The First Two Weeks
We've taken tracks from Jan's computer and from my Akai machine and loaded
them on to Mark's computer. This has been tedious for Mark and Matt. This
has been tedious for Jan too. But this is especially tedious for me. I walk
in from time to time to see if all is well or try to say as nicely as I
can if things have changed from the basic order. This is very hard for me.
I keep trying though I find myself thinking that at least thier working
on the music. I'm still dealing with Geoff on the housekeeper, the chief,
the plants in the garden and Sal the plant killer.. And of course, the on
going water problems which is much better now. The water is no longer brown.
It's yellow now. They have to flush the pipes every week. John I think is
his name. He's the guy I'm supposed to call.
Perception; things will settle down. I don't really have the
talent for this stuff.
A Different Perspective; my assistant and my prodution co-ordinator
need to come and deal with this.
The Second Two Weeks
We do more over dubs and tracking. Having sound problems. The music sounds
bottom heavy,and Mark suggests using tubes. On Wed. we have a meeting. Geoff
brings the man who invented these tubes. He's absolutely right about our
problem and we didn't have to tell him. He knows what he's talking about.
We will get the tubes. If all goes well, we'll have the tubes in time for
Scooter's arrival. It's always nice to hear what the hell your doing.
Perception;
We're doing something new here. We're learning about it as we go. It's the
nature of the beast. This is a wonderful place.
A Different Perspective;
Wed. night we see Tricky perform. Mark is happy, I think he misses
his friend. I'm happy to be out and hear live music. Big Kat is here too.
She came down to meet us. Tricky's music took me someplace else. Someplace
dark sometimes dreamy and at times very sad.. I can never really hide what
I am feeling too well. I always say it's something else. This time I'll
pretend my eyes are tearing from all the smoke and go into the ladies room.
On my way the music haunts me. I can't help thinking of Miles Davis. He
tried so hard to fuse Jazz and Hip Hop. Miles might have loved Tricky. I
can't help thinking of Paul T either. He was Miles's last assistant. He
.would have loved this music too. You know at one time Paul was my assistant
and my friend. In fact I told him once he had to be my friend, that it was
part of his job. He and David my husband, used to laugh at that. I miss
Paul. He passed away. I wish David was here. I get so lonely in a crowd.
It's funny to me how the light in the ladies room always shocks me into
a new reality. I think it's partially because you think you look one way
and the lights in there make you look like you should run and hide very
quickly. Waiting on line and washing hands always seem like a social moment
to me. So I speak to this young dame next to me. She says she don't look
too good right now. Seems to me everyone's in the same boat here. So I say
to her something like, "You're a pretty young woman and you look good."
I try and be supportive. She says to me she is a girl, and very emphatically
too, not mad just emphatic. Then she saids that my music ment a lot to her
growing up. Then she appologized cause I guess she thought that made me
old. I figure, how old could she be 20? So what are we talking here. I guess
the lights are especially bad tonight. Anyway she's kind of sweet and she
thanks me for making her night.
Perception;
I should be writing down all the conversations going on between the stalls
just as they are. Classic lines like"And then I said to him I didn't
care.".. Answer from the other stall "Well good, you shouldn't
care. Why the hell should ya?"...and " We all went out on Friday.
Hey any toilet paper? Oh Great... " And all the self slander that goes
on because of the hidious lighting. I am just not quick enough to write
it all down. But I don't think the whole conversation is important just
pieces recited as if they were one ..and all out of context. Anyway I'm
writing something in my new note book , the one with the plastic orange
cover. The one that David bought me. It's a little strange, but maybe I'll
recite it over something unrelated...When I leave the ladies room the girl
who said my music ment a lot to her comes up to me again. She says "
Boy you were in there a long time!" I say "Yes but I had to write
something down."
Her perspective?
She might think that the air is just no good in these kind of places.
Thursday:
We were going to check out a studio but the manager of the studio changes
our appointment to another day. We don't see George Marino at Sterling Sound.
It seems a waste knowing we're going to change the sound with the tubes..
Better to wait and record what the new sounds are like and listen with George
on his system. It'll give us a better prospective of where we stand with
the sound we're getting..
..By the time we get back to the house poor Martin Knowels has called. He
is on his way to give us shiatsu massages. He is running late and got a
little lost on account of a turn he thought he should take but didn't. Joe
the cook didn't know we were sleeping over in the city so he was worried.
Our Portuguese houskeeper June doesn't speak English well enough to tell
us, but she was looking a little traumatized. ..
Perception;
Guess I was a little careless..
Mark has his massage first, before dinner. But when he walks out from it
I think to myself this guy's just going to fall down. I've never seen him
so relaxed. Matt, Marks' assistant, says he's never seen him like that either.
When I come out from my massage I thought I looked better than Mark did.
Maybe it was just better lighting. Anyway, it helps the sound of my voice
to be full. I always try to physically improve my sound. After dinner we'll
do some sampling. That's it..
Friday
We do over dubs on Mother. Everything sounds great till I start to sing.
Here's where grey gets greyer. It all takes a terrible turn and suddenly
I feel I should have sung it in Db. I always sing in the black keys. I just
want to try the natural D for a change. But I think I am wrong. What a pain.
Either I do it again or we time stretch all the live stuff. Which don't
take too long if you like the feeling of aging while you wait. Anyway I
don't know. Mark thinks it's the melody in the verse but that's not what
my instinct tells me. I'm not sure but I do know that it'll come to me with
a little distance. It's that perspective thing again.
I have to find a character in my voice. A sound and texture. Then the phrasing
will come. I have to know who's singing. I imagine that I am a bit like
a figure head on a boat. I have been seeing this lately in my head. This
boat, this voice that I keep taking out on journeys far and wide. Gliding,
gliding kind of slow through the fog, and so I think of a smooth smokey
sound like that of an ancient horn whose sound cuts through the heart of
it all and brings me to shore. I don't know exactly why I feel this. It's
just what I feel. I have to loose myself in the sound to find this place.
Not many people understand the way I feel about my voice or about sound.
I've always believed that sound and rhythm are the gateways to magic. That
in fact my voice was a gift given to me by a Whirling Dervish and a Banshee.
And that in some strange way I have to spin around as fast as I can or listen
into the wind for their ghosts to find out how to magically work it. This
may be too deep and better left unsaid to Mark and Matt who I've just met.
So since then, instead of singing "Mother" to myself I 'm singing
mother f*!ker. But it'll come to me. Maybe I'll just have to treat it like
a cat. The track sounds so good I can't stand that the fact that I can't
place my voice yet. The singing must seem so simple but it is not. It's
all inside and that's what makes it so hard.
Perception;
It's still just a little grey.
Perspective;
none yet.
..Sat.
Ice cream, Matt, and a pie. Mark is unsure about verse melody. I've got
to wait for Jan. Maybe I'll just write a new song with Mark.
A Different Prospective?
I like what Mark plays. This could be a good song here...
peace to you,
Cyn
