Rock and Roll!
What better excuse to get all your friends together and indulge in large quantities of alcohol for an entire day than rock and roll?! I spent yesterday practicing my newfound vocation as a groupie of Neo's new band. I think a good time was had by all though I am certain many of them will be hard pressed to remember the later half of the day!
The day began with the reason for the gathering, which was to record a few songs. I am not talking about the old fashioned method of a tape recorder and the familiar overpowering hiss after many attempts to record layer upon layer of sounds onto two cassette tapes (anyone else out there try that in the 80's?!). No! Mark, the lucky sod, has a full on recording studio in his bedroom. Every kid's dream! Very professional piece of kit, including a spit guard on the singer's mic! I was very impressed.
After a shaky start, and an increasingly frustrated bass player nearly exploding, the band finally managed, with the help of Carlsberg, to complete 4 songs. It was impressive stuff and I was amazed by my own capacity to find the musical wiggly lines on the computer screen fascinating for a whole 6 hours!
As the hours ticked by I felt more frustrated with my own lack of musical talent. To these people it all seemed to come so easily. Maybe they earned it by sacrificing hours upon hours of their youth practicing in their bedrooms, but a small part of me knew it was also a gift. A gift from whom, I do not know, but a gift all the same. These people all sat round microphones and seemed to be able to feel their way through the music - naturally knowing when a key or tempo was changing and I was particularly jealous of the singer's knack to be able to listen to a few tracks of drums and bass and know exactly when she was to come in after a missing solo. Damn them all!
After recording, we all moved onto a pub. My ego was momentarily boosted when a very nice Irishman removed his very drunk friend from drooling on my shoulder-blade and asked if I would have a drink with him! AN IRISHMAN!! In Plymouth?!! I go all the way to Dublin in April this year to find a hoard of Indians, Americans and Germans and am hard pressed to find one cute Irishman, as was my want, and ironically I find one in Plymouth, my home town! Go figure.
As the cocktails started flowing we all then put up our weary feet at the house of the very hospitable Mr and Mrs Earl, where Keely precedes to try and kill us all off with the dreaded Home Made Punch!! At this point my stomach informed me it was time to go home!!
I had a good evening so thank you to everyone for your pleasant company!
The day began with the reason for the gathering, which was to record a few songs. I am not talking about the old fashioned method of a tape recorder and the familiar overpowering hiss after many attempts to record layer upon layer of sounds onto two cassette tapes (anyone else out there try that in the 80's?!). No! Mark, the lucky sod, has a full on recording studio in his bedroom. Every kid's dream! Very professional piece of kit, including a spit guard on the singer's mic! I was very impressed.
After a shaky start, and an increasingly frustrated bass player nearly exploding, the band finally managed, with the help of Carlsberg, to complete 4 songs. It was impressive stuff and I was amazed by my own capacity to find the musical wiggly lines on the computer screen fascinating for a whole 6 hours!
As the hours ticked by I felt more frustrated with my own lack of musical talent. To these people it all seemed to come so easily. Maybe they earned it by sacrificing hours upon hours of their youth practicing in their bedrooms, but a small part of me knew it was also a gift. A gift from whom, I do not know, but a gift all the same. These people all sat round microphones and seemed to be able to feel their way through the music - naturally knowing when a key or tempo was changing and I was particularly jealous of the singer's knack to be able to listen to a few tracks of drums and bass and know exactly when she was to come in after a missing solo. Damn them all!
After recording, we all moved onto a pub. My ego was momentarily boosted when a very nice Irishman removed his very drunk friend from drooling on my shoulder-blade and asked if I would have a drink with him! AN IRISHMAN!! In Plymouth?!! I go all the way to Dublin in April this year to find a hoard of Indians, Americans and Germans and am hard pressed to find one cute Irishman, as was my want, and ironically I find one in Plymouth, my home town! Go figure.
As the cocktails started flowing we all then put up our weary feet at the house of the very hospitable Mr and Mrs Earl, where Keely precedes to try and kill us all off with the dreaded Home Made Punch!! At this point my stomach informed me it was time to go home!!
I had a good evening so thank you to everyone for your pleasant company!
posted by DarkLadee at 1:26 pm
2 Comments:
That punch is the devil's work. THE DEVIL, I SAY. I had to start drinking again at 10am Sunday to stop the terrible, terrible pain...
An excellent day though - will post some MP3's on ConnectedLife when I've finished mixing all the tracks (we still have to record the all important maracas)...
Well Mark, if you ever need an expert spoons player to complete the perfect sound then give me a call! Can't wait to hear the tracks!
Dear lord, you started drinking again Sunday?! Am afraid my stomach has gone on strike and I've been producing my very own butt groove on the settee, whilst buried under several hot water bottles. SOB! Wait 'til I see that Mrs Earl! On the plus side, I get a day off work! Oh, The Pain.
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