23rd. October 1997
IG arrived in Orlando first, on 7th. September 1997, and the rest of us arrived in dribs and drabs. I dribbed in a few days later on the 9th. Sept to write with IG, IP drabbed in a few days after that, and JL dribbed and SM drabbed in about a week later. Anyway, the upshot of all this dribbing and drabbing is that the actual recording session started on the 19th. September 1997 (at 12 noon, for all you punctualists).
Our loyal and hard working recording engineer, computer operator, counselor, and fashion consultant is Darren Schneider, who has had the good fortune, or otherwise, to still be there since the last album.
We have taken a break in the proceedings for a week. Therefore we have been ‘hard at it’, as they say in musical circles, for the best part of five weeks. Heads down again next week.
During that time there have been successes, failures (hardly any), jokes, laughter, practice, a lot of fiddling with wires, tuning up, listening, writing, driving, gossiping, tripping up, brain surgery, focusing, making tea, brewing coffee, thinking, looking, recording, rewinding, fast forwarding, unpacking, learning, arguing (nicely, thank you), darts, sleeping, smoking, flying, drinking, saying ‘oops’, cooking, concentrating, dialing, reading, an enormous amount of pushing buttons, filing, searching, eating, correcting, uncorking, mending, programming, looking at the sky and muttering about the price of potatoes, planning, plugging in, complaining, sorting out, complimenting, watching, and playing tennis (IG and Charlie narrowly beat RG and Colin 6-2, 4-6, 7-5 yesterday).
There are twelve items (so far….) on the agendum, not all of which will make the album methinks, but who knows? The general tone of the album is tough, being the result of a direct manipulation of the outermost sensory organs by means of careful voltage control, high decibel regeneration, and the redistribution of particles of human madness and pure logic interwoven into subdivisions of the connected sections of powerful riffage placed cunningly between the start and finish of each piece.
Of those twelve songs, five have so far been adorned with lyrics (the rest play themselves in mute abandon on the DAT player while IG and I wrestle – I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no, not yet).
Solos have been attacked on about half the tunes but are fighting back.
There is a strange dichotomy at work here: we know what we’re about but we don’t know what we’re doing. Or the other way around.
At least one live performance has been salvaged from the May writing session.
An idea born in 1987 at a rehearsal has found a new life.
One song, The Stallion, didn’t make it to the last album but has made it to this, and has been, thankfully, butchered in the process. It will be called something else. No not Something Else, that was by Eddie Cochran in 19 fifty something, and in my humble onion was a very, very early example of hard rock, long before hard rock was an item, and I love it……… but I digress.
The atmosphere in the studio is very happy, confident, and relaxed – must be the cleaning alcohol, toothpaste, and palm trees.
Working titles will not be divulged at the present time due to mostly governmental pressure. All in good time, as some unforgettable character in a famous book probably once said. Probably.