must contribute to the expressive potential of the original musical/lyrical idea(s). The core of any song must be illuminated by any arrangement, effects, etc., and not obscured.

This is something I often mull over, chew in the ole brain. As a spry lad in his early 20s, I had long been suspicious of how electronic sounds and studio manipulation could alter or change music to the point where it became the dominant force within the creative dynamic of a particular sound. In other words, by using certain sounds (not made by humans), the humanity of the music was lost somehow, in my ear. For me it somehow obscured whatever was at the core of a song, or rendered any expressive potential mute and lifeless. What was supposed to be a peripheral element ended up defining the sound for me. It was like eating a cake made entirely of frosting. Yuck. Gimmick.

This all changed about eleven years ago, when I first heard the Radiohead album "Kid A," in particular the track "Idioteque." The record overall was definitely like nothing I'd ever heard before, and I was initially overwhelmed by all the sampling, loops, crazy sonic textures, etc. And this song specifically was quite jarring at first. A spastic drum loop colored with an almost disorienting chord progression. Weird blurps and frenetic percussion sounds move in and out. It was like some kind of apocalyptic disco music. But there was a certain point during the vocal track: right where Thom Yorke's voice slightly cracks singing ""this is really HAPPENING..." where everything seemed to change for me. Something about the passion in his voice and the intensity of his delivery really got to me. It was a bit of rock and roll leaking through all that electronica. The song came to life in my ear. And all of the crazy samples seemed to work in support of that energy, like all of those sounds needed to be combined in just that way to help reveal that passion in Yorke's voice at just that moment. It was really happening! This was a revelation for me: that electronica could be put to work in the service of an artistic vision and (human) expression. The more I listened to Kid A, the more I heard how all of the looping, sampling, etc. was completely necessary to the sound of the songs and the record overall.



Since then, my ear has been to some crazy places via many other bands and performers such as Wilco, Tom Waits, Pink Floyd, Kinski, Bon Iver, A Place to Bury Strangers and My Morning Jacket, to name just a few off the top of my head... But I can trace back to that moment hearing Idioteque, a profound change: the beginning of the death of the purist in me. All bets were now off. Any sound was now game.

I hope to infuse the current record-in-progress with a bit of this adventuresome spirit. Of course, some tunes resist being warped and manipulated into seemingly unrecognizable contortions of mad beauty. But other tunes welcome it... Overall, I am trying to stay focused on what each individual song wants, and what seems possible in trying to bring the listener into the heart of each moment, each idea, each image. Hopefully when it's done, and the dust settles, it will help on the way to understanding the Big Picture.

From Yeats to Janis...a new solo record is in the works!

This blog rises from the dead once more! I've begun work on a follow-up record to Seven Years Now. Working again with Tom Eaton up in Newburyport, I hope to have a finished record by sometime in the Fall. It is looking to be a collection of nine original tunes, plus a version of "Wandering Angus," a folk song based on a poem by William Butler Yeats. I first heard this tune at a David Gray concert, as an encore song...and it was one of those songs that I immediately fell for. I had to know everything about it: who wrote it, who had recorded it, etc. The lyric concerns a fisherman whose newly-caught trout shapeshifts into a woman, sporting apple-blossoms in her hair. Catch of the day, to be sure. The woman calls his name and runs away, and he spends his entire life searching for her, in vain. Beautiful. Fruitless wandering? Endless searching? A life optimistically devoted to searching? A fish turning into a woman? This was a song I needed to learn, perform, and share.

"Wandering Angus" fit right in with the other tunes I wanted to record. Overall, it's a very different collection of songs from Seven Years Now. Where that record was more introspective, and concerned with the twists and turns of the interior life, this new project is all about other people. Some of them real, some not. But the binding thread is interactions between people. Connections made and lost. In "Wandering Angus" the Other flees and becomes a vision of beauty and meaning, for which the searcher embarks. Other tunes spin similar tales of searching: a landscaper who quits his job to sail the ocean with his wife. A female poet toasting existence in a crowded bar with her new love. A soldier en route on a dangerous mission dreaming of his lover. A man alone in the winter forest, trapped under a fallen tree, calling out to a bird for help... All kinds of desperation and determination, a reaching out, a recognition of the need for another.

I mentioned that some of the songs are actually about real people. By "real," I guess I should've said historical. This includes a country folk ditty I wrote about the author Gerard Nerval. Also, it includes a song about (or for...) Janis Joplin. The Nerval tune ("Crooked Line") isn't entirely new...in fact we used to play it in my old band, The Jody Grind. You can check out a video of that here. (Please forgive how my guitar is slightly out of tune in that video...yikes...)

