featuring Woody (acoustic guitar) and 5-Track (acoustic guitar)

1A

3

1B

click here to listen:
http://www.archive.org/details/5-Track2010-03-05.VientoYAguaglassgoblins

For the evening of March 4 we assembled a group including Jef Hogan (electric bass), Jon Franco (drums), Jennifer Ng (percussion), Woody (acoustic guitar) and myself (acoustic wah-wah guitar).

I had one rehearsal with Jef and John (who also play bass and drums for Greg Franco’s Rough Church), one run-through with Woody, and a loose jam with Jennifer, in the few days before the show. Many of the band members had not met each other until they arrived at the venue. This is less unusual for me than might be suspected.

Viento y Agua in Long Beach is a “coffee house” with wonderful energy, constantly changing art on the walls, the occasional model skeleton, many books, and a warm and inviting stage (and sound system) which was conceived and assembled by Angie Evans. I’ve played a few shows there, by myself and also with Cricket and with Amanda, and every time I’ve felt good and played well.

This was the first time I’d played some of this material in a long time, and the first time I’d ever played some of it with a band. The two acoustic guitars kept the energy closer to the ground than usual, and the songs and improvs worked together for a change instead of fighting for space. The existence of dual percussionists also contributed to the effortless momentum of this group’s sound. We had momentum without frightful velocity.

Good show. Hope we do it again.

I’m doing some work for a friend.

It’s unusual work, for me, lately. I am proof-reading a forthcoming book release for Tarpaulin Sky. I used to do this with my own work, with that of my friends, and once with a lengthy book in the true crime genre, written by my father, which is called Stalemate. But it’s been a while since I did all that. I don’t try to publish my own writing, when there is any, and besides I would probably ask Zinnia to do the proofreading if I had any that needed to be done.

I am enjoying the work. Partly, because it is interesting work. Editing. Spotting the flaws in something and getting rid of them so it can be what it set out to be. Partly, because it is an interesting book. More on that later, when it is out and you can buy it and find out for yourself. Let’s say it this way: I am not sure that I would have read this book were I not proofreading it. But I am glad that I am reading it, and I would recommend this book to anyone that likes innovative, strange, or offbeat short fiction that is not entirely abstract or deliberately nauseating.

But I’m not going to tell you what it is. Not until it is out, and you can buy it and find out for yourself.

*

Meanwhile, I am recording an album with a band called Rough Church. Rough Church is led by Greg Franco. Greg plays the guitar, writes songs, and sings. He’s been doing this for years. We met sometime last year and he asked me to play with his band and help record their new album. I said OK. The other band members are Jef Hogan (bass) and Jon Franco (drums). Jon and Greg are cousins.

We’re recording in Echo Park, which is where I live, which is very convenient. We rehearse in Washington Heights, which is further away but not prohibitively so. Greg has a nice place with a fine view and the air up on his hill is always clear.

The engineer working on the album, in whose studio we are recording, is brilliant. He is doing amazing work. I can barely think sometimes because my ears are so finely tuned and Andrew Bush (the engineer) has ears which are even more finely tuned than my own. But it doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s had his own studio for time which can be measured in decades (at least one-and-a-half of them, I believe) and he knows how to get great sounds out of it.

He also knows how to nudge sounds around digitally to make a better take out of a few not so good ones. This is probably a good skill to have, and he is applying it effectively with us, but I also feel that this is a good skill not to overuse. I am not saying that Andrew overuses this skill, and in fact his results so far with Rough Church have been brilliant. I have no complaints. But I am keeping an eye.

Greg thinks that Andrew made some minor digital changes in one of my guitar solos on one of our songs. I have mixed feelings about this. If I played badly but he liked the ideas and thinks he can make something good out of them, then I am all for it. But if I played something deliberately and well that just sounds a little off to finely-tuned ears (and I am wont to do such a thing as that) then I want to hear it the way I played it.

I have listened to the track where Greg says this happened, before and after versions, and I don’t hear the difference. I will ask Greg to point it out to me, and if I hear a problem I will make a note of it. But on fairly close listening I don’t hear it, myself.

