Other stuff, for a change… My regular column for the newspaper is starting to get some attention; I hear from people telling me they read it. Folks are starting to get used to my insistence on the Wednesday deadline, and I have subjects for about two columns ahead now.
No job yet, but getting lots of interviews does generate feelings that I’m doing something right. In addition to the Gold Hill city manager interview 8/31, I have one for a state planner job 9/10, and I got a letter saying I’m on the short list to be called for another state job—to be a Fish & Wildlife bureaucrat in southern Oregon, of all things. (On the minus side, I found out one city-manager job I applied for had 75 applicants, most from other states—all places where, presumably, the economy is worse even than in Oregon.)
Lead guitar tracks are done for “No Good Songs About the War,” and the CD’s off to England for the Dylan-wannabe contest. (I sent them the entry fee ahead of time—in British pounds. The prize is in British pounds, too.) We recorded the lead guitar three times—all on the Strat—and then John decided to use all of them. Since I am mostly hitting the same notes each time, at the same time—I tend to be a pretty precise lead player—when they’re all played together, it sounds like an odd variety of reverb. I think it’ll be all right. The recording has a very “live” sound, even though the harmonica and guitar leads were recorded later. (John re-recorded his bass track later, too.) I had a chance to see John’s software in action—he has Adobe Audition—and it is impressive.
I’m going down to southern Oregon a day before the job interview, so I can play music at the Wild Goose in Ashland Sunday night. It’ll be my best shot at seeing a lot of the people I know down there. I should get to play 3 songs (with maybe an encore since I’ve been away so long); what I don’t know is whether I’ll have a band. (“Band” in this case consists of a harmonica player and a bass player. Don’t need anything else, really.)
If I have backup musicians available, I’d like to do “Things Are Getting Better Now That Things Are Getting Worse,” the Gene Burnett song about the Depression that’s become a favorite of folks here on the Coast ever since they heard it in the Failed Economy Show. Gene’s never heard it performed by a band (he usually does all his stuff solo), and I think it’d be a treat not just for him, but for the crowd as well. They can also hear “Always Pet the Dogs” (the crowd at Burgerville liked it)—that one really needs to be played with a band, or it ends up feeling too short—and “Hank’s Song,” since it’s getting close to Hank Williams’ birthday (and that’s a song the crowd at the Goose likes to sing along with). “Love Trails of the Zombie Snails” if I get to do an encore.
If I’m solo, I can still do “Hank’s Song”—it’s long enough to be done easily solo—but I’ll need to do others that don’t need lead breaks, too. “50 Ways to Cure the Depression” would work—I don’t remember if I ever played that at the Goose—and so would “Love Trails of the Zombie Snails.” I ought to try to play that one anyway; it’s my newest song. I can mention the Burlesque Show up in Portland Sept. 26 (which no one from Ashland is likely to see) and the two half-hour shows on Ashland public television (which people in Ashland are likely to see—I just don’t know when).
And I finally did connect with the music teacher, about my proposal to have one of his middle-school rock bands “be” Southern Pigfish for the Southern Pigfish album (and video). He’s interested, and thinks some of the kids might be, too. He won’t have time to work on it until after the “Rocktoberfest” October 9-10 (at which he wants our band to play)—but I’m not in a hurry. Southern Pigfish doesn’t exist. They can wait a little longer.
Joe
Friday, August 28, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
BURGERVILLE GIG POST-MORTEM...
The Burgerville gig went pretty good. Sparse crowd (Burgerville advertised, but I hadn’t), but people listened, and virtually every person left tips. Even got a nickel from a little girl who had listened raptly to “When They Die, I Put Them in the Cookies” (I had to help her drop it in the Yellow Bucket because she couldn’t reach it). A couple of the people who said they’d visit actually did (thank you). And the staff wants me back (I thought they weren’t listening until they sent somebody over to turn up my volume).
Best-received songs were “Dead Things in the Shower” (women like it), “Hey, Little Chicken” (little kids and their parents like it), and TampaStan’s “Un-Easy Street.” That last one’s been a hit everywhere it’s been played.
Used the bigger of my two tiny amps for a PA; I’d originally brought it in just as a prop (“See? I’m a Professional Musician—I have an Amp”), but decided to use it so I wouldn’t have to strain my voice. I was able by the second set to get the volume right on the guitar, but I never did get it right on the microphone. The lesson there? Practice with it ahead of time, till I know exactly where the levels should be. I thought I’d need 30 songs, but didn’t—two hours solo works out closer to 13 songs per hour instead of 15.
I should do more of these solo gigs. It’s good practice not being dependent on other people, and facing my fears and butterflies on my own. I was scared to death of the thing—I hadn’t played a solo gig for months—but it was all right. I simply dropped into Rock Star Persona and acted like I knew what I was doing (I do know what I’m doing, after all) and did this sort of thing all the time. I set up the stuff (having allowed myself a whole hour to do it in), strategically positioning the CDs, the red notebook with the “joelist,” and the Yellow Bucket that says “Tipping Is Not A City In China,” started precisely on time, and played as if I didn’t care whether anybody was in the room. (And initially, nobody was. But people did start to drift in after a while, and obviously listened, and that was cool.)
There is a Border’s Bookstore in Beaverton (about 10-15 miles closer to home) that has started doing live music on Friday nights (daughter Kimberly’s boyfriend Eddie works there), and I’ll see if I can nail myself down a gig there. I got to see their performance space last night, and it is small and intimate—ideal for a one-man acoustic (or teeny amp) show. I’d miss playing with the Friday Night Group, but it’d be okay. And that one, I think I’d publicize the heck out of, and see what showed up. One difficulty I have that most solo performers in these situations don’t is it costs me significant time and money to do this—about 4 hours’ driving time and $25 in gas to “do” the Burgerville gig, for example. I need to generate enough business, in tips and CD sales, to recover at least the cost of the gas.
I don’t think anybody’s doing these little gigs over here on the Coast, and it’d be fun to get somebody to try. To my knowledge, there aren’t any of those chain outfits over here, either; in both Lincoln City (an hour’s drive south) and Seaside (an hour notrth) I don’t think there’s a Border’s, or a Burgerville. There is a Denny’s (all-night restaurant) that just opened in Tillamook, though. I wonder if they’d be interested in (say) a “Midnight Show” on Saturday nights, to see if it’d bring customers in? I bet they don’t get a lot of business in the middle of the night. And I wouldn’t care about playing to an empty room if the empty room was only 9 miles away.
UPDATES: Trip to southern Oregon is on; I’ll get to play music Sunday night at the Wild Goose, job interview in Gold Hill on Monday, and come back Tuesday after getting new strings on the guitar. I can’t film Rufus at home until next week, but there’s some kind of “Pet Tea Party” going on at the Fairgrounds Saturday, and Sara and Rufus may be there; that could be fun. And I have yet another job interview, this one Sept. 10 with state Emergency Management (I applied to be one of their planners). Good thing I got the suit cleaned when I had time.
The job interviews get frustrating after a while. It’s nice to feel wanted—but I wish I was wanted kinda more, y’know? I feel like those proverbial chicks in the tavern—it’s great that all these guys want to take me home, but doesn’t anybody want to marry me?
Joe
Best-received songs were “Dead Things in the Shower” (women like it), “Hey, Little Chicken” (little kids and their parents like it), and TampaStan’s “Un-Easy Street.” That last one’s been a hit everywhere it’s been played.
Used the bigger of my two tiny amps for a PA; I’d originally brought it in just as a prop (“See? I’m a Professional Musician—I have an Amp”), but decided to use it so I wouldn’t have to strain my voice. I was able by the second set to get the volume right on the guitar, but I never did get it right on the microphone. The lesson there? Practice with it ahead of time, till I know exactly where the levels should be. I thought I’d need 30 songs, but didn’t—two hours solo works out closer to 13 songs per hour instead of 15.
I should do more of these solo gigs. It’s good practice not being dependent on other people, and facing my fears and butterflies on my own. I was scared to death of the thing—I hadn’t played a solo gig for months—but it was all right. I simply dropped into Rock Star Persona and acted like I knew what I was doing (I do know what I’m doing, after all) and did this sort of thing all the time. I set up the stuff (having allowed myself a whole hour to do it in), strategically positioning the CDs, the red notebook with the “joelist,” and the Yellow Bucket that says “Tipping Is Not A City In China,” started precisely on time, and played as if I didn’t care whether anybody was in the room. (And initially, nobody was. But people did start to drift in after a while, and obviously listened, and that was cool.)
There is a Border’s Bookstore in Beaverton (about 10-15 miles closer to home) that has started doing live music on Friday nights (daughter Kimberly’s boyfriend Eddie works there), and I’ll see if I can nail myself down a gig there. I got to see their performance space last night, and it is small and intimate—ideal for a one-man acoustic (or teeny amp) show. I’d miss playing with the Friday Night Group, but it’d be okay. And that one, I think I’d publicize the heck out of, and see what showed up. One difficulty I have that most solo performers in these situations don’t is it costs me significant time and money to do this—about 4 hours’ driving time and $25 in gas to “do” the Burgerville gig, for example. I need to generate enough business, in tips and CD sales, to recover at least the cost of the gas.
I don’t think anybody’s doing these little gigs over here on the Coast, and it’d be fun to get somebody to try. To my knowledge, there aren’t any of those chain outfits over here, either; in both Lincoln City (an hour’s drive south) and Seaside (an hour notrth) I don’t think there’s a Border’s, or a Burgerville. There is a Denny’s (all-night restaurant) that just opened in Tillamook, though. I wonder if they’d be interested in (say) a “Midnight Show” on Saturday nights, to see if it’d bring customers in? I bet they don’t get a lot of business in the middle of the night. And I wouldn’t care about playing to an empty room if the empty room was only 9 miles away.
UPDATES: Trip to southern Oregon is on; I’ll get to play music Sunday night at the Wild Goose, job interview in Gold Hill on Monday, and come back Tuesday after getting new strings on the guitar. I can’t film Rufus at home until next week, but there’s some kind of “Pet Tea Party” going on at the Fairgrounds Saturday, and Sara and Rufus may be there; that could be fun. And I have yet another job interview, this one Sept. 10 with state Emergency Management (I applied to be one of their planners). Good thing I got the suit cleaned when I had time.