But the Joplin tune is only about a year old. I was in L.A., April before last, attending the ASACP Expo in Hollywood...trying to build up some professional development skills in this here songwriting pursuit. Anyway, I did not stay in the official conference hotel, as it was a bit pricey. Instead, I opted for a cheaper room nearby at the Highland Gardens Hotel. After having booked a room there for four nights, I was suprised to learn that Janis Joplin had died there, in room 105, of a drug overdose in 1970. Holy rock trivia, Batman! While I didn't stay in room 105, I felt like this was an interesting experience...further compounded by the fact that I visited the Grammy Museum in downtown L.A. only to find a special exhibition on Joplin! It featured her painting and personal letters to her family. Reading her letters, she was filled with such excitement at her success. As if the world was just beginning to understand her...


So anyway, during my stay there in the hotel it occurred to me that I would probably end up writing a song about Joplin. It just seemed like the thing to do. Or more accurately, it just seemed like a song was something that was going to happen. A song would arrive, and I would need to jot it down. I just needed to be open to it. All of my internal radio stations needed to be getting good reception, at the very least. And, wouldn't you know...my last night there, after hitting the town and partying it up with a friend, I found myself in the 4am hour, alone, with bits of lyrics and melody falling into my head. I grabbed the guitar and wrote out five verses in about 30 minutes or so...then I passed out asleep.

The next morning, I looked over the verses expecting to cringe at some mindless drunken nonsense, but all in all it looked pretty good. While I tweaked the order of the verses a little bit, it looked like they had all arrived, safe and sound. I had me a new song. Strangely enough, it was actually a song to Janis, like a calling out to her ghost. I had expected something different, something perhaps more like my Nerval tune, where I am describing aspects of a life. But I was pleased with what I got. The best you can do is to bait the hook and drop it in the water. What you catch is a curious mix of chance, luck, fate, what-have-you...

The last session saw us record "Song for Janis," and I look forward to being able to share it with you when it's finished. In a few days it will be back into the studio for a mammoth session with Steve Bankuti on drums and Tom Bianchi on bass. Hopefully that will finish most of the basic tracking. Knock wood, it's all coming together.

Release (for) the HOUNDS!!!

This Saturday! At Church! The album goes out to the world! Be there if you can!

adventures in demonic impersonation

Doggone it. This record is approaching the end of the recording process. Which means, in fact, the beginning of everything else...artwork, duplication, marketing, reviews, promotion...all in a giant snowball tumble towards a Release Show!

The record is now officially mixed, and almost ready to be mastered. Shane and I endured 2 back-to-back 10 hour mix-a-thons last weekend...between which I managed to play a late-night solo set at an art show in downtown Boston. When Sunday night rolled around, it was safe to say that my brain was a pile of melted garbage. But, I think we nailed it. We rolled through all 11 songs and Shane created some really cool mixes, with a bit of my feedback here and there.



Before we got to the mixing, some last-minute sounds were added to a couple of tunes. There is a song on this record called Dumbstruck (some of you may remember this ditty from my old band)...it was a song I wrote awhile back that has been re-adapted to a different groove and feel in DoTV. The plan was to take the DoTV vibe up a notch with a heavy-hitting blues-punk kinda thing, and this song totally fit the bill. Anyway, I wanted to add some spoken word to the intro, and Shane had recommended I borrow from the recordings of this woman named Jane Roberts...apparently she would get possessed by a spirit named Seth in the 1960s and 1970s, and she (as Seth) doled out self-help advice from the beyond. I initially thought this was a joke, but it seems New Age-y types take it seriously. Let's just say it's not exactly my cup of tea, philosophically speaking. Regardless, I liked how she sounded as possessed, with this eerie declarative rhythmic delivery. I wanted this sound to be the sound of the spoken word part on Dumbstruck.

But, then my practical side took over...I could put something together and do this spoken word thing myself. I grabbed some lines I had written a few weeks ago from a poem called "Fragments of an Alternative Bible" and added some more lines, in the spirit of the song. Then I got to stand in a room with a megaphone and do my best demonic impersonation. What fun! It's just a tiny detail when you think about the DoTV record overall...but it is all these details that add up and compose one entire project as a whole.