*

So what Andrew appears to have done, if anything, is a bit like what I am doing: proofreading.

When a writer (or a guitar player) likes to work in a style that is not specifically normal all the time, then it is not always apparent where a comma should go, or whether or not a musical phrase is off-time.

Proofreading. A word which sounds to me increasingly like a stifled sneeze. I have to get familiar enough with the writer’s style to know when she meant to do things a certain way and when she just got excited and distracted by what she was writing and overlooked a few details.

With any luck, Andrew is doing the same thing with my guitar solos. And with any luck, he and I are both good enough at our jobs to know how to leave it alone when it should be left alone and also to make the correct changes when necessary to bring out the purest possible flowering of the artist’s original intent.

I am not used to having my guitar solos proofread. I would think that a writer would be more comfortable with this, as it goes with the territory pretty much from day one. Then again, even as a writer I have had my issues with proofreaders. I often feel that they do not understand me or my intentions. I don’t think there’s a good or bad to it, but regardless of whether I am writing or playing the guitar, I think one of my aims would have to be to do it well enough in the first place that proofreading is unnecessary.

It rained again, less dramatically, for a couple-few days. No tornadoes, little in the way of mudslides, the mania all wrought out in the first go rounds.

It was a spring rain. It was a subtle difference. It had less of a density to it, not so much in the way of sodden snowpants and slightly more along the line of still-wearing-those-wet-clothes-are-you?

Then it got clear, like it does. Best air here is right after a rain. I go outside just to breathe.

It got hot. I had heard it was going to, and then it happened, in the middle of the night. I could tell cos I woke up sweaty and had to take some clothes off. Sure sign of a heat wave.

And the next two days of February in southern California were as hot as Vermont ever gets in July (maybe a couple of hotter days in August). The heat was nice – got my first light sunburn of the year, it passed quickly when I applied Aloe, or Arnica, or Something – but also a reminder that it ONLY GETS HOTTER FROM HERE, HA HAAAAA!!!

Then two days that could be described as relatively cool (even bordering on chilly on at least one evening) and now it is raining again.

A return to the One.

Well, wrong speed more like it.

Sonic Youth has released a series of records on their own SYR label, many of which consist mainly of improvisations recorded in their studio during rehearsals or between and among album sessions. Most if not all of these releases are labeled in languages which are not English. The reasons for this are obscure…

I own two of these releases (#1 and #2, I believe …) and I like them quite well. I’ve had #2 for longer and played it more often, so last night I got out #1 to listen to while reading a short story by Irvine Welsh (which mentions heroin only briefly so sppbt to his reputation … we’ll see how the collection progresses, but so far the writing is really solid good and I would recommend it, the book is called The Acid House).

The Sonic Youth record was mellower than I recalled, pleasantly droning and pulsating, and after a minute or two a little light went on in my brain and I realized it was one of those increasingly-common large-sized 45rpm releases, which I was playing at 33&1/3.

I let it go. It sounded good. I will listen to side two today in the same manner.

It has become typical that I prefer those large-size 45rpm releases when played at the wrong speed. This first came to light during Marc Cantlin’s visit to Los Angeles back in the spring of 2009… said visit documented here:

Right around that time I had purchased a record by Akron/Family called “Set ‘Em Wild, Set ‘Em Free.” I sat down to listen to it and was really enjoying it a lot, really into it … and it took me half of side one (of four) to realize I was listening too slow. Or rather, the record was moving too slow. Perhaps I was listening too fast.

I returned the album to its intended speed and started over … to my great dissatisfaction. It was weak, lightweight, affected, even silly!* (On the other hand, I had discovered afro-grunge.)

For a taste of this madness, dig this video (both videos were taken by Volita Pearl and are posted from her you-tube page):

Since that time I have found in my collection also a record by Omar Rodriguez Lopez called, I think, “Please Heat This Eventually” with guest Damo Suzuki which I’ve been playing on the wrong speed for years and never realized. It’s better that way, trust me.

* To be fair to Akron/Family, who are a worthy group, the album sounds pretty good, especially sides 2-4, if you have not just listened to it at the wrong speed first. Contrast is, in this case, everything.

