Ambivilant Feelings

I find myself, more often than not, gushing a torrential outpouring of words. My thought process exists in complete sentences, so much so, that when I dream, I can not only read, but write as well. For me to admit that a topic is hard to talk about, is to say a lot.

Recently, I have been giving up hope on the written word. On communicating at all, really. I used to store so much on my communication abilities, of being able to explain anything, to persuade any view point, to talk to any person, that I naively thought only time would heal all wounds.

This isn’t really a blog to say that I’ve completely returned to the land of optimism. No, not when so many people pervert language and meaning. This is more of a check in blog, a blog to say that I’m still here, still having a good life, even if I don’t communicate as much.

My wife is the most important person in my life. She, more than anyone else, has taught me the importance of the quiet moment — the moments we share without talking, without interacting, sharing the same space, the same activity, the same energy.

Inside of this quietness, I’ve actually found a little bit more understand. I’ve found out that I’m an arrogant, pig-head asshole, but I’m working to change that. Maybe that’s why I haven’t written lately. The internet, more so than a regular journal, captures all of my indolence and arrogance. My post from over a year ago strike me as childish: the rants of a person I remember, but maybe not so well anymore. No so eagerly do I fight for causes. Not so blindly do I stick to viewpoints. I still have them, but I’m more likely to ridicule them than push them on others.

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Recently, the band has been doing some really incredible stuff. My impatience makes me think I’m running in place, when those around me are amazed at how fast it is going. In my own personal mythology, I was supposed to have been famous by 18, to have been dead by 26. At the age of 26 now, I am famous to my friends and family and that’s good enough. What I realized that I actually wanted, was to entertain. That’s what all the push for fame was about, to ensure a crowd every time I ascend the stage.

I claim that I want to pay rent by playing music, or writing, or whatever, but that’s because the stresses and dangers of the road, the starvation of the artist, the cravings for the spotlight, the breaking of my humility, the moment of illumination in the crowd’s collective face as we finally recognize the humanity in each other.

Walking Corpse Syndrome, the band I’m currently in, is turning a corner. We are having our CD release party this Sat. One in Deer Lodge and one in Missoula. I’ve contacted the papers and think that they might be doing a story on the band. More than anything, without even knowing what they’ll write, I feel gratitude. Metal is definitely a hard sell, and for them to return my pesterings, well, I feel very very grateful.

I’m no longer that kid that expected fame to be handed to me on a platter. I’m grateful for that, too. He was sort of a puke.

Album is fertig

Late into the night, we put the finishing touches on the CD. To me, it sounds raw and great. I’ve already listened to it a couple of times. It clocks in at 50 minutes with 12 songs, but it seems to fly by so fast. Next step is just getting the physical CDs printed and then have our CD release party. We also should be getting some clips done and stick them on the web site fairly soon.

The Emerging Music Industry

Just some thoughts, since that’s what i wanted this blog to be in the first place.

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Playing in a band and wanting to support myself through music leads me to reading a lot on the music industry. There’s no denying that the big labels are dying. The RIAA is slapping almost everyone with copyright infringement suits. The choice of music on TV (when music does play) and commercial radio is horribly bland and stagnant.

I just read an article over here. Of some things that struck me, one was that indy music accounts for 30% of sales in the US. I don’t know if I need to stress how amazing this is in an industry that is otherwise dominated by 4 major companies.

To me, 30% shows that the desire for fresh and new music is alive and greater than ever. People are jumping the ship and treading water to find the music that they like. 30% (and growing) is an indication that artist will now have more power over their business and music.

Being entry-level myself puts me in an advantageous position. Having nothing to lose, I can exploit these gains. I don’t need massive tours, buses, private jets, roadies, groupies, techies, lighting shows, etc. I can make up most of this stuff by myself. The downside is that I most likely won’t be able to afford a manager, lawyer, or accountant any time soon. One thing that sucks in being in a DIY band, is that someone has to be the manager or accountant. Rather than having equity and/or revenue from other sources, I must work a job to provide my band with the needed capitol to record and press CDs, make merch, and pay for a tour.

Another thought that struck me is the unwillingness of the major players to acclimate to the current environment. They are estimating that 10-20+ years will be needed to accommodate the new technology. I wonder the horse and carriage people demanded the same leeway?

