It shows that Humans like to fuck with Time. And, yes, Time truly is Relative. Yes. We noticed. It was a cold, blue sky day yesterday. We rambled on the path, watched the waves crash into the sand.
I am staying at a lakefront palace, acting as the caretaker. Taking care, oh yeah, for sure, that's a job.
We had a pizza party and listened to the album we recorded over a year ago. We are in the final stages of mixing. 9 songs, mixed and nearly ready for mastering. It has been a long, meandering process, one step forward, a step or two back, a few false starts, dead-ends, retracing steps, and then, plunging forward with gusto.
We started with two different mixing engineers, it seemed promising, and then, pretty stupid, frustrating, and "not working." We then settled on one mixing engineer, and he took the bull by the horns. All the tracks now have his stamp, his flavor, his spice. And it just seems so right.
Now we are listening to a very cohesive album of lovingly mixed tracks that flow well together. We've tried differents sequences, getting just the right flow. So damn close now. Think we are down to one last track, need to adjust the volume on a vocal here and there. I hear two words in my vocal on one song, "She told..." that need to come up slightly.
Yikes. That's it. Then the mixing will be done. So, yeah, we listened on a maginifcent home stereo system, which brought out all of the power and nuance of these tracks. The reverb on vocals and instruments have such a beautiful, organic, moody, atmospheric presence now. It was so thrilling to hear our songs, and our band at a certain peak performance. Recorded and mixed with such a bold, artistic verve and panache.
That called for a pizza party. A celebration of our massive, creative undertaking and a concentrated, long-time commitment and dedication to the good work.
This morning, in the afterglow, it's Meltdown Monday. I am typing on my Chromebook, listening to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' "Murder Ballads." (1996). Darkly glorious. After nine wild-ass songs about murder, mayhem, blood, and splattered guts, the album ends with Dylan's strangely ethereal song "Death is Not the End." Anita Lane, Shane MacGowan, PJ Harvey and Kylie Minogue, among others, all sing a line. A beautiful coda to the gory madness of being a fucked up, murderous, species.
A big, fat, orange ball of flame is emerging out of a dark blue lake, shining like a primordial God hyped up on some illicit, electrifying, uncommonly powerful drug.
Yeah. I am ready for a new week...