The job interviews get frustrating after a while. It’s nice to feel wanted—but I wish I was wanted kinda more, y’know? I feel like those proverbial chicks in the tavern—it’s great that all these guys want to take me home, but doesn’t anybody want to marry me?
Joe
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
THE MAKING OF EPISODE TWO...
This just in—another job interview! This one’s in Gold Hill, down in southern Oregon again, and it’s to be their first-ever city manager. Next Monday night; I’ll tentatively go down early and play music while I’m there. (Good time to get new strings again for the guitar. I’ve been playing a lot.)
Episode Two of the “Joe Show” is uploaded to YouTube, with links at Facebook and Just Plain Folks. (Still have to add MySpace. There may be other places I can do this, too.) URL is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rMp8CQ9LUU. I still don’t know how well I’m doing with these. There hasn’t been much feedback.
Song for this one was “Leavin’ It to Beaver,” which I wrote back when I played with the Dodson Drifters, 30 years and more ago. It doesn’t get played a lot (making the song a good candidate for the show), though people do occasionally request it (and that still surprises me). I don’t encourage it, because the song is long—a lot of words, there—and moves pretty fast, so it entails some pretty strategic breathing. It is a song that works well in “French video,” because all you need is title frames from the umpty-gazillion old TV shows referenced in the song—usually one per line, so it moves pretty fast.
The discussion part—just 2-1/2 minutes out of the 8-minute show—was about inspiration. The “Hubris Gone Wild” attempt to compare myself to Shakespeare aside, there’s really not much I can say about inspiration; it’s there, and anybody can take advantage of it, really. I could probably devote another episode or two of the “Joe Show” to it, anyway, even though I’d be repeating myself. If one talks about something from a number of different directions, one can usually get one’s point across.
And having finished Episode Two, I am already thinking about Episode Three. I used to do this as a newspaper editor, too; as soon as an issue of the paper was put “to bed,” my assistant editor and I would be sketching out the next one—deciding what were going to be the major stories and where in the paper they’d go, which events we’d assign reporters to and which we’d cover ourselves, and even what regular features like the publisher’s column were going to say.
I’d like the next “Joe Show” to be with Rufus, librarian Sara’s English bulldog. I can shoot short bursts of video with the digital camera (I’m just not sure how short—I might have to do it in several increments), and use that as the backdrop for “Me and Rufus, and Burnin’ Down the House,” the song I did about Sara’s house fire. About five minutes of Rufus doing Dog Things would be plenty to work with. Nice thing about using my photo material is I can make mine come out clearer—I have good photo-manipulation software, stuff that isn’t made any more (my program is 13 years old).
The burlesque show is finally taking shape (I was getting worried). We have a role for me, that incorporates the music; I’ll function as the Dear Abby type who, when asked for advice, will dispense—in song—something completely unrelated. For which I’ll be thanked profusely, of course, by my supplicants, as if what I’d said were actually meaningful. Rather like the Oracle at Delphi (who also spoke cryptically and in verse), only in overalls and with a severe case of Alzheimer’s. I have a couple of songs that’d probably work for this. They need to be short; burlesque is pretty fast-paced.
The upcoming week is shaping up to be pretty fast-paced itself. Gig at the Hawthorne Blvd. Burgerville (solo and unplugged) Tuesday night; trip to Warrenton Wednesday night; I’ll record the lead guitar part (and maybe re-do the vocal) on “No Good Songs About the War” for the Dylan-wannabe contest Thursday night (gotta get that off to England); music Friday night—and I leave for southern Oregon and the job interview Sunday, returning Tuesday. My chance to record Rufus is going to be Saturday after Sara gets off work, I think.
Joe
Episode Two of the “Joe Show” is uploaded to YouTube, with links at Facebook and Just Plain Folks. (Still have to add MySpace. There may be other places I can do this, too.) URL is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rMp8CQ9LUU. I still don’t know how well I’m doing with these. There hasn’t been much feedback.
Song for this one was “Leavin’ It to Beaver,” which I wrote back when I played with the Dodson Drifters, 30 years and more ago. It doesn’t get played a lot (making the song a good candidate for the show), though people do occasionally request it (and that still surprises me). I don’t encourage it, because the song is long—a lot of words, there—and moves pretty fast, so it entails some pretty strategic breathing. It is a song that works well in “French video,” because all you need is title frames from the umpty-gazillion old TV shows referenced in the song—usually one per line, so it moves pretty fast.
The discussion part—just 2-1/2 minutes out of the 8-minute show—was about inspiration. The “Hubris Gone Wild” attempt to compare myself to Shakespeare aside, there’s really not much I can say about inspiration; it’s there, and anybody can take advantage of it, really. I could probably devote another episode or two of the “Joe Show” to it, anyway, even though I’d be repeating myself. If one talks about something from a number of different directions, one can usually get one’s point across.
And having finished Episode Two, I am already thinking about Episode Three. I used to do this as a newspaper editor, too; as soon as an issue of the paper was put “to bed,” my assistant editor and I would be sketching out the next one—deciding what were going to be the major stories and where in the paper they’d go, which events we’d assign reporters to and which we’d cover ourselves, and even what regular features like the publisher’s column were going to say.
I’d like the next “Joe Show” to be with Rufus, librarian Sara’s English bulldog. I can shoot short bursts of video with the digital camera (I’m just not sure how short—I might have to do it in several increments), and use that as the backdrop for “Me and Rufus, and Burnin’ Down the House,” the song I did about Sara’s house fire. About five minutes of Rufus doing Dog Things would be plenty to work with. Nice thing about using my photo material is I can make mine come out clearer—I have good photo-manipulation software, stuff that isn’t made any more (my program is 13 years old).
The burlesque show is finally taking shape (I was getting worried). We have a role for me, that incorporates the music; I’ll function as the Dear Abby type who, when asked for advice, will dispense—in song—something completely unrelated. For which I’ll be thanked profusely, of course, by my supplicants, as if what I’d said were actually meaningful. Rather like the Oracle at Delphi (who also spoke cryptically and in verse), only in overalls and with a severe case of Alzheimer’s. I have a couple of songs that’d probably work for this. They need to be short; burlesque is pretty fast-paced.
The upcoming week is shaping up to be pretty fast-paced itself. Gig at the Hawthorne Blvd. Burgerville (solo and unplugged) Tuesday night; trip to Warrenton Wednesday night; I’ll record the lead guitar part (and maybe re-do the vocal) on “No Good Songs About the War” for the Dylan-wannabe contest Thursday night (gotta get that off to England); music Friday night—and I leave for southern Oregon and the job interview Sunday, returning Tuesday. My chance to record Rufus is going to be Saturday after Sara gets off work, I think.
Joe
Sunday, August 23, 2009
JOE SHOW EPISODE #2 IS COMING...
I learned something about the Tascam I didn’t know. If I’m going to record a long 4-track piece all at once—like the soundtrack to the “Joe Show”—it better be less than 7-1/2 minutes. That’s all the Tascam can hold. The first draft of “The Joe Show, Episode Two” was 8-1/2 minutes long, and I couldn’t mix it—and I have to mix it before I transfer it to the computer, because the computer can’t read the unmixed files. (There is probably a way around this problem, but I don’t know what it is.) I had to erase what I had, and re-do it. Making the discussion part of the show shorter was easy, but I still recorded and mixed (and transferred to the computer) the discussion and song parts separately the second time around—I was not going to risk the “memory card full” problem again.
I wanted to clear out the Tascam’s memory card anyway, because I had a quick project I wanted to do—the musication of a folk song I ran across, by a British writer, Jon Harrington. It was a classic Scottish ballad—a ghost story, in fact, hight “The Haunting of Harbury Hill.” Like many a Scottish ballad, it’s written in waltz time—but when I played it on the guitar, it came out inadvertently as a two-step (4/4 time, in other words). So that was how it got recorded. The idea of a ghost story you can dance to was perversely attractive—there aren’t many of those, I imagine. And Jon said he liked it, and wanted to perform it, and record it himself, so I sent him the chords.
The song has no chorus (doesn’t need one—the hook is in the final line of each of the seven verses), and still came in at 4:45 with a lead break (which it had to have, so I could show off my guitar playing). So I gave the song an “A” part and a “B” part, in alternating verses, like a lot of old fiddle tunes have. The “A” part is a straightforward three chords, all majors. The “B” part, though, starts out acting like it’s a chorus—with more of a rock beat—and then ends on a minor (the only minor chord in the whole song). From which it segues back into the “A” part. It was a lot of fun to do, and I hope I’ll have the chance to do more of this guy’s stuff.
Jon re-recorded it himself, using my music, and sent me the result. He did it as a waltz, which is definitely more traditional folk music (it may be only country boys like me that “default” to a two-step), but kept the same tempo—which makes it 25% faster. (I did the math.) One definitely wants to dance to this. And he added an extra line at the end of the “B” part, easing the segue back to the “A” part, and that’s really nice.
I have also acquired a big pile of computer equipment. The local community college was having a garage sale (they’re moving to new quarters, and had a lot to dispose of). For five bucks, I got three computers, a monitor, two keyboards, two mice, and cables. The ‘puters are old, but one of them is supposed to have Windows XP and another has a 20GB hard drive. The goal is to assemble a computer for the studio, that I could use exclusively for music and video. It would be nice if the three computers’ RAM chips were compatible—I don’t know that yet, but none of the three has a whole lot of RAM, and music work (especially video) uses a lot of RAM.
The next step is to clean the garage studio (which I haven’t been using—I’ve been doing my recording in the house, since I can do it anywhere), and make space to work on and set up the Music Computer. Another thing I’d best do while I’m unemployed and have time.
Episode Two of the Joe Show is done; finished today, and it’s 8 minutes long. (And it’s not posted yet, for those who were looking forward to watching it. I have to “devour my young” a few more times first, to mqke sure everything’s all right.) These videos take three scriptings; I have to script out the discussion, the slides, and the overlay text—and they have to be related enough to not be confusing, and different enough to not be boring. A fine line to walk.