By the time the dinosaurs acclimate to their new climate, I should wonder that they’ll be close to extinction. The one thing that they have going for them is their massive back catalog. This makes me wonder:

As the Fab Four further find their revenue shrink, will they cease to sign new acts and diverse acts? As this happens, will they further rely on their back catalog, specifically for merchandising, radio, or commercials? At what point will corporations quit licensing the back catalog due to prohibitive cost, influx of new music, and to link with the newer generations?

I predict (in my O so lofty manner), that it will spell the demise for the Big Four as we know them. They will be assimilated by upstart Indy labels. However, by that time, the damage will be done. We’ll have most of a generation that will have grown up without the pervasive exposure to Baby Boomer music. It’ll lose its value, seeming as quaint as big band, early jazz, early country, or marching band music. It’ll come to represent status quo more than any kind of youthful innovation.

At that moment, we’ll see the kind of music that will replace the rock and roll experiment.

Crazy Week

It’s official. Most people I know are PMSing. Me included. Cheese is Crisp! I wish that I could just not yell at people.

I ended up “yelling” at someone last night. Sure it was a speed bump. What can I do? I was raised in a family that tended to speak loud when we had problems. Hence, I tend to speak loud.

I tell you what I can do: I can remain vigilant and practice on taking a step back. Maybe people look at me and think that I’m a loose cannon and always about ready to explode. Mabye that’s true, but I know that for me what counts is that I don’t explode even 1% of the time that I feel like exploding.

I wish that I could just figure out a way to let off steam. I used to have music, but I’m not so sure about that anymore. I used to have writing, but I haven’t written in over 6 months and besides my writing is all bullshit anyone. Post-modern convoluted pseudo-horror bullshit. I have no empathy for characters or situations. Bad things happens to everyone at any time in my stories.

I’m done with that bitch.

grrr…

What’s this birthday thing?

So another year has come and gone. I’ve actually written this blog for longer than I ever thought I would. It sure as hell hasn’t been consistent. I’ve stopped writing about political stuff for the most part. I guess it frustrates me to the point that I don’t really give two shits about it. I also used to try not to cuss in my blog. I guess I don’t give three shits about that.

Maybe people say that cursing is a sign of stupidity, a lack of vocabulary. I would have to agree. I am both stupid and have a small vocabulary.

Though this last year has been marked with some trepidation, it has been on the whole a good year. My old band dissolved and got mixed into the solution of my new band. We’ve had a monster response so far. We’re saving up money and should be able to hit the studio in a few months.

I also finished my book. I had sent it off to some friends. One friend could not get past a graphic scene in the third chapter and refuses to answer any of my calls. A second friend read it once, thought it was great, wanted to read it again, but it depressed her even more the second time. The third friend I never really expected to read it, besides he’s in grad school and waaaay busy with too much stuff. Anyhoo, second friend is sending the book back. I’ll maybe tone it down a bit and send it off see anyone can stiffle their gag reflex long enough to reject it. Or not.

I started going really bald, so I preempted all and started shaving my head. I’ve been getting back into metal and industrial and away from hip hop and whatnot.

I’m not sure what else is happening, but I’ll keep me posted as I see fit.

Urban Blight

On West Broadway, an old building is about to be demolished. Originally it housed the Missoula City Water Works, or something like that. Covered in ivy and spray paint, the windows broken out, this building will be replaced by a Safeway or St. Patricks. Or perhaps it escaped its death sentence and I haven’t heard about it yet. Regardless, the sheds by it have been taken down. Even the parking lot across the street has vomited great chunks of asphalt.

I originally had a dream to buy that building. I would turn the offices into dorm rooms, and the large garage into a gallary/concert hall. Downstairs would be rented practice spaces. We’d have a communal kitchen, communal bathrooms, communal everything really. Anything to keep rent cheap and make it easier for the progressive art community to thrive in this gentrified city.

A lot of metal/progressive musicians in this town harbor dreams of some sort of concert venue. Some all ages place where the owner actually makes their money from the crowd and not the band. None of this band having to pay for security or sound or alcohol deposits. Just a place where the people can come and rock out without fear of retribution. I’ve only been to a few such clubs in my life.

