Austin, Day Seven
Back in the bunker after a gruelling session on Monday. Multiple takes and a lot of singing. It takes me back. I haven’t worked like this since I was a young man. I am no longer any kind of young and I’m wrecked by nine at night. It’s a beautiful cool night, the Milky Way is faintly visible and I drive around until I find a hippy co-operative where I buy some dried up sushi to drag home and club to death in my cave. My nightly treat is a bottle of root beer; that medicinal elixir that’s so redolent of old-time USA. I take my repast watching John Boorman’s mad Point Blank on the computer. Then I watch Robert Siodmak’s Criss Cross on YouTube on my phone. Both films have brilliant, grim, pessimistic endings. I’m going to watch The Werkmeister Harmonies tonight on the microwave.
Me and the band wait outside the studio for Mr. McC to arrive. They talk about gear, drink, girls and touring like all musicians do when they’re having a coffee morning.
We have a productive afternoon and cut two tracks live in short order. We’re taking vocals live too which is horrific to an anally retentive control freak like me. I’m outwardly rolling with the process but inside I’m a riot of anxiety. It’s the British way. Smile through the rising sense of doom. Stiff upper head.
Today we break for food and we saunter to the end of the street to a Mexican cantina where we are served excellent cheap food. The restaurant has yellow walls and bright floral plastic tablecloths. I have chicken tacos and Mexican coke, the good stuff with the cane sugar. The light and the heat glow with a southern warmth. There are discarded malt liquor bottles lying in the coarse grass around a sycamore that we walk under on the way back, evidence of a sad and awful sort of party. One of the lads had been asking about Buckfast earlier, Glasgow’s poison of choice for the discerning dipsomaniac and I had explained its cultural significance very badly. Very good on a speed comedown, must be served cold.
We hit the wall at nine and quit while we’re sort of winning. Everyone hangs for a bit in the kitchen area for a blether. I earwig away, something of a non-contributor around these folk I have known so short a time. There will be time to talk back home later on, rivers of words will flood from my loose lips into the little pool of my friends.
18 Responses to “Austin, Day Seven”
YES Print has for over two decades, been delivering high-end solutions for ISFs delivering to the leading CROs crossing five different continents.
I read this and thought “awwwwwwwwwww, he sounds so pissed off” Do you need a cuddle? Lots on offer……… x
I find the older I get the smaller the pool. Doesn’t stem the flow, maybe concentrates it a tad.
Anally retentive control freak. That’s my kinda man!
Yeeeeeeeeeh ha ha ha pardner. Can
hardly keep my britches up at the very thought.
You’re a loose woman. I might have to lasso you lest I lose you.
Man it has to have some wild Mick Slaven stuff on it i love the way he plays
Hang in there Justin, just keep thinking ‘I think I can I think I can’. It may be hard work now but think of the end result. As for that anal retention you really should see a doctor about that, I’m sure there is cream or antibiotics for it or maybe you might need more fibre. Anyway take care of yourself and good luck with it all.
“… anally retentive control freak like me …”
Jesus, that actually sounds a lot like me!
ps…at least you look great even if you’re ready for the rubber room! ;-)
AND…you’re still plenty young. What is BB King gonna say? And he’s still rockin. Give yourself a break! lol xxx
Live vocal takes. Oh man…so you can’t do overdubs at all, at least on the lead vocal. That’s like the early Beatles records. No wonder you’re a wreck. I would be having panic attacks. I’m really glad you can watch youtube on your iphone. I laughed so hard at you saying you’re gonna watch The Werkmeister Harmonies on the microwave! LOL!
Hang in there Justin! xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
So is it a completly new band or what? I’m such a goon about stuff like that
session players Charlie.
To be precise, not session players but cool band guys. It’s not Nashville, it’s like Glasgow but better dressed. And with better hair. Session guys come in wearing shorts and Hawaiian shirts. And have guitars with angled headstocks. These guys are cool. What they’re doing working with a dick like me is anyone’s guess.
Oh I see…I thought they must be session players.
they are honoured to be working with you I’m sure. x
Their will always be young men willing to work with dicks……………..if the price is right of course.