Joe
I wanted to clear out the Tascam’s memory card anyway, because I had a quick project I wanted to do—the musication of a folk song I ran across, by a British writer, Jon Harrington. It was a classic Scottish ballad—a ghost story, in fact, hight “The Haunting of Harbury Hill.” Like many a Scottish ballad, it’s written in waltz time—but when I played it on the guitar, it came out inadvertently as a two-step (4/4 time, in other words). So that was how it got recorded. The idea of a ghost story you can dance to was perversely attractive—there aren’t many of those, I imagine. And Jon said he liked it, and wanted to perform it, and record it himself, so I sent him the chords.
The song has no chorus (doesn’t need one—the hook is in the final line of each of the seven verses), and still came in at 4:45 with a lead break (which it had to have, so I could show off my guitar playing). So I gave the song an “A” part and a “B” part, in alternating verses, like a lot of old fiddle tunes have. The “A” part is a straightforward three chords, all majors. The “B” part, though, starts out acting like it’s a chorus—with more of a rock beat—and then ends on a minor (the only minor chord in the whole song). From which it segues back into the “A” part. It was a lot of fun to do, and I hope I’ll have the chance to do more of this guy’s stuff.
Jon re-recorded it himself, using my music, and sent me the result. He did it as a waltz, which is definitely more traditional folk music (it may be only country boys like me that “default” to a two-step), but kept the same tempo—which makes it 25% faster. (I did the math.) One definitely wants to dance to this. And he added an extra line at the end of the “B” part, easing the segue back to the “A” part, and that’s really nice.
I have also acquired a big pile of computer equipment. The local community college was having a garage sale (they’re moving to new quarters, and had a lot to dispose of). For five bucks, I got three computers, a monitor, two keyboards, two mice, and cables. The ‘puters are old, but one of them is supposed to have Windows XP and another has a 20GB hard drive. The goal is to assemble a computer for the studio, that I could use exclusively for music and video. It would be nice if the three computers’ RAM chips were compatible—I don’t know that yet, but none of the three has a whole lot of RAM, and music work (especially video) uses a lot of RAM.
The next step is to clean the garage studio (which I haven’t been using—I’ve been doing my recording in the house, since I can do it anywhere), and make space to work on and set up the Music Computer. Another thing I’d best do while I’m unemployed and have time.
Episode Two of the Joe Show is done; finished today, and it’s 8 minutes long. (And it’s not posted yet, for those who were looking forward to watching it. I have to “devour my young” a few more times first, to mqke sure everything’s all right.) These videos take three scriptings; I have to script out the discussion, the slides, and the overlay text—and they have to be related enough to not be confusing, and different enough to not be boring. A fine line to walk.
Joe
Thursday, August 20, 2009
THE FIRST VIDEO SHOW...
Finished the first episode of the ”Joe Show,” and it’s posted on YouTube and MySpace with links to Facebook and Just Plain Folks. The YouTube link is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HttdPnrZO8. It was about a 6-hour job, for less than five minutes of video—and I’m not sure future episodes will take any less time, at least until I have better technology.
I did it “French style,” ignoring the webcam (since it wasn’t working, and I was tired of investing time to find out why) and instead doing a slide show with audio track and simultaneous on-screen text. Having three things happening at once almost makes it feel like moving pictures. Since there’s no way the thing could “go viral” at this point, I made the video do double duty by having it address the request of Performing Songwriters’ Lorelei Loveridge for thoughts on the current state of the music business. (My thoughts thereon are curmudgeonly, to put it nicely.)
For this one, the song was “The Taboo Song”—the one about the list of 15 things you’re not supposed to put in a song. It’s not a song that’s going to get played much in public (though it has been performed once with the Friday Night Group, and may get incorporated into the burlesque show). One of the things the “Joe Show” can do is showcase material that doesn’t have the opportunity to get performed often—provided I can do it in a way that proves a point.
I’m definitely going to need a lot more photos if I keep doing it this way. The camera needs to go everywhere I go, with extra batteries, and needs to get used. A lot. There are transition tricks in Windows Movie Maker I haven’t used (but I have seen them used in French videos), and I’ll have to try the less annoying ones. And I think I can make my digital camera take short bursts of video, that can be incorporated into these shows (with text overlays).
The first breaking of new ground always establishes a template. Since I like working in a box, one of the first things I do is define the box. What I did in the first video is going to be the box, since I don’t know of any “industry standards” that define what I’m doing; as I run into things, or get constructive feedback (which I hope I’ll get), the dimensions of the box could change. I have watched the video a lot—“devouring my young,” a former editor of mine called it—and I’ve been as harsh a critic as possible on my own. There are some things I’d make sure to do differently next time—but not many.
Right now, the box looks like this. The video is going to be a little over 5 minutes long (maximum 10 minutes), with more than half the time taken up by the song. It’ll be “French style” until further notice—I might as well explore what I can do with the genre. I’ll need 6 to 12 slides per minute—that’s a lot of photography—and they’ll not only need to relate to what’s being talked about, they’ll need to be different each time. The discussion (scripted out ahead of time and rehearsed, as always) will be short and punchy; like the songs themselves, there can’t be a single wasted word, because the more time I take, the more photographs I’ll need. (That’s one good thing about “French video.” A lot of the amateurs who make “regular” YouTube videos do tend to ramble on, because they have no incentive to be concise. I do.)
The song needs to be able to illustrate a point made in the discussion (and the discussion will be first, according to our template). The song also has to be able to be illustrated with photos—it’s not like we’re just pointing a webcam at me playing the guitar. Some songs come across better in the “French video” format than others.
It would be fun to try next “Leavin’ It to Beaver,” a song I wrote over 30 years ago when I was rhythm guitarist for the Dodson Drifters. It’s only been recorded once, on that first, limited-distribution album that had just me and solo guitar. The song does get requested now and then, though, like some other songs the Dodson Drifters made famous. It would be easy to “video-ify”—but it is a long song, over 6 minutes without a lead break. (It’s a fast song, too—requires some very strategic breathing.) Could “Alice” the ‘puter handle something like that? Could I?
The discussion, I think, could be about INSPIRATION—where it comes from (like I know where it comes from), and how one can take advantage of it. Like they say on TV, stay tuned.
Joe
I did it “French style,” ignoring the webcam (since it wasn’t working, and I was tired of investing time to find out why) and instead doing a slide show with audio track and simultaneous on-screen text. Having three things happening at once almost makes it feel like moving pictures. Since there’s no way the thing could “go viral” at this point, I made the video do double duty by having it address the request of Performing Songwriters’ Lorelei Loveridge for thoughts on the current state of the music business. (My thoughts thereon are curmudgeonly, to put it nicely.)
For this one, the song was “The Taboo Song”—the one about the list of 15 things you’re not supposed to put in a song. It’s not a song that’s going to get played much in public (though it has been performed once with the Friday Night Group, and may get incorporated into the burlesque show). One of the things the “Joe Show” can do is showcase material that doesn’t have the opportunity to get performed often—provided I can do it in a way that proves a point.
I’m definitely going to need a lot more photos if I keep doing it this way. The camera needs to go everywhere I go, with extra batteries, and needs to get used. A lot. There are transition tricks in Windows Movie Maker I haven’t used (but I have seen them used in French videos), and I’ll have to try the less annoying ones. And I think I can make my digital camera take short bursts of video, that can be incorporated into these shows (with text overlays).
The first breaking of new ground always establishes a template. Since I like working in a box, one of the first things I do is define the box. What I did in the first video is going to be the box, since I don’t know of any “industry standards” that define what I’m doing; as I run into things, or get constructive feedback (which I hope I’ll get), the dimensions of the box could change. I have watched the video a lot—“devouring my young,” a former editor of mine called it—and I’ve been as harsh a critic as possible on my own. There are some things I’d make sure to do differently next time—but not many.
Right now, the box looks like this. The video is going to be a little over 5 minutes long (maximum 10 minutes), with more than half the time taken up by the song. It’ll be “French style” until further notice—I might as well explore what I can do with the genre. I’ll need 6 to 12 slides per minute—that’s a lot of photography—and they’ll not only need to relate to what’s being talked about, they’ll need to be different each time. The discussion (scripted out ahead of time and rehearsed, as always) will be short and punchy; like the songs themselves, there can’t be a single wasted word, because the more time I take, the more photographs I’ll need. (That’s one good thing about “French video.” A lot of the amateurs who make “regular” YouTube videos do tend to ramble on, because they have no incentive to be concise. I do.)
The song needs to be able to illustrate a point made in the discussion (and the discussion will be first, according to our template). The song also has to be able to be illustrated with photos—it’s not like we’re just pointing a webcam at me playing the guitar. Some songs come across better in the “French video” format than others.
It would be fun to try next “Leavin’ It to Beaver,” a song I wrote over 30 years ago when I was rhythm guitarist for the Dodson Drifters. It’s only been recorded once, on that first, limited-distribution album that had just me and solo guitar. The song does get requested now and then, though, like some other songs the Dodson Drifters made famous. It would be easy to “video-ify”—but it is a long song, over 6 minutes without a lead break. (It’s a fast song, too—requires some very strategic breathing.) Could “Alice” the ‘puter handle something like that? Could I?
The discussion, I think, could be about INSPIRATION—where it comes from (like I know where it comes from), and how one can take advantage of it. Like they say on TV, stay tuned.
Joe
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
RECORDING & SOUTHERN PIGFISH...
John says Dick’s harmonica parts on both “No Good Songs About the War” and “For Their own Ends” are perfect. One part down. Still need to record the lead guitar, for which I think I’ll use the Strat—gives the sound engineer (John) better control. He’d like to record the lead guitar four times and then mix and match pieces from the four leads. Him da boss. He said he’ll make sure we have “No Good Songs About the War” done in time to send to England for the Dylan-wannabe contest. (Deadline is the end of August.)
I had an idea for the band for the Southern Pigfish album. The new music teacher for the school district had created, over an 8-week period this summer, three middle-school rock bands from scratch; they performed at Garibaldi Days, and were quite good (one band was very good). Would they—or any of them—be interested in “being” Southern Pigfish for the album? I wanted to use total unknowns, and an impromptu band of middle-school rockers is about as unknown as one can get. Figured it was worth asking. (No answer yet.)
