Neil Fein's Blog

Yesterday morning I interrupted my no-caffeine 5/7 regimen. I had a splitting headache that wouldn't go away and I was having trouble concentrating at work. Two cups of coffee later, it was the afternoon and I was headed home.

Oddly enough I didn't mind the traffic on the Jersey Turnpike. I cranked the radio up to eleven and rocked my way home in the building snowstorm. It occurred to me I could burn this surplus energy using it to get some recording done. Not that I've been procrastinating, no no no. But I do have a self-imposed deadline for the demo -- principal recording to be complete by the end of March.

I pulled up to the house, and stowed my sunglasses in the car. After pounding snow off my shoes, I went into my studio and listened to what I had done so far on There's That Song. Not bad, but it needed more energy. Then I noticed that the acoustic guitar tracks and the guide vocal were all acting strange -- they were cutting in and out at odd times. "That's okay," I thought, "I don't need no guide tracks, anyway!" And I deleted them. Fortunately, I had had the presence of mind to back everything up, first. So I could nuke tracks with abandon.

At this point, I had piano, drums, and bass -- all MIDI, synthesizer tracks. The bass sounded damn lifeless. And my last stab at a "real" bass track was pretty bad. Let's try again! Hooking up an amp simulator, I plugged the bass in, tuned it, and ran through the song quickly. I recorded three very good takes, all a little hyper, and all with one or two mistakes. That's okay -- I got a computer for a reason. Copy, paste, copy paste... I soon had a new track, "Bass guitar takes 2-4". I listened to it again -- it sounded good, no obvious places where you could hear the splices. So I deleted the original takes, hitting the delete key with a flourish.

Let's see... It needed a guitar. I plugged in the guitar and dialed up a nasty-sounding grungy guitar sound. I was starting to mellow out a little, so I drilled down to a filler sound. I thought about recording it as two takes, one for rhythm and one for lead, but noodling around convinced me it should be done all in one shot, similar to what I do on stage with Kate. I had some momentum, and nailed it in two takes, subtracting false starts. It took me a while to nail the intro, but when I put the intro on loop, I played it over and over until I got it right.

I laid down a vocal take to cap it off, just so there'd be something for reference mixes. It sounded pretty good.

It still sounded good a few hours later, so I'm optimistic. I'll listen again when I get home, will see if I still like it.

music

Ticket to Ride: Inside the Beatles' 1964 & 1965 Tours That Changed the World
by Larry Kane

KANE: John, rumors have it you asked [security if you could] wave out the window.
LENNON: Well, it's the least we could do. We're going to ask today to wave. They won't let us wave. They worry it will incite the crowd.

Larry Kane is without a doubt converted to one of the more recent schools of thought in journalism, that sees the detached observer as a myth. No journalist can be a fly on the wall, particularly in an age where tape recorders were the size of small briefcases. The man is a fan, as well as an excellent writer and a sharp observer. This is the first Beatle book I've read that insisted I read it all, now.

On the Beatles' 1964 and 1965 tours, the band travelled by bus and airplane, and a small circle of journalists travelled with them, feeding "exclusives" and what we'd now call sound bytes back to their stations and papers. Much is made of the fact the Mr. Kane was the only journalist to travel with the entirety of both North American tours. While he is a respected journalist, and his other stories are mentioned in passing, he has become known as that reporter who traveled with the Fab Four to a ridiculous degree.

Nevertheless, the authour does have a balanced viewpoint, an appropriately bland voice. When the material is magical, the narrator must of neccesity ground the story by countering the tone.

The chapters with stories of teen fans who would do anything at all to even meet a Beatle for a moment or three make up for this. Ticket to Ride also shows us just how deadly mobs can be, and just how many times the entire tour was almost cancelled in the wake of fan violence. The Beatles truly did hang by a thread in their early days. Perhaps they later felt a lack, and manufactured their own tensions within the group to serve the purpose. While there are few overarching narratives extending beyond a chapter or two, the story of Mr. Kane himself serves as a tenuous framework grounding the fantasyland of the tours in the tidings of radio ratings, career climbers, and handguns.

The Beatles need no introduction, of course. Insert your favorite sort of fawning paragraph indicating their achievements and influence on popular music, and we'll consider this a done deal.

