We had three “rehearsals” under our belt. Three? The clock was running. Soon, we were going to be in the studio. We had set the date for recording less than a month earlier. Three rehearsals?!
My feelings and thoughts ran the gamut from meaningful to picayune. Excitement? Yes. Anticipation? Yes. Anxiety? Yes. Did I know what really to expect? No. Was I completely ready? No. Was I going to be flummoxed if we play short of perfection? No. Was I worried? Not yet. Had I ordered food? Not yet. Had I bought beer? Not yet.
Only one of us was experienced with this recording stuff. What would my responsibilities? What would we have to schlep up to Flying Whale? Paul’s e-mail took care of my concerns, “Bring Glenn, the drums, and your guitar and pedals.” That was a pretty short list -- too short to my obsessive way of thinking. So my thought was, “Yeah, I’ll bring Glenn but I’ll also bring food.”
The next step in the project was coming up. Then, in terms of creativity or performance, we were down to recording, mixing and mastering and playing at some “CD Release Party.” Otherwise, we would be involved only in process and production. The end was getting closer . . . after three rehearsals.
Did I even imagine this when Becky gave me the Costco Starcaster? Not in my wildest dreams!
The clock kept ticking down. One week. Then a couple of days. Then one day to go. Glenn, Don, and I would have our first day in a studio.
The anxiety, anticipation, and excitement continued to build. In less than 24 hours, we would see if we were ready.
But what would "being ready" be? I guessed that it was not limited to being able to play the songs. I knew that I knew them and that I could play them. Mistake free? Well, that would be another matter.
The day before heading to Flying Whale, I was full of nervous energy. No "day job" work was going to get done. So the day became a day of preparation -- in the non-playing sense. Re-string the Jazzmaster. Rotosound or D’Addario? Since I had D’Addario, why use something else or something new? Tighten up the tremolo so it no longer hangs loosely -- and ispretty much useless -- resting against the plug and cord.
After re-stringing, I cleaned up and polished the Jazzmaster to its brand new luster. As I worked on it, I thought, “How would this sound with new pick-ups? How would it look with a new pick guard?” Funny how guitarists always are contemplating their next guitar or modification of their existing guitar.
I took the drums down and packed them into my Prius. Amazingly, the car easily held a drum set, hardware, pedal board, two guitars, and a storage box of cords and other items.
But we were not taking the Prius to Flying Whale. Becky arranged to borrow a SUV -- complete with snow chains! Rain or snow, we were going to record. Only a blizzard or power outage could keep us from laying down the tracks which ultimately will become part of Posterity -- or "Into the Flow." A blizzard, however, was not likely. The forecast from Grass Valley was sunny and cold. No chain requirements. No snow. No rain. No fog. No inclement weather.
That forecast had to be a harbinger of fun.
Equipment. Check. Chains. Check. Songs. Check.
Don't forget food. Flying Whale Recording Studio is not next to a McDonald’s, Peet's, or Starbucks. According to Paul, “it is pretty much in the middle of nowhere.” It really is. That meant figure out cold cuts, cheese, vegetables, wine, beer, and water. Add a bottle opener! Cork screw! Packed in my guitar case.
Getting ready for two days "in the middle of nowhere" meant that the storage area of my guitar case had all essentials: tuner, cords, picks, extra strings, bottle opener, and sommelier’s tool.
Better to overpack. The inconvenience of not having a cork screw could dampen our experience. Our goal was to have fun. To have pleasant memories of this adventure.
Glenn, Don, and I did not know what to expect. We had to look to Paul for guidance. His advice assuaged much of the anxiety. “Let’s record something that shows that we are having fun. Anybody can come up with something that is perfectly on time and does not miss a note. Perfect is not fun. Let’s have fun.”
Those words made me contemplate the whole getting ready process. Was I anticipating the upcoming recording session? Yes. Was I excited? Yes. Did I believe that we were going to have fun? Yes.
My feelings and thoughts ran the gamut from meaningful to picayune. Excitement? Yes. Anticipation? Yes. Anxiety? Yes. Did I know what really to expect? No. Was I completely ready? No. Was I going to be flummoxed if we play short of perfection? No. Was I worried? Not yet. Had I ordered food? Not yet. Had I bought beer? Not yet.
Only one of us was experienced with this recording stuff. What would my responsibilities? What would we have to schlep up to Flying Whale? Paul’s e-mail took care of my concerns, “Bring Glenn, the drums, and your guitar and pedals.” That was a pretty short list -- too short to my obsessive way of thinking. So my thought was, “Yeah, I’ll bring Glenn but I’ll also bring food.”
The next step in the project was coming up. Then, in terms of creativity or performance, we were down to recording, mixing and mastering and playing at some “CD Release Party.” Otherwise, we would be involved only in process and production. The end was getting closer . . . after three rehearsals.
Did I even imagine this when Becky gave me the Costco Starcaster? Not in my wildest dreams!
The clock kept ticking down. One week. Then a couple of days. Then one day to go. Glenn, Don, and I would have our first day in a studio.
The anxiety, anticipation, and excitement continued to build. In less than 24 hours, we would see if we were ready.
But what would "being ready" be? I guessed that it was not limited to being able to play the songs. I knew that I knew them and that I could play them. Mistake free? Well, that would be another matter.
The day before heading to Flying Whale, I was full of nervous energy. No "day job" work was going to get done. So the day became a day of preparation -- in the non-playing sense. Re-string the Jazzmaster. Rotosound or D’Addario? Since I had D’Addario, why use something else or something new? Tighten up the tremolo so it no longer hangs loosely -- and ispretty much useless -- resting against the plug and cord.
After re-stringing, I cleaned up and polished the Jazzmaster to its brand new luster. As I worked on it, I thought, “How would this sound with new pick-ups? How would it look with a new pick guard?” Funny how guitarists always are contemplating their next guitar or modification of their existing guitar.
I took the drums down and packed them into my Prius. Amazingly, the car easily held a drum set, hardware, pedal board, two guitars, and a storage box of cords and other items.
But we were not taking the Prius to Flying Whale. Becky arranged to borrow a SUV -- complete with snow chains! Rain or snow, we were going to record. Only a blizzard or power outage could keep us from laying down the tracks which ultimately will become part of Posterity -- or "Into the Flow." A blizzard, however, was not likely. The forecast from Grass Valley was sunny and cold. No chain requirements. No snow. No rain. No fog. No inclement weather.
That forecast had to be a harbinger of fun.
Equipment. Check. Chains. Check. Songs. Check.
Don't forget food. Flying Whale Recording Studio is not next to a McDonald’s, Peet's, or Starbucks. According to Paul, “it is pretty much in the middle of nowhere.” It really is. That meant figure out cold cuts, cheese, vegetables, wine, beer, and water. Add a bottle opener! Cork screw! Packed in my guitar case.
Getting ready for two days "in the middle of nowhere" meant that the storage area of my guitar case had all essentials: tuner, cords, picks, extra strings, bottle opener, and sommelier’s tool.
Better to overpack. The inconvenience of not having a cork screw could dampen our experience. Our goal was to have fun. To have pleasant memories of this adventure.
Glenn, Don, and I did not know what to expect. We had to look to Paul for guidance. His advice assuaged much of the anxiety. “Let’s record something that shows that we are having fun. Anybody can come up with something that is perfectly on time and does not miss a note. Perfect is not fun. Let’s have fun.”
Those words made me contemplate the whole getting ready process. Was I anticipating the upcoming recording session? Yes. Was I excited? Yes. Did I believe that we were going to have fun? Yes.