Said music teacher also happens to have a recording studio. I don’t plan to use it for the Joe Album; John’s got the recording equipment now, and is having too much fun with it (and getting excited about its possibilities). It’s fair game for Southern Pigfish, though—a band that doesn’t exist can record anywhere, right? The important thing is being able to do it for no money. I have no money.
What I have for the Southern Pigfish album at present is:
For their Own Ends (title cut)
Bedpans for Brains (which really needs to be a music video)
Vampire Roumanian Babies
Love Trails of the Zombie Snails
Test Tube Baby (the old Dodson Drifters hit from the 1970s)
--and just maybe the Norwegian Black/Death Metal song, “Evil Dead Fairies in My Mobile Home.” “Bedpans for Brains” is the only country music song, and it can be rocked up easily—our band could do it. In a pinch—if it were necessary (or possible) to do the album right away—I could add:
When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You
Rotten Candy
Born Again Barbie (if co-writer Scott Rose is willing)
“Cliff” has been recorded by a rock ‘n’ roll fellow, and it came out real well (I played lead on the recording); it may have been written as a bluegrass number, but it crosses genres well—it’s even been done as electronica, by Jerry Miller (dba zonemusicinc), and that’s my favorite version. I expect “Rotten Candy” would rock well, too—and I could include that sticker that proclaims “Includes The Song Rejected By American Idol!”. That would fit the whole mystique of Southern Pigfish, I think. The “Barbie” song is rock ‘n’ roll, too (Scott was a rock guitarist), and I’ve scripted that one out as a music video, too—using (what else?) a cast of Barbies. I have a crateful in the garage.
That’s nine songs, just barely enough for an album. As time goes on, I’m sure I’ll have more. Southern Pigfish are too good an outlet for the really weird stuff.
OTHER STUFF: I haven’t managed to make the webcam record on the laptop, and I don’t know why. I’ll switch it back to “Alice” the desktop, and try some of the things I learned working with the laptop, and see if the change in “venue” makes a difference. Otherwise, I’ll have to write off the webcam as a bad investment, and see if I can do the “Joe Show” a different way. I have a video to do for Performing Songwriters, too.
Joe
I had an idea for the band for the Southern Pigfish album. The new music teacher for the school district had created, over an 8-week period this summer, three middle-school rock bands from scratch; they performed at Garibaldi Days, and were quite good (one band was very good). Would they—or any of them—be interested in “being” Southern Pigfish for the album? I wanted to use total unknowns, and an impromptu band of middle-school rockers is about as unknown as one can get. Figured it was worth asking. (No answer yet.)
Said music teacher also happens to have a recording studio. I don’t plan to use it for the Joe Album; John’s got the recording equipment now, and is having too much fun with it (and getting excited about its possibilities). It’s fair game for Southern Pigfish, though—a band that doesn’t exist can record anywhere, right? The important thing is being able to do it for no money. I have no money.
What I have for the Southern Pigfish album at present is:
For their Own Ends (title cut)
Bedpans for Brains (which really needs to be a music video)
Vampire Roumanian Babies
Love Trails of the Zombie Snails
Test Tube Baby (the old Dodson Drifters hit from the 1970s)
--and just maybe the Norwegian Black/Death Metal song, “Evil Dead Fairies in My Mobile Home.” “Bedpans for Brains” is the only country music song, and it can be rocked up easily—our band could do it. In a pinch—if it were necessary (or possible) to do the album right away—I could add:
When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You
Rotten Candy
Born Again Barbie (if co-writer Scott Rose is willing)
“Cliff” has been recorded by a rock ‘n’ roll fellow, and it came out real well (I played lead on the recording); it may have been written as a bluegrass number, but it crosses genres well—it’s even been done as electronica, by Jerry Miller (dba zonemusicinc), and that’s my favorite version. I expect “Rotten Candy” would rock well, too—and I could include that sticker that proclaims “Includes The Song Rejected By American Idol!”. That would fit the whole mystique of Southern Pigfish, I think. The “Barbie” song is rock ‘n’ roll, too (Scott was a rock guitarist), and I’ve scripted that one out as a music video, too—using (what else?) a cast of Barbies. I have a crateful in the garage.
That’s nine songs, just barely enough for an album. As time goes on, I’m sure I’ll have more. Southern Pigfish are too good an outlet for the really weird stuff.
OTHER STUFF: I haven’t managed to make the webcam record on the laptop, and I don’t know why. I’ll switch it back to “Alice” the desktop, and try some of the things I learned working with the laptop, and see if the change in “venue” makes a difference. Otherwise, I’ll have to write off the webcam as a bad investment, and see if I can do the “Joe Show” a different way. I have a video to do for Performing Songwriters, too.
Joe
Sunday, August 16, 2009
MORE UPDATES...
TWO COMPUTERS running simultaneously! I feel positively 21st century… The laptop (which doesn’t have a name yet) now has the webcam installed, and it appears to be working; I need to do a test before taking it to band practice. I’ve had two computer experts (John here, and Al David in Chicago) tell me the video file from the laptop is transferrable to and useable by “Alice” the desktop. I’ll use the little flash drive for the transferring. The goal is to get some footage of the band—especially of Dick playing harmonica—that would be useable in a music video.
I have proposed to Life’s Subtle Tease (the burlesque troupe) using them as the cast for the music video of the Southern Pigfish song, “Bedpans for Brains,” and also raised with John using our band for the music. John’s okay with it. No word from the burlesquers—but I know some of them have been busy all week with a film project. (And they all have jobs. I don’t.) The burlesque troupe are supposed to do a short promotional performance a week from now, as a teaser for the Big Show on 26 September at the Hawthorne Theater—but I’m not clear yet what it is we’re going to perform. These guys and gals may be a lot more improvisational than I am; I don’t go on stage without knowing—and having rehearsed almost to death—exactly what I’m going to sing and to say.
“Love Trails of the Zombie Snails” did get performed in public, finally—with the Friday Night Group. It is hard to sing in the key I picked for this, and I might try a different one next time (if there is a next time)—but I need a key that’ll let me keep to a rock ‘n’ roll rhythm, rather than a country one. I don’t know if the song will get requested again—but people in the audience were dancing to it.
Fred, one of our Friday Night Group musicians, asked if he could start performing some of my songs—to which the answer is “Of course.” The more exposure the better—and Fred has a good singing voice. His harmonies on “Milepost 43” (the song about Al David’s missing underwear) were sweet.
Fred is another resource I could probably call on for the album. (It’d be nice to have some female backup singers, too.) Add him to “Chippewa Bob” on the saw, and Denise on the Jews’ harp, and Wayne on lead guitar. We have, too, one of the best fiddle players I’ve ever met—a retired concert violinist—who’s spending the summer here at the Coast. (She’s been coming to play every Friday night.) It’d be fun to use her, too (though I don’t know how long “summer” is going to last). I don’t want to overload John by maximizing resources—each additional instrument probably adds an hour or so to recording time, and I know he doesn’t have a whole lot of time.
I keep thinking of more fun things to do with the webcam—and I haven’t even tried recording anything with it yet. Having mated the webcam up with the laptop, I can take it anywhere. I could record the Friday Night Group doing one of my songs, for instance. I’d be dependent on whatever the webcam’s little microphone picked up (unless I hooked up a remote mike), but the Friday Night Group’s PA system is pretty good—there’d be pretty good sound to pick up. I could do the same with the Saturday afternoon performers at the Tillamook Library, when they start playing again in September. The library has an excellent sound system, with speakers in the ceiling.
I still don’t know what we’re going to do for a lead player for the concerts in October. We may have access to a piano/keyboard player (husband of John’s assistant at City Hall), but he lives an hour’s drive away from here. That could be a little problematic—but we can try him out playing lead on some of the tunes we want to record for the album, and see how it fits.
UPDATES: More rejection letters in the mail (I’ve stopped trying to file them—the stack is getting so tall it’s discouraging). No word from the last three jobs I was interviewed for. No word, either, from the Jade Lounge in Portland, where I’d applied (as with the Airway Café) to be solo entertainment; I have to assume they are simply not interested. Sometimes I wonder if there’s any point—and then I wonder if my lack of success is simply because I haven’t been pushing hard enough.
Joe
I have proposed to Life’s Subtle Tease (the burlesque troupe) using them as the cast for the music video of the Southern Pigfish song, “Bedpans for Brains,” and also raised with John using our band for the music. John’s okay with it. No word from the burlesquers—but I know some of them have been busy all week with a film project. (And they all have jobs. I don’t.) The burlesque troupe are supposed to do a short promotional performance a week from now, as a teaser for the Big Show on 26 September at the Hawthorne Theater—but I’m not clear yet what it is we’re going to perform. These guys and gals may be a lot more improvisational than I am; I don’t go on stage without knowing—and having rehearsed almost to death—exactly what I’m going to sing and to say.
“Love Trails of the Zombie Snails” did get performed in public, finally—with the Friday Night Group. It is hard to sing in the key I picked for this, and I might try a different one next time (if there is a next time)—but I need a key that’ll let me keep to a rock ‘n’ roll rhythm, rather than a country one. I don’t know if the song will get requested again—but people in the audience were dancing to it.
Fred, one of our Friday Night Group musicians, asked if he could start performing some of my songs—to which the answer is “Of course.” The more exposure the better—and Fred has a good singing voice. His harmonies on “Milepost 43” (the song about Al David’s missing underwear) were sweet.
Fred is another resource I could probably call on for the album. (It’d be nice to have some female backup singers, too.) Add him to “Chippewa Bob” on the saw, and Denise on the Jews’ harp, and Wayne on lead guitar. We have, too, one of the best fiddle players I’ve ever met—a retired concert violinist—who’s spending the summer here at the Coast. (She’s been coming to play every Friday night.) It’d be fun to use her, too (though I don’t know how long “summer” is going to last). I don’t want to overload John by maximizing resources—each additional instrument probably adds an hour or so to recording time, and I know he doesn’t have a whole lot of time.
I keep thinking of more fun things to do with the webcam—and I haven’t even tried recording anything with it yet. Having mated the webcam up with the laptop, I can take it anywhere. I could record the Friday Night Group doing one of my songs, for instance. I’d be dependent on whatever the webcam’s little microphone picked up (unless I hooked up a remote mike), but the Friday Night Group’s PA system is pretty good—there’d be pretty good sound to pick up. I could do the same with the Saturday afternoon performers at the Tillamook Library, when they start playing again in September. The library has an excellent sound system, with speakers in the ceiling.