Yesterday was a hair on the chilly side, tho not unpleasant… like Seattle in the spring. Like there’s a mild, debatably damp bite in the air. But not overtly damp. And not a nip. No teeth to it. Just a chill. And besides, it was sunny. I was outside mainly in the late afternoon, just before sunset, attempting to contend with what turns out to be a double-filament bulb in our 1999 Nissan Altima’s tail/brake-lights. Hassle upon hassle - but pleasant enough to deal with until you get a fix-it ticket. Which we haven’t got, so rite on it is.

Was also out briefly driving to Greg’s for Rough Church rehearsal. It was nice enough up his way, but not spectacularly so (measured by that I didn’t notice, and I usually do). I mean, it was clear and the air and temperature were pleasant. I just didn’t get any sense of the cosmic ambience. Which could in itself be telling.

Previous afternoon I was rehearsing on Simon’s Drum Satellite with Cricket & The 2:19. I brought an extra shirt thinking I’d need one. Didn’t really, though it wasn’t too much either. Also pleasant and cool, but a little drier in the air. Like, micro-clicks drier. Notably unnotable, also, except in relations to the days surrounding.

Micro-clicks of individuation are, I suspect, what I am after.

Today it is raining again. I haven’t been out yet. I will soon be on my way back to Greg’s, but I don’t see much to sample today in the way of meteorological micro-clicks. It is wet, and probably a bit chilly. I don’t mind.

Sodden palm fronds line the pavement like drowned monkeys, figments of last week’s rain, and I believe yesterday was the 1st day of spring.

Which is a radical thing to say about January 30th. But this is Los Angeles, and I can feel it. There is said to be more rain yet to come. But I’m putting it on the line right here and now that it is going to be a spring rain.

OK, so in terms of my thesis re: the subtleties of Los Angeles weather I could not have picked a worse time to begin. The weather here this past week+ has been nothing if not DRAMATIC. One 40-something Los Angeles native and lifelong resident told me this was the wildest set of storms he’s ever encountered here - before embarking on a rant about the misnomer that is “global warming” … hence, I advised, the increasing usage of the more accurate term, “global climate change” … and there we are.

The last few days have been cool, mellow, round, pleasant, the sun not showing it’s face until late morning but then coming out in strength … but a benign strength, and the air has been very clear, tasty and breathable. We’ve been up in the canyon a part of the time, where it’s just bound to be nice … but it’s been nice down below, too. I was there.

Yesterday it rained a bunch more. I took a couple of mid-length walks in it, to the library and to the rekkid store (more on that later I magine). A pleasant woman working as security on a media shoot of some description (I mean, they were filming something … not that they were shooting at the media, fortunately or un-) asked me where my umbrella was, and I replied that I am from Seattle … which is true, although more by inclination than by birth. It felt good to say it, and not at all dishonest, and it is in fact probably why I don’t use an umbrella.

But as I explained to my climate-concerned friend, although it does rain most days in Seattle, it does not DELUGE or DOWNPOUR so very often, and it almost never rains ALL DAY.

OK, and as for the effects of the aberrant weather on the Los Angeles population:

There was a woman pacing up and down on the sidewalk across the street from my apartment. It was not an even pace. She tended to cover ten to fifteen feet at a circuit, but not always the same ten to fifteen feet, meandering up and down over thirty yards on a five minute cycle (yeah, I paid way too much attention to this). She was blonde, pudgily proportioned in a lump and unhealthy way as if she had been stuffed badly, wearing mainly a shapeless black dress and little white heels, carrying an umbrella and talking on a cellular phone into which she was hollering:

“WEEAUUGGGGHHHH! WHOA! YEEOWW!”

Each exclamation punctuated with a wobbly marionette-like dip of one knee.

“God is ANGRY!!! Get thee behind me, Satan! YAAAUUGHH!!”

… And on and on, some of it less intelligible than other.

From time to time, either she lost her phone connection or she got hung up on. When this happened she would calmly and quietly, picture of normalcy, stop her pacing, examine the phone, re-dial, and then pick up right where she’d left off, pacing and kicking and glossolating.

When it rain down here, the crazies come out.