I’m at my Engineer’s house. I can finally talk about him and his going-s on more freely. Like that he has a girlfriend who massages stuff. I don’t like to talk about people freely because it’s really none of other people’s business. That’s my philosophy on blogging anyway.
She actually massages people. That sounded really bad. She’s a professional. We’re all professional here.
Anyway, one of his projects is the Disciples of Sound. He’s doing their CD. He asked my opinion after he played a track. I had just gone to see them live at Headhunters a couple days ago. Headhunters is a club that is located right next to Hoboken Pies somewhere downtown. Apparently, my friend says that it’s the sweet kind of New York pie, rather than the salty one. And that the water makes the pizza. Not here in these pies, but in actual New York. I told him to bring pizza water next time he went to New York to visit his parents. I’d tell him to get his parents to bring me some pizza water, but this guy has sent his extremely classy mother my extremely UNCLASSY list of our compiled horrible band names. When they come here, they fly here in a very small plane. They think that I am weird enough.
I have this fantasy of Mike and I tossing perfect pizza in a pristine kitchen that looks like a lab though. I slide down the fireman’s pole from my library into my studio. Then I go into the conservatory (where the piano is) which is of course connected to my little studio (my studio is not very big because although I am an awesome and famous song-writer composer-performer chickie, I am kind of still a dilletante engineer – having no taste for numbers and no attention span for album names or band statistics or gear specifications). I go through the secret passageway in my conservatory into the kitchen. Why yes, it does look like the one in Clue.
The opinion I gave him on the Disciples sucked, and probably didn’t help matters at all. I can’t give a good opinion of harder bands. I’m feeling pretty shitty about my engineering skills lately you might-could-tell, which is probably why I haven’t really been on the ball about setting up my studio. The lack of fireman’s pole or secret passagway or light-filled-conservatory-with-BadAssed floor-which houses-a-Fazioli could also have something to do with this.
… I haven’t really been doing anything about anything other than learning to play jazz piano. I’m not really finishing songs. I’ve started looking at venues, but you kind of have to comit to that intention. It’s a step. People all around me are mounting major video making campaigns. I’m NOT on the band wagon. I’m freaking out about this. Ack!
But it’s good that I’m learning to play jazz piano. It’s turning me into a bad ass piano player. I know though at some point, I’m going to have to crack open Cubase and deal with my damn problems. I’m going to have to book gigs, and take photos of my self, and videotape things. And have a real recording made of myself. And finish cleaning out those two rooms so I can put up the friggin soundproofing, which has been sitting there like a constant reminder of how I suuuuuucccckkkk.
He’s editing drums now. Not the Disciples of Sound. It’s funny how he talks. Watching him do drummy-druminator thingys (not the technical term for what he is doing, and part of my problem), leads me to understand a few key things:
1. Saying “cockn’balls a lot may turn me into a better engineer, over time.
2. I really can’t give good feedback on stuff that is “heavy music.” Seriously. I have nothing meaningful to say. I just smile and look like I have the IQ of a champagne grape. This will not turn me into a better engineer, over time.
3. It would be real helpful if I had two large monitors in my life because having everything out on huge-o screens it AWESOME for big, fat editing.
4. I’m happy I’m a Steinberg girl still (even though I know not what I am doing), and ProTools can still suckit.
5. I LOOOOVVVVEEEE Leslie speakers