I still don’t know what we’re going to do for a lead player for the concerts in October. We may have access to a piano/keyboard player (husband of John’s assistant at City Hall), but he lives an hour’s drive away from here. That could be a little problematic—but we can try him out playing lead on some of the tunes we want to record for the album, and see how it fits.
UPDATES: More rejection letters in the mail (I’ve stopped trying to file them—the stack is getting so tall it’s discouraging). No word from the last three jobs I was interviewed for. No word, either, from the Jade Lounge in Portland, where I’d applied (as with the Airway Café) to be solo entertainment; I have to assume they are simply not interested. Sometimes I wonder if there’s any point—and then I wonder if my lack of success is simply because I haven’t been pushing hard enough.
Joe
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
I HAVE A WEBCAM...
I have a webcam—cute li’l thing, looks like a miniature R2D2 on a tripod. (For the same $15 price, I could’ve got a “Hello Kitty” one, but I decided there were limits to how much cuteness I could tolerate.) I have installed the software, but not—yet—the camera itself. For a computer programmer, I am awfully paranoid about technology.
I have scripted out the first episode of “The Joe Show,” and we’ll see how the recording comes out. I don’t know how much time the “speech” part will take; I used to know this stuff back when I was a lobbyist, and was delivering sound bites to TV cameras and testimony to Congressional committees, but I no longer remember—it’s been too long. I might have sufficient “speech” in what I’ve written for several episodes, for all I know. I don’t want the “speech” to take up more time than the song; the song, after all, is going to be the focus of these videoblogs. So that limits me to a 3.5-to-5-miunute “speech.” Preferably shorter.
I have seen (thanks, Lorelei) rather competently produced videoblogs showing off the details of producing an album. It’s a nice idea, but I don’t know if I could pull something like that off. On the other hand, I do have the laptop (Windows Vista and all), and I could install the webcam on that, too, and it could go places. It might not be too hard to film the band recording—or even the Friday Night Group, for that matter.
The point of exercises like that, I think, is the interactivity with The Folks Out There. We’re de-mystifying life. An album isn’t this mysterious thing that sprung full-grown from someone’s forehead; it’s real work by real people over a period of time. Would the album be a more attractive acquisition if people knew more about what went into it? What if one encouraged feedback?
Release (well, it’s on Soundclick) of “Love Trails of the Zombie Snails” prompted the inevitable round of “where do you come up with this stuff?” questions. It’s tempting to say I don’t know, but that’s not precisely true. I do have an idea how the mind (mine, anyway) works.
Music reflects life. That means that what I wrote, no matter how strange, is attempting to reflect something going on in my private life. It’ll tend to be strange because my reflections are rather, well, murky. So what’s going on? Well, I can’t be sure, but I’d hazard a guess that I’m being bothered by being unemployed a long time, being just about out of money, not having really made it as a musician, and being 59 years old. I want to do something meaningful with my life, something important—even if it’s (say) taking my girlfriend to Antarctica to rescue trapped scientists from the feared zombie snails.
I am again confronted with the connection between Inspiration and Pain. If life were too comfortable—if I were too happy—I wouldn’t be thinking up this stuff.
There is reason, I think, even for the “window-dressing” details. Antarctica? Well, it does roll trippingly off the tongue—but I’m also a relatively inoffensive person, and Antarctica is one place you can talk about without offending anyone. Antarctica is like the Internet—it’s owned by no one, controlled by no one, and there’s no one really there. Snails? Well, one usually doesn’t connect snails with Antarctica, because snails are cold-blooded. That just underscores that what’s being discussed here is pure fantasy.
(That, of course, was before I learned about the “snow snails.” There really are such things, apparently; they have been known to appear right before avalanches. They’ve even been photographed. That means there are probably snow snails in Antarctica, too—the place being, well, snowy and all. Who’d have thunk?)
UPDATES: The job interview went well—but there are over 30 people applying for just 3 jobs. I don’t know if I’ll be one of the winners. Music Friday and Saturday this week, and recording—I hope—on Sunday. Just two weeks to get that Dylan contest entry to England.
Joe
I have scripted out the first episode of “The Joe Show,” and we’ll see how the recording comes out. I don’t know how much time the “speech” part will take; I used to know this stuff back when I was a lobbyist, and was delivering sound bites to TV cameras and testimony to Congressional committees, but I no longer remember—it’s been too long. I might have sufficient “speech” in what I’ve written for several episodes, for all I know. I don’t want the “speech” to take up more time than the song; the song, after all, is going to be the focus of these videoblogs. So that limits me to a 3.5-to-5-miunute “speech.” Preferably shorter.
I have seen (thanks, Lorelei) rather competently produced videoblogs showing off the details of producing an album. It’s a nice idea, but I don’t know if I could pull something like that off. On the other hand, I do have the laptop (Windows Vista and all), and I could install the webcam on that, too, and it could go places. It might not be too hard to film the band recording—or even the Friday Night Group, for that matter.
The point of exercises like that, I think, is the interactivity with The Folks Out There. We’re de-mystifying life. An album isn’t this mysterious thing that sprung full-grown from someone’s forehead; it’s real work by real people over a period of time. Would the album be a more attractive acquisition if people knew more about what went into it? What if one encouraged feedback?
Release (well, it’s on Soundclick) of “Love Trails of the Zombie Snails” prompted the inevitable round of “where do you come up with this stuff?” questions. It’s tempting to say I don’t know, but that’s not precisely true. I do have an idea how the mind (mine, anyway) works.
Music reflects life. That means that what I wrote, no matter how strange, is attempting to reflect something going on in my private life. It’ll tend to be strange because my reflections are rather, well, murky. So what’s going on? Well, I can’t be sure, but I’d hazard a guess that I’m being bothered by being unemployed a long time, being just about out of money, not having really made it as a musician, and being 59 years old. I want to do something meaningful with my life, something important—even if it’s (say) taking my girlfriend to Antarctica to rescue trapped scientists from the feared zombie snails.
I am again confronted with the connection between Inspiration and Pain. If life were too comfortable—if I were too happy—I wouldn’t be thinking up this stuff.
There is reason, I think, even for the “window-dressing” details. Antarctica? Well, it does roll trippingly off the tongue—but I’m also a relatively inoffensive person, and Antarctica is one place you can talk about without offending anyone. Antarctica is like the Internet—it’s owned by no one, controlled by no one, and there’s no one really there. Snails? Well, one usually doesn’t connect snails with Antarctica, because snails are cold-blooded. That just underscores that what’s being discussed here is pure fantasy.
(That, of course, was before I learned about the “snow snails.” There really are such things, apparently; they have been known to appear right before avalanches. They’ve even been photographed. That means there are probably snow snails in Antarctica, too—the place being, well, snowy and all. Who’d have thunk?)
UPDATES: The job interview went well—but there are over 30 people applying for just 3 jobs. I don’t know if I’ll be one of the winners. Music Friday and Saturday this week, and recording—I hope—on Sunday. Just two weeks to get that Dylan contest entry to England.
Joe
Sunday, August 9, 2009
AND THE ALBUM...
Wife Sandee and a girlfriend are on vacation this week, hitting the square dance circuit, and the dog and I are, well, doing whatever it’s possible to do with lots of time and no money. Burlesque show cast meeting tonight, job interview Tuesday, “Love Trails of the Zombie Snails” to record, a video to script out, and a webcam and flash drive to score if I can find ‘em cheap. I’ll be busy.
Latest spate of mail (which included only one rejection letter) reminded me that for over a year, I’ve been on other people’s schedules—avoiding or postponing doing things because I’ve been waiting to see what somebody else (usually somebody I’ve applied for a job with) is going to do. It’s time to stop that. I should simply pick out what I want to do, and do it. To do otherwise is to waste time—and I consider wasting time an Unforgivable Sin. I had more control of my life when I was working for somebody else.
I’ll have to press and prod (because my band members have less time than I do), but I want the new album done before Christmas. It consists of 12 songs:
Dead Things in the Shower (mod. fast two-step)
Armadillo on the Interstate (slow & sleazy)
The Termite Song (fast bluegrass)
Tillamook Railroad Blues (slow, deliberate blues)
Free-Range Person (fast bluegrass)
No Good Songs About the War (mod. slow two-step)
Rotten Candy (fast bluegrass, with a Gospel beat)
Hey, Little Chicken (mod. slow almost blues)
Doing Battle with the Lawn (fast bluegrass)
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues (slow & sleazy)
Un-Easy Street (mod. slow two-step)
Naked Space Hamsters in Love (fast bluegrass)
One blues, a couple almost-blues, some bluegrass, some country, one that’d be Gospel if it weren’t talking about one’s girlfriend leaving. Some dead animals, and some live aliens. None of the songs is really serious, but a couple sound serious. There’s a couple of co-writes that fit in well with my own material. (I’ll have to pay copyright royalties.) A smidgen of continuity—there’s one song from the last album, and one from the first album, six years ago. (People are still requesting it—a lot. My stuff tends to remain popular, I guess.)
The band does all of the songs real well, and they have a lot of fun doing it. They tend to rock the songs up (hardly a surprise—the bass player and drummer are both from heavy-metal backgrounds), but It sounds good when they do it.
John will do the recording. (He’s got some nice equipment now.) We’ll do a live “base” track—drums, bass, rhythm guitar, and my vocal—overlay lead instruments, and then John will do the mixing.
We can’t have Dick’s blues harp lead on everything, because we won’t be able to record every song before he and wife Carol go on their big trip. We’ll be limited to just what we can get done in the next two weeks. I’d pick “No Good Songs About the War” (which we want to enter in the English Dylan contest), “Tillamook Railroad Blues” and “Armadillo on the Interstate”; we’ll fudge for the rest.
Though I seem to know quite a few musicians—guitar, gbanjo (6-string banjo), fiddle, accordion, musical saw, and Jews’ harp, and they all live in Garibaldi—I want to keep things simple. One “whiny” lead and one “non-whiny” lead on each song is enough. Chippewa Bob’s saw can substitute for the harmonica on some of the songs, and the Jews’ harp would be a nice addition to some of the bluegrass ones; both can be done with some special effects. I can use Wayne’s country-barroom guitar lead on some of the songs, and do lead myself on the rest. It’ll be enough.