It’s not that I mind progress that much. I love watching new construction. I adore skyscrapers and am thrilled with the tall buildings going up over town. When a city becomes dense enough, the added cost of driving can encourage more people to use public transportation. I personally live close enough to work to walk, but I would enjoy being able to take a bus when and where I want. Unfortunately, our buses don’t really run the times that I need them the most (i.e. at night and on the weekends).

I do mind progress when it happens to me. Recently our apartment building was sold. We were corralled into a new lease before notified that we will suffer construction all winter. They’re not really fixing anything, just added that colored metal siding to make the building look good. What slumlord would buy a building just to make it look more better on the outside? You would want a return on your investment, not just a continuation of the status quo.

My building, I realized, is being converted into condos. The whole city is being converted into condos. And in this rush to make money, these scum suckers are buying up most of Missoula and converting our apartments into condos. Why would anybody rent when they can buy? I’ll tell you why: because right now, buying costs way more than renting. Yes, I realize that’s the reason you’re converting my apartment into a condo, but I hope to Invisible Deity that this town explodes with condos and then suffers such a horrible slump that all these assholes lose their money. Not only lose their money, but lose their homes, cars, and all else and are forced to find a place to live in this overpriced market.

A city needs some kind of Urban Blight, or at least some section of town where the refuse can live. The North and West side are all but gentrified now. East Missoula has had a building boom. Even the Roosevelt area is getting fancy new housing. What’s the point of increasing the value of this property if it forces out the bottom tier from the city? And honestly where are we going to go? Further and further outside of the city, where the cost of gas will defray any savings in rent.

So, my generation is the one pushing to live closer to the city center. My reasons include being able to walk to work. Originally, it included the cheaper rent, but not so much anymore.

One of the workers, when asked by my wife, admitted that our apartments are being made into condos. This was after they cut down all the trees. I don’t know if I want to demand to be let out of the lease, to call fraud so that I can look for another place to live (some place where Lambros is not my slumlord), but I don’t think that I want to. I honestly just want to set up house someplace that I can call my own. Eventually it will be someplace where I can sound proof a room and have band practice. But that day is a long way off.

Re-Animated

We played our first show in several months last Friday. It went very much better than I thought it would. The set flowed as smooth as shit on glass. Almost too smoothly in fact. Mike had little time to actually talk to the crowd. We were so pumped that we needed little recoupe time. Jesus it was fun. Erasmus jumped in to the pit and got his eye bashed in. You can see the results on our myspace page. I forgot to wrap my knuckle and ended up shredding the skin off my finger. That said, I think I’m actually getting pretty good at rocking out and still playing a coherent guitar line.

My Randall cab pulled through beautifully. Though, I wish that I had a better head.

Why is it in Montana all these people feel compelled to be poor rockers? I mean, I work full time now and I bust my balls every day at my job. I try to spend as little of my money as possible so I can buy better gear. Hmmm… It’s no worries. It’s just that I’ve know lots of musicians who pride themselves on working dead end jobs for little or no money and then playing the cheapest gear they can find and congratulating themselves on “living the life.” Me? I like to “live the life” too, since I eat, breathe, sleep, and copulate music. I look at Musician’s Friend more than I look at porn. My wife even encouraged me to buy some porn to break my guitar gear addiction.

Anyway, back to the show. The crowd rocked out. We rocked out. There was much rocking. Shawn and Greg wore their gas masks. The effect was premo! We’ll get some pics posted later this week (hopefully) and maybe even a video.

Noveling

Well, my novel sort of on a stand still until my peeps read it and respond.

But I’m not letting that trip me up. I’ve started work on another novel. Originally, I wanted it to be short stories. I didn’t want to spend another indeterminate amount of time working on some behemoth, but the more I thought about the stories, the more they fleshed out to another novel.

I don’t want to give away too much, especially when I don’t know for sure what it’s about, but I really would like to make this story more chaotic, with perhaps more cohesion at the end. I don’t want it to be kitchey, though. No grandstanding or anything.

Hmmm… this FT job is kicking my ass though. I don’t seem to have enough time to work on it too much. That and the music is taking off. I’m really excited about this incarnation of the band. Hopefully we’ll see it going some place.