So things are getting to the point where a release show will soon be booked. Stay tuned for info on the upcoming release. DoTV is collectively stoked at the prospect of getting our music out there into the world! I think this record shows a band growing into multiple directions at once, taking every chance to evolve and benefit from all that surrounds it...like an expanding supernova bursting in the dark stretches of the universe. Like a giant sponge soaking in water. Like a pigeon trapped in a crouton factory.

OK...that last comparison might be crossing some kind of line. Sorry. I'm not even sure there are crouton factories. In fact, that might be pretty weird...an entire factory just making croutons. Let's just say the band is excited and can't wait to share our music...

Snow problem is no problem.

What is the motto associated with the U.S. Postal Service? "Neither snow nor rain..." or something to that effect... But I know the gist is that the mail gets delivered regardless of the weather. I was reminded of this on my way to the studio in the middle of a blizzard the other Sunday...I had to get there, regardless of the swirling white insanity engulfing my car. But I am getting ahead of myself. The good news is that the weekend before last was another productive weekend for the DoTV record-in-progress...but no thanks go to the weather. Saturday was OK weather-wise and the band got the last of the basic tracks for three songs.



I also got to finalize some guitar parts...which was a relief to get through. Sometimes it is hard to get out of your own head when it comes to recording, and just play. So much self-analysis and self-criticism seem to come to the surface when your music is under a microscope. My solution has been to wait 24 hours before passing judgment on guitar sounds that I make. Nothing is ever good enough at the time. But after awhile, the dust settles and I start to see the method in the madness...things seem better. I start to hear things I like and it might even sound...(gulp)...good...



A blizzard was forecast for Sunday, but I figured we would play it by ear (no pun intended). We were fortunate to have scheduled Stephen Konrads to come in and lay down some keyboard parts for a few tunes. But getting to the studio was quite the challenge. My car becomes a glorified Go-Kart in the snow. It handles like a toy. And so I slip slided my way on a prayer to Brighton... Stephen managed to make it, too. And WOW can this guy play. He played some Wurlitzer and some Hammond sounds on Ben Riley, I'll See You, and The Jailer. He was really easy to work with, he came prepared, and he was adamant about doing it until it was right. You should check out his music if you get a chance. His new band, Sleepy Very Sleepy, is incredible.

So then the snow stopped mid-afternoon, and we were elated. We took the rest of the time to add some noises here and there. Stephen was also a help here too...we were in a similar mindset when it came to sonic texture and ambient adventures. Fun with Sound 101.



Next month should see some of the final touches to the (as-yet) untitled debut from Dogs On Television. There are some vocal parts left to do, and a few odds and ends to address. Will 2010 be the year of the dog? We will have to wait and see...

Happy New Year!

Dogs...in the studio.

A new recording project has begun! OK, perhaps a little background is in order. About a year ago, I decided to put together a band...along the lines of a garage-rock, blues-infused, occasionally noisy kinda thing. At the time, I was heavily into working on my solo record "Seven Years Now" and needed an outlet for raucous, visceral explosions of face-melting bliss. You could say that I had all the yin I could handle and was out shopping for a mad dose of yang. Thankfully, I had the good fortune to befriend drummer Brian Arnold and bass player Sam Sanders. And thus was born Dogs On Television. In this pic, Brian is on the left and that is Sam on the right:


I already had a bunch of songs ready to be rocked...in particular, the songs "Start A Fire" and "The Jailer" left over from my old band were clamoring for attention. And I knew down the line their pleadings would turn to dreams of being recorded. I dug the idea of writing for DoTV and song after song came along. Some hung out, and seemed to work...others seemed to come and then go.

Anyway, this past weekend DoTV began the recording of a full-length record at Taylor Barefoot Studios in Brighton, MA. After two 10-hour sessions, the Dogs had barked up a storm. We were...dog tired...


Seriously though, it's going great. We are fortunate to have as engineer and co-producer, Shane O'Connor. He definitely has a knack for going after the right sound. Plus, anyone who breaks out a theremin is after my own heart! Spooky electronics aside, we are finding all the sounds we need at this studio.


It's a little early to say when this will be done, but it is a much simpler project than "Seven Years Now." So my guess is a CD will be available by Spring 2010. But don't quote me on that. Much work to do! Stay tuned Dog-lovers, I will post more soon.


P.S. A super big thank you to Fallon O'Brien for snapping all the photos!

Videos posted from the CD Release Show!

Some videos from the CD Release Show have been posted on You Tube. See below for the first song from the evening... The rest are viewable here: http://www.youtube.com/jahoulah