Simultaneously, I can’t stop pressing and prodding for gigs. When the album comes out, I want to be well-known enough so a lot of people will immediately be buying a lot of copies. Performing is about the only way to do it.
Joe
Latest spate of mail (which included only one rejection letter) reminded me that for over a year, I’ve been on other people’s schedules—avoiding or postponing doing things because I’ve been waiting to see what somebody else (usually somebody I’ve applied for a job with) is going to do. It’s time to stop that. I should simply pick out what I want to do, and do it. To do otherwise is to waste time—and I consider wasting time an Unforgivable Sin. I had more control of my life when I was working for somebody else.
I’ll have to press and prod (because my band members have less time than I do), but I want the new album done before Christmas. It consists of 12 songs:
Dead Things in the Shower (mod. fast two-step)
Armadillo on the Interstate (slow & sleazy)
The Termite Song (fast bluegrass)
Tillamook Railroad Blues (slow, deliberate blues)
Free-Range Person (fast bluegrass)
No Good Songs About the War (mod. slow two-step)
Rotten Candy (fast bluegrass, with a Gospel beat)
Hey, Little Chicken (mod. slow almost blues)
Doing Battle with the Lawn (fast bluegrass)
Eatin’ Cornflakes from a Hubcap Blues (slow & sleazy)
Un-Easy Street (mod. slow two-step)
Naked Space Hamsters in Love (fast bluegrass)
One blues, a couple almost-blues, some bluegrass, some country, one that’d be Gospel if it weren’t talking about one’s girlfriend leaving. Some dead animals, and some live aliens. None of the songs is really serious, but a couple sound serious. There’s a couple of co-writes that fit in well with my own material. (I’ll have to pay copyright royalties.) A smidgen of continuity—there’s one song from the last album, and one from the first album, six years ago. (People are still requesting it—a lot. My stuff tends to remain popular, I guess.)
The band does all of the songs real well, and they have a lot of fun doing it. They tend to rock the songs up (hardly a surprise—the bass player and drummer are both from heavy-metal backgrounds), but It sounds good when they do it.
John will do the recording. (He’s got some nice equipment now.) We’ll do a live “base” track—drums, bass, rhythm guitar, and my vocal—overlay lead instruments, and then John will do the mixing.
We can’t have Dick’s blues harp lead on everything, because we won’t be able to record every song before he and wife Carol go on their big trip. We’ll be limited to just what we can get done in the next two weeks. I’d pick “No Good Songs About the War” (which we want to enter in the English Dylan contest), “Tillamook Railroad Blues” and “Armadillo on the Interstate”; we’ll fudge for the rest.
Though I seem to know quite a few musicians—guitar, gbanjo (6-string banjo), fiddle, accordion, musical saw, and Jews’ harp, and they all live in Garibaldi—I want to keep things simple. One “whiny” lead and one “non-whiny” lead on each song is enough. Chippewa Bob’s saw can substitute for the harmonica on some of the songs, and the Jews’ harp would be a nice addition to some of the bluegrass ones; both can be done with some special effects. I can use Wayne’s country-barroom guitar lead on some of the songs, and do lead myself on the rest. It’ll be enough.
Simultaneously, I can’t stop pressing and prodding for gigs. When the album comes out, I want to be well-known enough so a lot of people will immediately be buying a lot of copies. Performing is about the only way to do it.
Joe
Friday, August 7, 2009
FIRST STEPS TOWARD A VLOG...
Saw my second “Lorelei Loveridge—World Traveling Songwriter” video yesterday, and it did generate some ideas. Roughly the first half was just talk, interspersed with photos of her trip to Spain; second half was a song, just her on solo guitar. The photography work was simple but nice and clear. (Good webcam.)
Could I do something like this? Probably; it wouldn’t take a huge investment in technology—I had a cheap-but-good webcam once, and bet I could find another. Windows Movie Maker is nothing-special software, but I have it, and I know how to use it. And interspersing slides with video might even be a bit simpler than simultaneously coordinating slides, soundtrack, and text overlays.
A lot of folks are doing “vlogs” now. There’s a chance that vlogs could get more attention than the standard written blog, because we have become such a visual society. “The Writer’s Blog” these days takes just a short session at the word processor, but a vlog would involve substantially more effort and time. I’d still have to write it—I have to work from a script—then rehearse the script until I have it memorized (just like the Raps I do at performances), film myself, insert photos and add text as needed.
A potentially important use of the vlog would be to showcase songs. New songs especially; people don’t get to hear my new songs unless they go to a concert, or check my Soundclick page, and people don’t do that often or right away. Even the Friday Night Group don’t get to hear new songs very often, because too many people are requesting too many of the old ones. I could get additional exposure because the inclusion of songs would appeal to fans, who would tune in for the music—right now, they’re mostly not reading the written blog every week.
The “Joe Show” vlog would need to be weekly; the same rule applies as with blogs and Websites—you need to give people something new every week, so they keep coming back. Now, I don’t usually have a good new song every week, and I don’t plan on forcing myself to write one every week; if I average one good song a month, I’m satisfied. That means about ¾ of the time, the “Joe Show” would be showcasing old material. That would be okay, too. People don’t get to hear the old stuff often enough.
Would I still be doing the written “Writer’s Blog”? Yes. The “Joe Show,” because of the inclusion of songs, would have to be organized differently. I think what I’d do is pick a song, and in the narrative part—just a couple of minutes, so we don’t get boring—talk about some aspect of writing that ties into the song. That’s possible to do—when I both performed and taught a songwriting seminar at the “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival, every song in my performance setlist illustrated a point I’d brought out in the class.
The garage studio strikes me as the perfect place to do this; it’s comfy, if small, and an interestingly funky space with its open-beam walls and decorative vase of obviously plastic flowers. Better than the computer room in the house, where I’ve been doing most of my recording the past year. I’d have to rig up a separate computer in the garage studio (but—surprise! I happen to have one), and it wouldn’t be on line—Internet in the house is too far away. However, I could dump the video to a flash drive (add that to the purchase list) for posting online. It might not be too hard.
Something else I could do with the vlog—another idea picked up online—is invite people to do their own artistic things to those songs. I don’t care (I’d like to see what they do, though)—like Woody Guthrie said once, what I cared about was writin’ ‘em, and since I’m a writer, I’m going to write more. Sure, some of those songs I’ll record professionally with a band and put on a record, and I’ll be trying to sell the record—but a vlog recording of me and solo guitar? Go have at it, and see what you can do with it.
Okay, so on my way back from the job interview in Salem Tuesday (yes! another one), I’ll stop by an electronics wholesaler I know and see if it’s possible to get a webcam and flash drive. They’d have to be cheap—but they might be.
Joe
Could I do something like this? Probably; it wouldn’t take a huge investment in technology—I had a cheap-but-good webcam once, and bet I could find another. Windows Movie Maker is nothing-special software, but I have it, and I know how to use it. And interspersing slides with video might even be a bit simpler than simultaneously coordinating slides, soundtrack, and text overlays.
A lot of folks are doing “vlogs” now. There’s a chance that vlogs could get more attention than the standard written blog, because we have become such a visual society. “The Writer’s Blog” these days takes just a short session at the word processor, but a vlog would involve substantially more effort and time. I’d still have to write it—I have to work from a script—then rehearse the script until I have it memorized (just like the Raps I do at performances), film myself, insert photos and add text as needed.
A potentially important use of the vlog would be to showcase songs. New songs especially; people don’t get to hear my new songs unless they go to a concert, or check my Soundclick page, and people don’t do that often or right away. Even the Friday Night Group don’t get to hear new songs very often, because too many people are requesting too many of the old ones. I could get additional exposure because the inclusion of songs would appeal to fans, who would tune in for the music—right now, they’re mostly not reading the written blog every week.
The “Joe Show” vlog would need to be weekly; the same rule applies as with blogs and Websites—you need to give people something new every week, so they keep coming back. Now, I don’t usually have a good new song every week, and I don’t plan on forcing myself to write one every week; if I average one good song a month, I’m satisfied. That means about ¾ of the time, the “Joe Show” would be showcasing old material. That would be okay, too. People don’t get to hear the old stuff often enough.
Would I still be doing the written “Writer’s Blog”? Yes. The “Joe Show,” because of the inclusion of songs, would have to be organized differently. I think what I’d do is pick a song, and in the narrative part—just a couple of minutes, so we don’t get boring—talk about some aspect of writing that ties into the song. That’s possible to do—when I both performed and taught a songwriting seminar at the “Moograss” Bluegrass Festival, every song in my performance setlist illustrated a point I’d brought out in the class.
The garage studio strikes me as the perfect place to do this; it’s comfy, if small, and an interestingly funky space with its open-beam walls and decorative vase of obviously plastic flowers. Better than the computer room in the house, where I’ve been doing most of my recording the past year. I’d have to rig up a separate computer in the garage studio (but—surprise! I happen to have one), and it wouldn’t be on line—Internet in the house is too far away. However, I could dump the video to a flash drive (add that to the purchase list) for posting online. It might not be too hard.
Something else I could do with the vlog—another idea picked up online—is invite people to do their own artistic things to those songs. I don’t care (I’d like to see what they do, though)—like Woody Guthrie said once, what I cared about was writin’ ‘em, and since I’m a writer, I’m going to write more. Sure, some of those songs I’ll record professionally with a band and put on a record, and I’ll be trying to sell the record—but a vlog recording of me and solo guitar? Go have at it, and see what you can do with it.
Okay, so on my way back from the job interview in Salem Tuesday (yes! another one), I’ll stop by an electronics wholesaler I know and see if it’s possible to get a webcam and flash drive. They’d have to be cheap—but they might be.
Joe
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
PITCHING TO A PUBLISHER...
Today I am pitching songs to a Nashville publisher—or seeing if I can. I got the invitation a couple of days ago. It’s not a big thing—I noticed a couple dozen other people got the same e-mail—but it’s not often one gets invited over to the bigger kids’ sandbox, so I’ll try to play.