Stories of the tour are legion, of course, and most center around the fans. Looking at films of screaming fans, the girls and boys in the audiences looks faintly embarassing to fans in the Noughties. But these kids didn't grow up with the musical, lyrical and political sophistriation that John, Paul, George, and Ringo gave to popular culture. It would seem we're long overdue for another muse, considering the vacuous state of most modern music.

John, Paul, George, and Ringo. We hear the names a lot, and always in that order. Mr. Kane noticed that, when he addressed the lads as a foursome, they had established their own pecking sequence in keeping with the politics within the group, and they invariably would respond in order. Observations as perceptive as these are impressive, but they are too few, alas.

Whatever the flaws of this book, they are minor in compariton to its merits. Mr. Kane had a wonderful story to tell, and, like the Liverpool lads themselves, he cleverly told the parts of it that leave the reader wanting to hear more. it's a wonderfully seductive volume, and a highly rewarding one.

books

I don't usually blog about blogging, but this needs to be mentioned:

Hello, loyal readers! It's been brought to my attention that folks didn't realize there's a new feature: Commenting!

Please feel free to leave comments when you have something to say. Clicking on the "X Comments" link at the bottom of each post will open a window into which you can type your pearls of wisdom.

You also do not need to sign up in order to leave a comment. Feel free to leave comments as "Anonymous", but if you want me to know who you are, just type your name. Like this:

This post sucked ass. Can't you learn to spell? --Bruce

Or maybe this:

You can't write for shit, stop wasting my time with this HeyI'mOnTheWebLookitMe site. --Jake

Maybe this:

Re: Your review of Pretentious Thick Novel, I'd say you haven't grasped the fundamental dichotomies of your position. Perhaps you should read the author's previous work, You Think You Can Read? I Spit On Your Substandard American Male Literacy, which she wrote in prison, painfully etching the words onto the concrete walls with her fingernails. This might shed some light on your naive interpretation of feminist theory. --Sharon

(Although it's worth pointing out: If you do register, it'll automagically display your handle and a picture of your choosing next to the comments, for those who drill down and look at the comments. It's kinda cool.)

Nevertheless, thanks for reading. We now return to your regularly scheduled blog.

Coming soon: Reviews of Ticket to Ride, Golden Fleece, and Blink.

Bruce is a drummer, although he'll tell you he's not a "real" drummer. His thing is "found percussion", generally tupperware and pots and pans, whacked with a pair of plastic drum brushes.

Artistic Differences showed up at my apartment yesterday for a recording session. Bruce showed up first, and after we dealt with the important business of verifying that his backup drive worked with my Mac, I set up a card table, on which he placed, with all solemnity, the tools of his trade. He ended up using a circular tupperware, a tall, square rubbermaid container, a tambourine, a flat, round aluminum gift box, and the tray from my toaster oven. It was around here that Bruce realized he'd not brought a cymbal.

(There's another story in all this, involving faulty plumbing, ductwork, and odiferous laundry. It really doesn't mix in, though, and so I continue with the main narrative.)

By this point, Grazina had arrived, and we were about the important business of brewing tea. Can't have an ArtDiff session without tea, you know. Tea with chocolate is even better. After our pre-session bull session in the kitchen, we took our mugs into the studio, placing them in locations that looked safe from being knocked over into something electronic and expensive. There are not many such surfaces left in that room.

We then had the task of miking the drum table. After much consternation, and a mike that wasn't cooperating, we settled on one mic, a largeish condenser mic, suspended from over the table. I now know how to mic Bruce's drums. After three or four takes, resulting in one decent track, Bruce figured that he couldn't get it together because he'd forgotten that cymbal. He went through one more "experimental" take.

(At this point, there was a slight exodus to deal with the aforementioned plumbing and duct issues in the basement. But I digress.)

The object of the experimental take is to try different things, with no regard for actually using the take. When we listened to the ExTake, we heard a few things that sounded good, some that were bad. I plugged in a keyboard and hooked it to drum sounds, and played the take again, hitting a "cymbal" at appropriate times; that's what it needs.

