Notes from the Recording Studio. . .

I've been spending some time in the studio working on demos for a new record. I suffer from demo-itis a lot of the time; I make really fast sketches of songs that have a lot of energy, but lack polish. The plan is always to go back and do a "better" recording based on the demo. But, after listening to the sketch demo a few times, it becomes the song for me, and it's difficult to live with anything that doesn't have that same first-time energy.

3 steps down the road towards solving this problem:

1. Become a good enough player that I can get a great first or second take.

2. Work on song building (as opposed to writing) before hitting the record button.

3. Write down song structures so I don't have to relearn parts from quick demos.

Most of it involves planning and discipline. Not being lazy lazy lazy lazy lazy lazy lazy.

It took me two days to write this 200 word blog post.

Hmmmm. . .

MMXI

Alright.

Now.

I resolve to formalize the time I spent on my creative efforts. Specific to discipline, be it film-making, writing, song-writing, music-recording, times will be allocated and regimented.

Regimented?

I'm not sure that works there.

Add time for editing.

Rewind. . . and play. . .

Specific to discipline, be it film-making, writing, song-writing, music-recording; times will be allocated and maintained.

Better?

I'm not sure.

It's all very confusing.

When I was trying to become an English teacher (alright, lets be fair, I was actually trying to not live in my parents basement forever, and maybe meet some girls), I decided that I would write a novel, get it published, and not need to complete the plan I already had grown bored and jaded with. So, I had never written anything longer than 4000 words. Books are like 80,000 words. Small books. So, like the German army at the end of WW2, instead of going, "well, it'll take me a week to write a quality 500 words, so I should probably plan to finish the novel in like 5 years", I instead picked a long-term goal, and then forced the short-term issue (side note, I wrote a really long side note explaining the WW2 analogy and then erased it because it seemed a bit much; email me for details). I wrote 500 words a day, no exceptions, editing in spare time, and a bit at the end, and wrote my novel in about 8 months. I have no illusions about it being a great work of fiction, but I got it done, published it myself, and I never look back and wonder what would've happened if I really tried to write a novel. I can go to my bookshelf.

I'm looking to regain my foolhardy aspirations and the discipline they require.

Also, I should stop staying up late and rambling on my blog. . .

And a big shout-out to anyone in England reading this. Man, I'm sure that Blogger's stats have no idea what's going on. Adam, do you know anything about their accuracy?

Toronto, Tony, and Jolly Ol' St. Nick. . .

Played my first show in Toronto in 7 or 8 years. Thanks Nick and Steph for asking me along. The family came to the city and we hung with my awesome Aunt and Uncle (and don't forget cousin Tom!). The gig was at a little upstairs of a bar. The Peat Bros had a film crew there to try and capture their incredible live energy; made the performance a bit strange, with the audience back 10 feet while two bigs guys pointed cameras in our faces (alright, not so much in my face -- there's a reason the band is The Peat Brothers).

A very strange side note, and wearing my glasses for more than just the set could've helped here, but I managed not to recognize my good friend Anthony Addario, who was apparently playing drums for one of the other bands on the bill. 10 Years and we all look just different enough, I guess. So, Salut Tony! Glad to see you're still playing music. I'll catch up with you the next time we're randomly on a bill together in a city I nearly never visit -- or hopefully sooner!

Peja and Christopher recorded this song for Christopher's Grandparents' Christmas present. Enjoy!

Back to the Mansion. . .

Here's a pic from the Peat Brothers show on Thursday in the Living Room at the Mansion. Nobody told me it was vest night. Or that I shouldn't look like I'm reading music charts.

Hauled the littlest P.A. ever to the Mansion last night for a 40th birthday party for my friend Mark. It was an open mic thing -- I was too busy last week to put any cover tunes together, but The Trash Daddies let me sit in and play some rhythm guitar with their second set, and I through in a shortened version of Weezer's Undone. The crowd was a bit older than me, and Mark kept singing "pull this string as I walk away" instead of "pull this thread. . .", but it was still very fun. I also managed to steal a piece of cake for Sienna. Oh yeah.

Another Peat Bros gig. . .

Played some bass with The Peat Brothers last night at the Mansion. Once again they had some amazing fan support, and the sing-along on the last number was pretty awesome. I meant to take my camera and video-tape some of the set, but somewhere between finding a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt, and drinking a litre or so of black tea trying to wake up, I forgot.

Next time.

Thanks again to the Peat Bros for inviting me, Sienna for minding the herd, and Ladies of the Canyon for letting us open for them.