The publisher says he’s looking for material to pitch to 21 different artists who are lining out albums. Only four of them are names I recognize, but that’s not surprising. One is brand-new—an Indiana kid who just got signed to a major label (the hometown newspaper did a front-page article).
One by one, I am going through their Websites or MySpace pages (some have both), to see what they sound like, what kinds of subjects they sing about, their styles, and the general attitudes they convey. All those things are presumably important. A guy who has done exclusively sappy love songs (or sappy praise songs) is probably not going to cover “Dirty Deeds We Done to Sheep,” for instance. I’m listening only to the uptempo stuff. Nashville, I’ve been told, is not interested in any more “power ballads.” Everybody’s got dozens of them.
Now, one can’t expect a whole lot out of this exercise. It’s like those old million-dollar Publishers Clearing House checks from the late Ed McMahon—looks neat, but it’s not a good idea to go buy stuff with it. Most of these 21 artists probably write or co-write nearly all of their own material—that’s the fashion these days, even in country music. What the publisher wants to do is tell the artist, “Dude! Check this out—this sounds JUST LIKE YOU!” If the song is really, really good, the artist may use it on the album instead of one of his own. The song needs to be good enough so the artist will want it on his album so it doesn’t get on somebody else’s.
And of course, there are dozens of publishers besides this one, all doing the same thing to these 21 artists. And the writers they’re pitching mostly live in Nashville, and have some Connections. I don’t.
I have envisioned each of the artists performing my songs, with the backup band he or she has (in some cases, the artist is a band, and the song needs to be able to accommodate all the instruments in the band). I can’t imagine these guys, girls or bands doing a lot of my songs. Dead animals just ain’t their style. Neither is the quirky stuff. (Modern country artists are awfully conventional.) Still, there are some pitchable ones. “Duct Tape” and “Bluebird on My Windshield” would work for the guys who sing about country themes (yes, folks are still writing about Mother, trucks, trains, farms, prison, and so on). The love-in-a-barroom folks could be interested in “Cuddle in the Darkness.” There’s even a few on the list I could see doing “When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You.” And “Rotten Candy,” of course—that was written to be commercial, and would fit a lot of these folks.
The publisher will be the one deciding whom to pitch what (if any) songs to. I send my stuff to the publisher. I’m not sure if I should make any suggestions or not; the publisher presumably knows all these people way better’n me.
Some of the songs need to be dressed up a bit for pitching. No “worktapes”—we need demos. Songs from the last album would work as demos—but I may want to re-record some of them anyway. That album was done with a bluegrass band, and most of these 21 artists do “modern country,” a lot closer to rock ‘n’ roll. I can see them saying, “But I don’t do bluegrass music.” (So little imagination these days among supposedly creative people.) But I can re-do the songs with a country band—I just happen to be playing with one, and we have the ability to record. So while we’re recording the new album, I want to also record the songs abovementioned.
I do have one I can fire off right away: “Cuddle in the Darkness.” That was done with just rhythm guitar (me), fiddle and standup bass, and the arrangement would work well in a wide range of genres. It doesn’t need to be changed. It’s not too slow (most of my stuff is not slow), and you can dance to it. The rest of the pitchables will take a little time to re-do, but at least I’ve got something I can send immediately.
I doubt I’d have gotten that e-mail if the publisher didn’t want the stuff right away. (And the lesson there? Always be ready. Like lobbyist Bruce Vincent used to say, “The world is run by those who show up.”)
Joe
The publisher says he’s looking for material to pitch to 21 different artists who are lining out albums. Only four of them are names I recognize, but that’s not surprising. One is brand-new—an Indiana kid who just got signed to a major label (the hometown newspaper did a front-page article).
One by one, I am going through their Websites or MySpace pages (some have both), to see what they sound like, what kinds of subjects they sing about, their styles, and the general attitudes they convey. All those things are presumably important. A guy who has done exclusively sappy love songs (or sappy praise songs) is probably not going to cover “Dirty Deeds We Done to Sheep,” for instance. I’m listening only to the uptempo stuff. Nashville, I’ve been told, is not interested in any more “power ballads.” Everybody’s got dozens of them.
Now, one can’t expect a whole lot out of this exercise. It’s like those old million-dollar Publishers Clearing House checks from the late Ed McMahon—looks neat, but it’s not a good idea to go buy stuff with it. Most of these 21 artists probably write or co-write nearly all of their own material—that’s the fashion these days, even in country music. What the publisher wants to do is tell the artist, “Dude! Check this out—this sounds JUST LIKE YOU!” If the song is really, really good, the artist may use it on the album instead of one of his own. The song needs to be good enough so the artist will want it on his album so it doesn’t get on somebody else’s.
And of course, there are dozens of publishers besides this one, all doing the same thing to these 21 artists. And the writers they’re pitching mostly live in Nashville, and have some Connections. I don’t.
I have envisioned each of the artists performing my songs, with the backup band he or she has (in some cases, the artist is a band, and the song needs to be able to accommodate all the instruments in the band). I can’t imagine these guys, girls or bands doing a lot of my songs. Dead animals just ain’t their style. Neither is the quirky stuff. (Modern country artists are awfully conventional.) Still, there are some pitchable ones. “Duct Tape” and “Bluebird on My Windshield” would work for the guys who sing about country themes (yes, folks are still writing about Mother, trucks, trains, farms, prison, and so on). The love-in-a-barroom folks could be interested in “Cuddle in the Darkness.” There’s even a few on the list I could see doing “When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You.” And “Rotten Candy,” of course—that was written to be commercial, and would fit a lot of these folks.
The publisher will be the one deciding whom to pitch what (if any) songs to. I send my stuff to the publisher. I’m not sure if I should make any suggestions or not; the publisher presumably knows all these people way better’n me.
Some of the songs need to be dressed up a bit for pitching. No “worktapes”—we need demos. Songs from the last album would work as demos—but I may want to re-record some of them anyway. That album was done with a bluegrass band, and most of these 21 artists do “modern country,” a lot closer to rock ‘n’ roll. I can see them saying, “But I don’t do bluegrass music.” (So little imagination these days among supposedly creative people.) But I can re-do the songs with a country band—I just happen to be playing with one, and we have the ability to record. So while we’re recording the new album, I want to also record the songs abovementioned.
I do have one I can fire off right away: “Cuddle in the Darkness.” That was done with just rhythm guitar (me), fiddle and standup bass, and the arrangement would work well in a wide range of genres. It doesn’t need to be changed. It’s not too slow (most of my stuff is not slow), and you can dance to it. The rest of the pitchables will take a little time to re-do, but at least I’ve got something I can send immediately.
I doubt I’d have gotten that e-mail if the publisher didn’t want the stuff right away. (And the lesson there? Always be ready. Like lobbyist Bruce Vincent used to say, “The world is run by those who show up.”)
Joe
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
CENTRAL POINT CONCERT CANCELLED...
The 22 August concert in Central Point has been cancelled. I guess it’s a good thing I hadn’t sent out notices yet. Hard not to be bummed about it. There is a plus side: I won’t be gone for five or so days, I will save the money I’d have spent on the trip, and I can do something else. However, I am going to miss everybody. My only excuses for visiting southern Oregon this summer have been job interviews. Unless the City of Gold Hill calls me for a city-manager interview (and I am not expecting them to), I won’t be going down again for a while.
Whatever will I do? Oh, there’s plenty. A quick work list:
The band needs a lead player before we can do any more shows. Dick will be gone several months, he thinks. FIND ONE. That’s an opportunity to go visit some other venues, local festivals, and open mikes, and see what might be available. We have two performances possible in October, I think—the Neskowin Harvest Festival (a benefit) and that local-musicians thing the music teacher is organizing—but we can’t do it as a trio.
There’s the Dylan-wannabe contest in England to get the entry done for; deadline is the end of August, and I don’t know how long it takes to get something to England in the mail. We have the “base track” (rhythm guitar, vocal, bass and drums) done, I think, though I haven’t heard John’s final copy; need to overlay Dick’s blues harp (before he leaves town) and my guitar leads. Could probably be done in a day.
And there’s THE ALBUM. I’m not sure how interested the band are in recording—they are really interested in performing. I think the argument I’d use is we need some recorded material—at least an EP’s worth—to give people we want to hit up for gigs. (And if we do that, we might as well do a round dozen of songs and have an album we can sell at those gigs.) All we need are the “base” tracks (leads can be added later)—and the band is tight enough now so if the levels are set right, those “base” tracks can be recorded in one or two takes. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole thing could be done in two days.
I can play lead guitar on some of the tracks; we’ll have Dick’s blues harp on at least one of the songs (“No Good Songs About the War,” which is going to the Dylan-wannabe contest); and I can round up “guest leads” for the rest, I guess. I wonder if that could be used as a way to try out different lead players?
And I can solicit solo gigs. I really haven’t done that at all since moving back to the Coast. But I drive past a couple of venues almost every day that I know could use me in a solo set, and I have to stop in and talk to them, and leave a CD (as soon as I have more). John and Chris both have jobs: I don’t—and could use the business. It was neat selling five CDs over last weekend—I’d like to be doing that a lot—but I don’t sell CDs unless I’m performing, and I know from experience that the more I’m playing, the better I get.
I’m still going to make the Joe Thongs (I got the supplies). I don’t at this point have a crowd to toss them into, but I’ll send a couple down south as souvenirs.
The job interview in Salem went well. (A bunch of folks have asked.) It was interesting to see how a huge bureaucracy does interviews; they had a 3-person team of (I think) underlings doing it, about one per hour over I know not how many hours, and they said they’d be at it all week. The state Dept. of Revenue has 8 of these “revenue agent” positions to fill, but I don’t know how many people they’re interviewing. To speed things up, they issued candidates the questions they were going to ask ahead of time, and gave us half an hour to think about our answers—nice tactic, and I’ll use it if I ever have the chance. They were nice people, and I don’t think I scared them away. I’ll know in a couple of weeks. I refuse to be hopeful.
