peej et al.
Saw Kudzu Wish at the Black Cat tonight. Great show as usual. A year of solid touring has left these guys tight as hell, just completely effortless. I'd really like to see a decent indie pick them up, because they're not great at marketing themselves -- they're musicians, not salespeople -- but they're good and they work really damn hard.
Best shout-out ever: "This next one goes out to Regan's corpse. Man, that guy is stiff".
This weekend the musical idiocy troupe known as Sparge converged in NYC to record our sixth record. Yes, he said "sixth". I'd love to release these things, even just as mp3s, but they're so offensive that I sort of fear for my job, or the jobs of other members. So that's great.
Anyway, thirteen(!) of us trekked to Greg's studio to record all weekend. But at the last minute, PJ Harvey (of all people) booked Saturday afternoon to record an exclusive-to-something live set. That bumped us until Saturday night. So Sparge headed over to my brother's apartment to record stupid shit there, and I, like a good team player, begged Greg into letting me intern for the session.
The session was fun, and a little weird, and I guess not surprising at all. The roadies were hilarious stereotypical Brit roadies, Lemmy autobiography in hand. (for real.) The band members were solid musicians and nice guys. Head, who mixed the last few PJH records, was extremely friendly. The band's performance was great. They barely cared about their headphone mixes, they never did more than one take per song, they never even listened to a playback.
Polly herself was... antisocial? Uninterested? Taking herself very seriously? I'm not sure. But after she left I realized that she never even acknowledged Greg or his assistant. No introduction when she showed up, no "thanks" on the way out. The band did, the roadies did, the producer did, but not Polly. That sucked.
I love PJ Harvey. As far as I'm concerned she's the real shit. She can channel things that most people never even see in themselves. But that self-absorbed center-of-the-universe thing chafes me. C'mon, these guys are busting their asses to make sure you're happy and comfortable and to make you sound good. Be cordial at least.
Greg barely even noticed. And that's why I could never be a professional engineer. Too much stupid sense of self-importance.
So what did we learn this weekend while recording songs like "d-i-c-k that spells dick" in a world-class studio?
Lessons 1a and 1b came from watching Greg work, watching the PJ band play, watching Brad and Bob play during Sparge, watching Kudzu play tonight.
Lesson 1a: the only way to be great at something is to do it like crazy, for years on end, until it becomes second nature, then do it some more.
Lesson 1b: it's easiest to accomplish item 1a if you're willing to be bad at other things. Want to be a great guitarist? You probably shouldn't be fucking off trying to be an engineer or a producer. Want to be a great engineer? Stop trying to be a musician. Want to be a great ... anything? Be willing to be an amateur at other things. Let other people work on your car, pay someone to fix up your house, buy your computers off the shelf instead of assembling them. You need as much time, and as much mental bandwidth, as you can get. Jack of all trades, etc. Nothing new here. But it's good to have it rubbed in your face now and then.
Lesson 2: avoid seeing your heroes up close and personal.