At this point, the session was effectively over, as Grazina was having fun playing with the drum sounds. We resolved that at the next session, Bruce would bring his cymbal.

music

We've been going through my comics, organizing them and pulling anything out we thought we'd never read or was generally terrible. We purchased the trade paperbacks below with credit from these. (Sorry if this post looks odd; Blogger doesn't like tables.)

	Global Frequency: Planet Ablaze A good beginning to this action/scifi/paranoid series.
	Global Frequency: Detonation Radio Better than the first volume, but gets a little uneven. The final story is downright creepy.
	Fables Vol. 4: March of the Wooden Soldiers While an improvement on the last volume, this series still hasn't recaptured the heights of its first 12 or so issues. Keep in mind, that's only by comparison with itself; Fables is still one of the best monthly books being released, if not the best one, period.
	Superman: Secret Identity A fun, angsty story about a kid who "just happens" to be named Clark who, surprise surprise, finds out he has powers like the fictional guy with the "S" on his chest. This book is fun for a day you want to turn your brain off, but Mr. Busiek has done far, far better. Check out Avengers Forever, or anything at all in the Astro City series.
	Arrowsmith: So Smart in their Fine Uniforms And speaking of Kurt Busiek... this is a WWII story, but in a world where the balance of power is tipped not by tech, but by magic! Not particularly an original idea, but the world of Arrowsmith is very well thought out and engaging, and the characters are deep, likeable, and dimensional. This is not light reading, but it's one of the better books to come out recently.
	The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy As much as I love the radio play and the books, this comics adaptation isn't up to snuff. We got it out of a bin marked "Free!" It was easily worth the price.
	New X-Men: Academy X: Choosing Sides The New Mutants ride again. Fun, light, and safely void of any actual thought or sophistication.
	X-Men: Children of the Atom SEE the behind-the-scenes story of Xavier and how he set up his school. GASP as he cuts an under-the-table deal with the FBI to get things running. BE INDIFFERENT as we see the backstories of Worthington, Grey, Drake, and the others... This book is very good, in that it portrays a sense of time, a sense of belonging. But Children of the Atom falls through when it gets to the level of the protagonists, the kids. The cardboard characters of the villians are more real than Xavier himself is, and the single best story is that of Agent Drake going up against his boss, and we don't get enough of that. Fleshing Drake out at the expense of others could have saved this book. That said, it's certainly better than some of the other X-dreck we've seen over the years. For true greatness, look no further than the later Claremont/Byrne issues, or the current Joss Whedon books. Some of the Exiles run isn't bad, either.

Note: This entry has been updated. I added the last book, and there's one to go.

...will continue to add to this. All done.

It's finally dead:

It's amazing how much a fast computer changes my routine at home. Pre-iMac, I'd get home from work and right off switch on the Mac. By the time I'd changed into jeans and taken my dinnertime meds and such the mac might be ready for me.

Now, I get home, do my thing, and when I'm ready just walk over to the iMac and switch it on. Within ten seconds it's booted up and ready to log on to the net. Coool. These days, my weekends (when I'm not recording) are being taken up with a new computer hobby -- chat. Chat is evil, chat is fun. And many folks I know have IM or yahoo IDs.

Have been recording There's That Song... will post a mix when I lay down a vocal and such, or when it sounds decent. But recording on the computer is different; I'm spending more time planning, and the actual takes are easier (maybe 'cos I can edit them later). But overall it's about the same amount of work.

Martha and I found a new comics store. Comic Depot, off of Oak Tree Road (in with the Shop-Rite). It's really an older store under new management, but the new folks seem very nice.

Blogger's spell-check dictionary seems to be lacking a lot of words... among them is the word "blog". Speaking of blogging, Steve of the metal foosball table has a brand new blog . Go, read and enjoy!

We had about 25 Haboger folks over here for Shabbes services and dinner! The place was pleasantly crowded.

But we didn't have the Haboger siddurim (they're still with the last folks who hosted), so we had to make do with siddurs from our bookshelf. We ended up having a service with everyone looking at slightly different versions of the same prayer. Kinda cool.

And dinner was a good ol- buffet, with folks crowding around the table to get food before it was all eaten. And Marianne made challah from scratch! Mmmm...