More Than Just A Slice

"There was a time, a long, long time ago..." ...when I remember being in college with precious few funds available for withdraw from my laughable bank account. Be that as it may, I was always determined to build my music library piece by piece exposing myself to new styles & artists. You see, I hold firmly to the belief that as a musician, it is just as important to listen to great recordings (actively, not passively) as it is to be in the practice room for untold hours on end. It's no different than the budding author who builds her home library by leaps & bounds. At any rate, those years have since passed me by. Like the rest of you, now I simply listen for free much of the time on youtube, some musician's myspace page (thank you Isaac Lausell & Lou Pardini!) or download songs for a mere buck off of Amazon.

Not the case with the new album "Slice" from artist John Ondrasik. Who? Oh yes, you may better recognize him from his stage name "Five For Fighting" (hockey terminology). No, this time around the good Chessking laid down twelve whole U.S. watermarked dollars for a physical copy wrapped in the most annoying invention of the previous century-shrink wrap.

The album screams of Carol King & William Joel influences & is heavily laced with thought provoking lyrics that seem to be the exception rather than the norm in this American Idol age that perpetually favors style over substance.

I am particularly fond of the second track off the album entitled "Note To An Unknown Soldier" which quite poignantly personalizes & magnifies the ultimate sacrifices made by our brave men & women in uniform. Refreshing to hear the recognition & deep sense of gratitude pumping through my Dell computer speakers from a nationally known act rather than the usual antiwar one sided rhetoric we've grown so accustomed to enduring. Excellent job John! I give the album a resounding two thumbs up! Now hurry to your nearest discount store or music distribution website & support this new body of work! Hurry I say! Why are you still reading this? ;0)

Say Goodbye To Hollywood

Recent email to friend circa August 28, 2009 genre:

Say, wouldn't it be cool if one day we were old men sitting on a quiet glassy still pond in a canoe just across the Canadian border in mid October quietly fishing with a small ice chest full of cold beverages? The temperature was in the high 50's and not an ounce of humidity (even though we were on the water). And wouldn't it be even cooler if about a hundred yards away there was a place to make a small fire to cook the morning's catch over? Oh & look! I just happen to have in my possession a backpack overflowing with fresh lemon wedges, chopped fennel, Sicilian sea salt (say that 10 times as fast as you can!), ground black & white pepper, smoked paprika, & the best olive oil money can buy! The sound of a hawk resonates in the background from just around the bend. We're both sporting heavy long sleeve flannel with hats & vests. We didn't shave or shower that morning. Then, you quietly reach inside your backpack, smile, & open your light as a feather paper thin Mac Book. Oh & look...the Dodger post season NLCS game has just started in crystal clear high fi! Wow! Heaven on earth! Wooden shoe agree?

Friend's response: And you were doing so well (Brave's fan).

Sigh...wait'll next year Dodger fans. :0(

Warm & Fuzzy

I'll be the first to admit I complain entirely too much. And those who know me best, I am certain, will concur. You see lately (lately being the last 4 years or so mind you) I've openly sounded off about everything from the extreme tropical weather that perpetually encases my every move, to my favorite sports teams taking a beating, to the dangers of global cooling everyone keeps ignoring. However, in my defense, I'm also the quickest to thoroughly relish & appreciate the moment for all it's bloody worth when something indeed goes right! That's what living with an emotionally unstable "man of extremes" is like (just ask my wife. Hi wife!)...which brings us to my little pictured friend, the "RAT" as he's called. For those of you not familiar with guitar processors let me explain (Reader: Oh please do! Yawn, stretch, sleep, slumber, snooze, shut-eye, zzzzzzzz...).

For every sound effect you hear on your favorite recorded top 40 song, there is almost always a processor hard at work altering all those electronic signals being hammered out by your favorite artist to supply you the listener with that unmistakable groovy jive that takes you back to yesteryear when the grass was greener & your waist line was thinner.

For example, Distortion, Crunch, Wa-Wa, Tremolo, Chorus, Delay, are just a few of the colors in the typical electric guitarist's pallet (am i still boring you?). And processors can come in the form of an external box (as pictured) or they can be internal software in a PC. I know, who cares? Just because you drive a car doesn't mean you want to know the inner workings of a timing gear.

I only torture you with the above mentioned because last night, be it brief, I had one of those moments where everything went right! And boy was it brief! Talkin'... seconds! You see, the previous recording I was working on ended up being slightly sharp (like 10 cents sharp). Almost had myself committed over it because it meant all the following tracks I recorded ALSO had to be 10 cents sharp or it would all sound like alley cats being slowly mutilated over a girl scout camp fire.

I survived the ordeal (barely, & thanks for your concern) but last night was a different story. Everything was "on the money" in tune which was almost a religious experience for me after enduring the previous tuning nightmare. Better still, I dug out my old friend the "RAT" which drastically warmed my cold, sterile, digital signal up quite a little bit.

Recording is no fun. Not only is it meticulous time consuming hard work, it's a constant reminder of how bad you really sing & play (& dance!). And recordings never lie...especially unforgiving 16 bit digital recordings which are like a lot of pizzas I used to deliver: thin & crispy. And don't get me started on mp3's! We'll have to save that discussion for next time (Reader: Can hardly wait!).

Where was I? Oh yeah, So last night, just for a moment, when I experienced a perfectly in tune guitar, with fresh new strings going through a most righteous guitar processor (aka stomp box) while laying down some saucy new tracks with just the right eq & delicious effects sprinkled on top...well, needless to say your favorite blogger was in heaven.

Then harsh reality immediately reared it's grotesque head the moment I moved on to other tasks (namely singing! blech!).

Sigh...

I've come to the conclusion mountain top experiences take on a variety of forms in the average person's life. And sadly, they always seem to be anything but enduring. Perhaps that's why we're repeatedly reminded to... "enjoy the journey." Yes, day to day, to day, to day, is quite possibly where the battle is won or lost. No worries. Haven't you heard? "Ho-hum" is the new cool! ;-)

Coming Home

Yesterday afternoon found me in the midst of a cold & cloudy, rainy day on Galveston, Island. With three little restless squeedunks keeping things lively, we all prepared to bring my wife home after multiple days in the hospital. A severe case of the flu was the guilty culprit responsible for this drama. And no, it wasn't the dreaded Swine Flu for which we were all relieved.

I hope the worst is behind us. I hope my wife can finally rest this week. I hope someone will pop in & help us get caught up on dishes, bills & laundry. While I'm dreaming I'd also like a 2009 Dodger's World Championship, peace in the Middle East, & a shiny new pony for my backyard.

Even As We Sleep

I fall asleep in peace the moment I lie down because you alone, O LORD, enable me to live securely. Psalm 4:8 God's Word Translation

Seven ate Nine

About a week ago my oldest son decided he was finished being seven. So he hauled off & had a birthday. Now, I know what you're thinking. Here I go again with my boring sentimental ramblings that are the cyber equivalent of some stranger in a grocery check out line whipping out their purse to immerse you in countless faded dog eared pics of their offspring sporting terribly dated hair & duds who now reside in north Toledo.

Guilty as charged Your Honor.

However, in my defense I must throw myself at the mercy of the court because we're now staring nine years of age in the face folks which is difficult for a guy/dad like me to process. Perhaps I'm experiencing a "quarter life crisis" as John Mayer sings about. Nope (sigh). I've already passed that benchmark come to think. Three eighths life crisis? I dunno. Fractions were never my friend in school. Bunny Trail commenced. Happy Birthday Caleb. Cherished are you.