Unintelligent design (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} drtboi) wrote,@ 2006-09-14 15:38:00 |
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Notes from the underground
It's June. The show's in October. We are to open for a band from out of town and a continent or two away. I think it's their first US tour. We're minus a drummer, but we have several leads. I'm the new guitarist, and I've spent the last two months learning the set plus some songs for the new album (the ones that have been written - about half).
Drummers are gold. You find a drummer, you hold on. I recommend taking beloved family members or pets hostage.
Candidate one is young. Full of bad ideas. And a guitarist at heart. Great grasp of music, learns fast, hits the drums a little harder than our gray tabby would. Has all the swing of Louis Armstrong - Louis Armstrong now, not when he was alive. Yes, you need swing to play primitive black/death with lyrics mostly involving the murder/rape of our lord and savior Jesus H. Christ and the destruction of His followers.
He teaches me a new game - Blame the Guitarist. If you can't get the drums right, the guitarist must be fucking up. Closely related to Blame the Whiteboy, but less fun. Candidate one goes on the backburner. Hopefully something else will come up.
Now it's July 1st.
Candidate two is a friend of a friend. Just moved to town. Been playing 12 years. Gets stuck on the second riff of the first song. See, the first cycle through the riff has an extra beat - it's five total. Subsequent cycles are four beats. You have to either feel the riff or have minor technical skills. Candidate two discovers a fondness for the Blame the Guitarist game. Candidate two goes over his beer limit. That'd be two mild beers, the limit. By the middle of his third beer, he's ranting: "do your fans like that?" (the five beats) "Why would you do that?" He wants to jam on some Metallica or Maiden. The bassist refuses to play anything but this squeaky horn thing that you squeeze. Bassist's response to jamming: "Err-ee! Err-ee!", shaking his head. Candidate two passes out on the floor.
We're coming up on August pretty quickly.
Candidate three is a friend of a friend and a cool guy. Another guitarist at heart. He's got his own band that he digs. He likes us, and wants to help. We practice twice together. He's got an obvious love of Lombardo (who doesn't?), but that second riff catches him up every time. Second practice, we three exit to a nearby bar to discuss privately - should we try to go on with this guy? We don't want to hurt his feelings. He shows up at the bar (everybody shows up there, eventually), tells us not to worry about hurting his feelings - he doesn't know if he can cut it. It's a bittersweet end.
Middle of August, and now we're talking about cancelling the show. Ancient ex-bandmates are called to duty, but they have no duty with that prefix in front of their titles. Should we cancel? What else can we do?
I know another guitarist. He can drum. But I don't think he wants to. I call. He's stoked. It's been a dry summer, playing-wise. Tried to break out of the metal box, started missing it's confines. He'll do his best.
End of August, first practice. That second riff - tries it, fucks up. "Hold on, let's do it again." Hits it. Never misses it again. Whips through the first two, plays the third, one very unpopular with previous drummers for its speed and chaos. Before learning each song, upon listening to a recording: "Oh guys, I don't think I can do this. I'm not (previous drummer). This shit's too much." Puts down the drumsticks. Gamely picks them up to at least try. Nails it.
Middle of September. We've got half the set down. This is starting to feel like a bad reality show. We've got just over a month to get a set down and play it in front of a potentially large audience. We will destroy.
It's June. The show's in October. We are to open for a band from out of town and a continent or two away. I think it's their first US tour. We're minus a drummer, but we have several leads. I'm the new guitarist, and I've spent the last two months learning the set plus some songs for the new album (the ones that have been written - about half).
Drummers are gold. You find a drummer, you hold on. I recommend taking beloved family members or pets hostage.
Candidate one is young. Full of bad ideas. And a guitarist at heart. Great grasp of music, learns fast, hits the drums a little harder than our gray tabby would. Has all the swing of Louis Armstrong - Louis Armstrong now, not when he was alive. Yes, you need swing to play primitive black/death with lyrics mostly involving the murder/rape of our lord and savior Jesus H. Christ and the destruction of His followers.
He teaches me a new game - Blame the Guitarist. If you can't get the drums right, the guitarist must be fucking up. Closely related to Blame the Whiteboy, but less fun. Candidate one goes on the backburner. Hopefully something else will come up.
Now it's July 1st.
Candidate two is a friend of a friend. Just moved to town. Been playing 12 years. Gets stuck on the second riff of the first song. See, the first cycle through the riff has an extra beat - it's five total. Subsequent cycles are four beats. You have to either feel the riff or have minor technical skills. Candidate two discovers a fondness for the Blame the Guitarist game. Candidate two goes over his beer limit. That'd be two mild beers, the limit. By the middle of his third beer, he's ranting: "do your fans like that?" (the five beats) "Why would you do that?" He wants to jam on some Metallica or Maiden. The bassist refuses to play anything but this squeaky horn thing that you squeeze. Bassist's response to jamming: "Err-ee! Err-ee!", shaking his head. Candidate two passes out on the floor.
We're coming up on August pretty quickly.
Candidate three is a friend of a friend and a cool guy. Another guitarist at heart. He's got his own band that he digs. He likes us, and wants to help. We practice twice together. He's got an obvious love of Lombardo (who doesn't?), but that second riff catches him up every time. Second practice, we three exit to a nearby bar to discuss privately - should we try to go on with this guy? We don't want to hurt his feelings. He shows up at the bar (everybody shows up there, eventually), tells us not to worry about hurting his feelings - he doesn't know if he can cut it. It's a bittersweet end.
Middle of August, and now we're talking about cancelling the show. Ancient ex-bandmates are called to duty, but they have no duty with that prefix in front of their titles. Should we cancel? What else can we do?
I know another guitarist. He can drum. But I don't think he wants to. I call. He's stoked. It's been a dry summer, playing-wise. Tried to break out of the metal box, started missing it's confines. He'll do his best.
End of August, first practice. That second riff - tries it, fucks up. "Hold on, let's do it again." Hits it. Never misses it again. Whips through the first two, plays the third, one very unpopular with previous drummers for its speed and chaos. Before learning each song, upon listening to a recording: "Oh guys, I don't think I can do this. I'm not (previous drummer). This shit's too much." Puts down the drumsticks. Gamely picks them up to at least try. Nails it.
Middle of September. We've got half the set down. This is starting to feel like a bad reality show. We've got just over a month to get a set down and play it in front of a potentially large audience. We will destroy.