New Gear

I’ve been trying out my BBE Sonic Max/Compresser. It sounds good when playing by myself, but damn! As soon as the rest of the band chimes in, it goes nuts! In a bad way. It shows me my input and through no fault of the equipment, it can’t handle the extreme volumes we play. Normally, my guitar can only get the gauge to push to the -15 mark, but when the band chimes in, it hits red and stays red. I turn up the noisegate to 30 db, but it still can’t shut down the signal. That means that my guitar is picking up WAY too much signal.

There’s little I can do about it. I think I’ll still keep the unit. It will prolly come in handy for live shows, but when you play in a living room with two drummers, a bassist, and vocs, there’s little you can do to muffle the sound enough.

Gear

Obviously, I haven’t been writing much. Blah, so what? Maybe I’ve found a new outlet? Not so frustrated now, are we? Now that practices are back in session.

Anyhoo, we found a new singer. Our DJ got a keyboard and was making some funky sounds the other day. I finally got my debts paid off so I can buy better gear. Plus I’m working full time now. Also we couldn’t afford for wife to go to school so she’s working, too.

It’s nice to finally have some extra money and buy some gear.

The first thing I bought was a new amp. Nothing special: a Carvin solid state 2×12. Decent sound, but those speaker buzz when I push the volume past 7. I can’t say I blame them. That’s an awful lot of sound for such little speakers.

Then I was trying to buy some rack gear: a sonic maximizer/compressor (to regulate and enhance the sound), a power conditioner (to clean up the AC supply), and a rack case to hold the racks.

Now here’s where my story gets long.

About a year ago, I bought some gear from Musicians Friend (MF). Included was a Peavey Powered speaker. This is a 270 Watt PA system that would allow me to generate more sound for my (then) singing w/o having to shout so much.

I bought it under the clearance section. The ad said that it came with full warranty. In fact, MF’s used Peavey ads still say they come with full warranty. MF has a fairly generous return policy. You can return most anything for any reason withing the first 45 days.

Well, go figure, my Peavey amp broke down on day 47. No problem, I figure, I’ve got a warranty. Not only that, but I bought the EXTRA protection MF offers at the check out. I called MF, figuring I would talk to Customer Service (CS) and they could help me figure out how to activate my warranty. I did this because the amp came with no paper work, cards, etc. I was directed to Peavey, who took the serial number from the amp, and asked if I was “_______” (some name I don’t remember). No, I wasn’t. Well, it turns out the douchebag who owned the amp before me (since it was used) activated the warranty, but when the amp lemoned him, he returned rather than go through Peavey.

Thus, I was informed that Peavey DOES NOT warranty used equipment.

I’ll try to give you the montage version, but I called MF, Peavey, and the third rate insurance company (who informed me that the extra insurance was void since they only EXTEND the original manufacter’s warranty, I was null and void, MF should have never offered me their coverage, and that my coverage was thereby nullified (btw: purchasing equipment w/ Visa, MC, and American Express gives you that same coverage that MF offers at checkout. I know because I checked) multiple times over the next month. Finally I bullied my way to talk to a manager and demanded my money back due to fraud. He sent me a return slip right away and I mailed the amp back the same day.

Long story short, MF has the WORST Customer service I have ever encountered.

This time around, I didn’t want to deal with MF. I found a website call music123.com. Though the website looked strangely familiar to MF’s site, nothing on the site indicated they were affiliated. I bought the rack gear and the rack from there.

First, I got the power condition. It ONE piece of packing paper which did nothing to prevent it from rattling around. I plugged it in and it still worked. So no problems there. Then I got the rack. But it wasn’t a rack for rack gear, but a drum rack. I didn’t even open up the box. I got on the phone and called up music123. The dude I talked to said I would get a return label in the next two hours.

The next day I check my email. When I saw no return label, I emailed music123.com. The return msg said that my msg was received and that it would take up 24 hours to get a response. On Monday, w/ still no response or return label, I called up again. Talked to someone who actually sounded like he didn’t toke for a living, who said that the previous guy forgot to add the “.com” to my email address.

This morning, I got the return tag. Sure enough, it’s being mailed back to Musician’s Friend. The label came directly from UPS, so I doubt that they fucked that one up. More than likely my gut instinct was confirmed: I got MF’d again.