So Xipetotec and I only managed to spend last night in the studio. We spent our time working on “The Punisher” and while I’d love to say the latest version is up, I can’t. As to why, well that is a fun little story. Seems that I’m still learning the new features in cubase now that the motu 828 is hooked up. Actually I think I’m still just learning the Motu 828. I should probably backtrack to last sunday first to explain.

Last weekend I somehow managed not to record the first take of Alyce’s vocals. The joy of using a computer and not tape is the ability to very quickly do it again. In my case, doing it again means exactly that: not recording the vocals for a second time. Seems I hit the wrong key and instead of recording it just played. The third take we did get, and I spent a bit last night working with it in terms of effects programming. I’m a bit closer, but it still requires a bit more finesse with the overtones.

Well when I exported it out last Sunday, the first pass was wrong. Well last night I was able to record a mix down without issue, but I bussed the channel incorrectly and ended up with nothing but silence. Now this didn’t occur to me until this morning when I read a message from Xipetotec stating that the version on the site wasn’t updated. Now I knew I’d copied it up. Apparently I didn’t copy the right track to cd, so I went into the studio and burned the one from last night. When I got inside I discovered it was nothing but silence.

Well the second trip out turned into me pulling the g3 out of the rack as it refused to boot. I think it has something to with the battery on the motherboard having finally died after seven years. So on the way home I’m picking up a replacement for it. I remembered ready somewhere that this is something that does happen, and after a couple quick google searches my memory proved correct. If it’s not the battery, well blue and white G3s are dirt cheap these days.

We did manage to get some adjustments in for “The Punisher” last night. The most notable was bringing the bassline in key with the synth. We also added a snare into it, and had planned to add in an agogo bell but it appears that the Procussion doesn’t use the velocity with it. I might bus it out to the Akai and just deal with it there. I started into the arborous task of programming our own kit last night, but that is going to require a few hours with the manual.

October 31st, 2005 | Uncategorized | 2 comments

Robert Frost and Stinkin’ Olaf, the one-eyed peg-legged fiddler, are standing in front of St. Peter outside the Pearly Gates. St. Peter says, “Well, Gentlemen, we unfortunately only have room for one of you. You are both good men, having lived for the benefit of mankind. Artists of uncommon ilk. Your works have inspired the best in your fellow man. Neither of you has done enough wrong in God’s eyes to be condemned to Hell, but we can only accept one more soul. There is simply not enough room for two. God and I took counsel on this matter and He decided that a contest would determine which of you shall gain admittance to the Kingdom of Heaven. Because you are both creative spirits and sought to inspire through your minds while you yet lived, He felt that a poetry competition would be the best idea.”

“That is capital by me,” responds Mr. Frost, a grin playing across his lips, “I have been a weaver of words for the long years of my life. I am well practiced and prepared to accept the challenge.”

Olaf, frowning, stares blankly at the cloud upon wich he is standing, akwardly kicking up little trails of white mist with his rough hewn peg, wringing his weathered hands a bit. “Well, I don’ know. I wussa fiddl’r. I ain’t so much good with fancy wurds like ole Robbie here.” He looks up into St. Peter’s sympathetic, glowing face with sad eyes.

St. Peter puts his hand on Olaf’s slumped shoulder. “God is a fair being, Olaf. You know this, The Almighty can sense it. God has made a condition to be met with this contest. You both must use Timbuktu in your recitation. The judgement He makes shall be based upon how you employ Timbuktu.” Peter smiles broadly at the dishevelled fiddler, gently lifting Olaf’s chin with a loving hand. “You can do this, Olaf. You are an artist at heart. Music, poetry, painting, dancing… these are all really the same skills. You inspire with emotion.”

Olaf feels a bit of weight lift from his chest. “I’ll give ‘er a shot, I s’pose. I ain’t so good at speeches, nor that po’try, but if its tha only way, then thar it is, eh.

St. Peter takes a step back from the odd pair. “Robert, you are first. You are the better word-smith, so God will give time to Olaf to think.”

The great poet nods. He begins, well enunciated and projecting, “As I walk across this flat and barren land, my feet bare upon the burning, golden sand, I witness a fleet caravan, go passing phantomly through, on it’s way to Timbuktu.”

“That’s quite a job, Robert.” Peter smiles and claps quietly. He turns to Olaf. “Are you ready?”

“I think so. I’m sure it ain’t gonna ring like Robbie, though.”

“Just do your best, Olaf. You can do this. God knows of what quality you are made.”

Olaf plants his booted foot and peg close side by side, folding his knarled hands together behind his bent back. He closes his already squinted eyes, his thick brows and hairy, round cheeks hiding the lids completely. “Tim-n-me a’campin’ went, saw three women in a tent, them bein’ three and us bein’ two, I buck’d one and Tim buck’d two.”

October 30th, 2005 | Uncategorized | No comments