I sent off my (awfully detailed) thoughts on an opening for the burlesque show, but the only comment I’ve got back thus far from any of the troupe is a noncommital one. Maybe I’ll know more when we get together next Sunday. I had an idea, too, for a project the burlesque troupe would be perfect for—if they’re interested, and have the time (I don’t want to take time away from the show). There’s a Southern Pigfish song intended for a music video--”Bedpans for Brains,” which had each verse being sung by a different cast member from The Wizard of Oz. These guys and gals would be perfect for it. And one of ‘em is a director, with film experience. I’ll have to find out if they can do it.
Joe
Whatever will I do? Oh, there’s plenty. A quick work list:
The band needs a lead player before we can do any more shows. Dick will be gone several months, he thinks. FIND ONE. That’s an opportunity to go visit some other venues, local festivals, and open mikes, and see what might be available. We have two performances possible in October, I think—the Neskowin Harvest Festival (a benefit) and that local-musicians thing the music teacher is organizing—but we can’t do it as a trio.
There’s the Dylan-wannabe contest in England to get the entry done for; deadline is the end of August, and I don’t know how long it takes to get something to England in the mail. We have the “base track” (rhythm guitar, vocal, bass and drums) done, I think, though I haven’t heard John’s final copy; need to overlay Dick’s blues harp (before he leaves town) and my guitar leads. Could probably be done in a day.
And there’s THE ALBUM. I’m not sure how interested the band are in recording—they are really interested in performing. I think the argument I’d use is we need some recorded material—at least an EP’s worth—to give people we want to hit up for gigs. (And if we do that, we might as well do a round dozen of songs and have an album we can sell at those gigs.) All we need are the “base” tracks (leads can be added later)—and the band is tight enough now so if the levels are set right, those “base” tracks can be recorded in one or two takes. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole thing could be done in two days.
I can play lead guitar on some of the tracks; we’ll have Dick’s blues harp on at least one of the songs (“No Good Songs About the War,” which is going to the Dylan-wannabe contest); and I can round up “guest leads” for the rest, I guess. I wonder if that could be used as a way to try out different lead players?
And I can solicit solo gigs. I really haven’t done that at all since moving back to the Coast. But I drive past a couple of venues almost every day that I know could use me in a solo set, and I have to stop in and talk to them, and leave a CD (as soon as I have more). John and Chris both have jobs: I don’t—and could use the business. It was neat selling five CDs over last weekend—I’d like to be doing that a lot—but I don’t sell CDs unless I’m performing, and I know from experience that the more I’m playing, the better I get.
I’m still going to make the Joe Thongs (I got the supplies). I don’t at this point have a crowd to toss them into, but I’ll send a couple down south as souvenirs.
The job interview in Salem went well. (A bunch of folks have asked.) It was interesting to see how a huge bureaucracy does interviews; they had a 3-person team of (I think) underlings doing it, about one per hour over I know not how many hours, and they said they’d be at it all week. The state Dept. of Revenue has 8 of these “revenue agent” positions to fill, but I don’t know how many people they’re interviewing. To speed things up, they issued candidates the questions they were going to ask ahead of time, and gave us half an hour to think about our answers—nice tactic, and I’ll use it if I ever have the chance. They were nice people, and I don’t think I scared them away. I’ll know in a couple of weeks. I refuse to be hopeful.
I sent off my (awfully detailed) thoughts on an opening for the burlesque show, but the only comment I’ve got back thus far from any of the troupe is a noncommital one. Maybe I’ll know more when we get together next Sunday. I had an idea, too, for a project the burlesque troupe would be perfect for—if they’re interested, and have the time (I don’t want to take time away from the show). There’s a Southern Pigfish song intended for a music video--”Bedpans for Brains,” which had each verse being sung by a different cast member from The Wizard of Oz. These guys and gals would be perfect for it. And one of ‘em is a director, with film experience. I’ll have to find out if they can do it.
Joe
Sunday, August 2, 2009
BUSY WEEKEND POST-MORTEM...
As this is written, the Busy Weekend is not yet over. I still have a job interview tomorrow in Salem, a 2-hour drive away, and errands to run. I need to get slimline CD cases, and T-shirt transfers and stickers for the Joe Thongs I want to have for the 22 August concert in Central Point.
The Garibaldi Museum concert was a success. We had a very small crowd, but they were appreciative. We were competing with at least (1) the Jews’ Harp Festival, (2) the 100th anniversary of the Tillamook Cheese factory, and (3) a music festival in south Tillamook County; I understand there were a couple of other Big Events further south, too. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky anyone came at all. I think the Museum owners were disappointed at the turnout, but are also convinced it wasn’t because we weren’t good—they liked us (nice validation, there), and they want to have us back. The band was tight—practice helps—and they’re confident now they can do anything. We do have a good three hours worth of performable material now.
Best songs were “I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas” and Gene Burnett’s “Things Are Getting Better Now That Things Are Getting Worse.” I noticed people looking puzzled as they listened carefully to the Southern Pigfish song, “For Their Own Ends,” trying to figure out what it meant—but their toes were tapping anyway.
Friday night, the music teacher came (with wife and kids) to see the Friday Night Group. He wants me and the band (Dick, Chris and John) for a festival of local musicians he wants to put on in early October. (He bought a CD, too. Always have CDs with you.) He can have Chris, John and me, but not Dick—Dick and Carol will still be on their cross-country trip. We will need a different lead player.
I did a little lead-player hunting at the Jews’ Harp Festival Friday and Saturday, but there wasn’t a lot to pick from; most of these folks are percussionists, and it’s almost impossible to do a percussion lead. There were just two or three guitarists there besides me (only one of them local, and I’ve never seen him play lead). I did solicit his wife to play lead Jews’ harp when I record “Love Trails of the Zombie Snails”; that would work, I think, because I can add different special effects when recording. Performing is different—your instruments are all “unenhanced.”
I saw one fellow at the Jews’ Harp Festival who had managed to do Pink Floyd-style recordings with his Jews’ harp. I could do the same thing. My little Tascam allows a guitar to “emulate” 40 different electric guitars and half a dozen basses (later models of the Tascam could not do this); if I miked the Jews’ harp and ran it through the “guitar” input of the Tascam, could I come up with (for example) a Heavy Metal Jews’ Harp? I’ll have to try it. I could do the same with Bob Lichner’s musical saw (which he’s getting quite good at).
Today was the monthly jam at the Forestry Center; five musicians there instead of the usual three, and they kept expecting me to play lead—and I could (having played a lot of music the two previous days helped). Sold four CDs there. And one of the guitarists, who plays a lot of open mikes and jams around the Portland area, asked permission to do some of my songs. (Permission granted, of course.)
And the burlesque troupe are interesting. Most of the seven I met Sunday night are writers of one sort or another; two also do interpretive dance; one is a director (with a film education). I think the show we’re sketching out is going to be a lot like the Malheur Miners’ Wild West Shows I was a part of when I lived in Vale—sketch comedy interpolated with music. There is supposedly another musician in the troupe, but he wasn’t at the meeting. My function, I think, is going to be to serve as a sort of Greek chorus—commenting musically (and not necessarily relevantly) on what’s happened, or happening. I did have an idea on the way home how to introduce the group—just a variation on how the Malheur Miners did it. (This being Portland, and not Eastern Oregon, we won’t be doing a gunfight.)
Joe
The Garibaldi Museum concert was a success. We had a very small crowd, but they were appreciative. We were competing with at least (1) the Jews’ Harp Festival, (2) the 100th anniversary of the Tillamook Cheese factory, and (3) a music festival in south Tillamook County; I understand there were a couple of other Big Events further south, too. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky anyone came at all. I think the Museum owners were disappointed at the turnout, but are also convinced it wasn’t because we weren’t good—they liked us (nice validation, there), and they want to have us back. The band was tight—practice helps—and they’re confident now they can do anything. We do have a good three hours worth of performable material now.
Best songs were “I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas” and Gene Burnett’s “Things Are Getting Better Now That Things Are Getting Worse.” I noticed people looking puzzled as they listened carefully to the Southern Pigfish song, “For Their Own Ends,” trying to figure out what it meant—but their toes were tapping anyway.
Friday night, the music teacher came (with wife and kids) to see the Friday Night Group. He wants me and the band (Dick, Chris and John) for a festival of local musicians he wants to put on in early October. (He bought a CD, too. Always have CDs with you.) He can have Chris, John and me, but not Dick—Dick and Carol will still be on their cross-country trip. We will need a different lead player.
I did a little lead-player hunting at the Jews’ Harp Festival Friday and Saturday, but there wasn’t a lot to pick from; most of these folks are percussionists, and it’s almost impossible to do a percussion lead. There were just two or three guitarists there besides me (only one of them local, and I’ve never seen him play lead). I did solicit his wife to play lead Jews’ harp when I record “Love Trails of the Zombie Snails”; that would work, I think, because I can add different special effects when recording. Performing is different—your instruments are all “unenhanced.”
I saw one fellow at the Jews’ Harp Festival who had managed to do Pink Floyd-style recordings with his Jews’ harp. I could do the same thing. My little Tascam allows a guitar to “emulate” 40 different electric guitars and half a dozen basses (later models of the Tascam could not do this); if I miked the Jews’ harp and ran it through the “guitar” input of the Tascam, could I come up with (for example) a Heavy Metal Jews’ Harp? I’ll have to try it. I could do the same with Bob Lichner’s musical saw (which he’s getting quite good at).
Today was the monthly jam at the Forestry Center; five musicians there instead of the usual three, and they kept expecting me to play lead—and I could (having played a lot of music the two previous days helped). Sold four CDs there. And one of the guitarists, who plays a lot of open mikes and jams around the Portland area, asked permission to do some of my songs. (Permission granted, of course.)
And the burlesque troupe are interesting. Most of the seven I met Sunday night are writers of one sort or another; two also do interpretive dance; one is a director (with a film education). I think the show we’re sketching out is going to be a lot like the Malheur Miners’ Wild West Shows I was a part of when I lived in Vale—sketch comedy interpolated with music. There is supposedly another musician in the troupe, but he wasn’t at the meeting. My function, I think, is going to be to serve as a sort of Greek chorus—commenting musically (and not necessarily relevantly) on what’s happened, or happening. I did have an idea on the way home how to introduce the group—just a variation on how the Malheur Miners did it. (This being Portland, and not Eastern Oregon, we won’t be doing a gunfight.)
Joe
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