"Would You Like Cheese Stix With That?"

Here's a thing I didn't know before: starting a band is a lot like other things, especially those other things that don't go like you thought they would.   If you're me, the phenomenon of surprise at the difference between what you thought was going to happen and what actually happens is a frequent one.  It happens when the children resume consciousness each morning and every evening when I return home from work.  It also happens when I order pizza.  I'm sure you can relate.

You start out thinking it should be a relatively straight-forward deal.  You know what you want and understand, more or less, how the process works.  But then you call the pizza place and they hit you with their specials:  "Would you like two medium pizzas with two toppings tonight for $12.99?"  No, thank you.  I'll just have a large pizza, half pepperoni, half black olives.  "Any ice-cold Coca Cola products to go with that?" No, thank you.  "How about our famous chicken wings?"  No, thank you.  "O.k.  Would you like any cheese stix with your order tonight?"  And there it is.  The Cheese Stix.  It causes that momentary hesitation every time, in which I have to ask myself, "would I like any cheese stix with my order tonight?"  And sometimes it turns out the answer is yes, I would like some cheese stix and while you're at it, we'll take one of those dessert things you've got as well.  And, wait, can you go back?  What were the other choices again?

Now imagine standing in front of a mirror, naked (not me, you, in front of a mirror, naked) with a dude on a computer sitting next to you.  This is the cheese stix of starting a band, only, well, it gets a bit complicated because you didn't order the cheese stix in this scenario, it just somehow got added to your order by one of your band mates when you weren't paying attention.  So, while you thought you were just ordering the pepperoni pizza of rock 'n' roll, it turns out you still got taken by the bastards in marketing for a whole lot more.

Let me sort this out a bit.  First, the nakedness.  Being in a band is very much like being naked.  You have to try things out and, inevitably, as has been previously documented, fuck them up right in front of other people.  This is a regular part of being in a band -- fucking-up.  Well, at least in our band.  In fact, there is usually way more fucking-up than really anything else, except for drinking beer and avoiding other responsibilities.  (That part I do remember ordering.)  And, if you're me, there are always new and exciting ways to get it wrong.  You can remember the lyrics you were forgetting last time, and forget a new set that you've never forgotten before.  Or, you can forget the lyrics you, yourself wrote or you can create timing issues where there have never, ever been any before.  You can cough, be out of tune, make a face that causes someone else to make a mistake . . .  The possibilities are endless.

Then, after a while, just when you think you might be getting used to being naked, along come The Cheese Stix -- the part you don't remember ordering, but your band mate (let's call him "Jim") claims was definitely ordered and in any event, here they are so they might as well not go to waste.  In case my metaphor isn't working for you (though I can't imagine how that would be the case) I'm talking about the process of recording and producing a song, which as everyone knows, is the Cheese Stix of midlife rock 'n' roll efforts.

Perhaps if I come at it differently.  In mathematical terms, it looks like this:

Cheese Stix = sneakily or unexpectedly added item

and

Recording and producing a song = sneakily or unexpectedly added item

also

Recording and producing a song = being naked, in front of a mirror with a dude on a computer sitting next to you (who, of course, is not naked)

therefore,

Cheese Stix =  being naked, in front of a mirror with a dude on a computer sitting next to you (who, of course, is not naked)

Except for the fact that you have your clothes on and there is no mirror, that is exactly what it is like to record and produce a song.  I now know this from personal experience, though I never expected that I would.

It works like this: you are informed that songs will be recorded and you are provided with a time slot at The Sonic Goat.  If you're Andy, this means you show-up at a time when I'm not there and record different guitar tracks.  If you're me, this means you show-up at a time when Andy isn't there, but after he has been there, and record vocal tracks over the guitar tracks.  This involves many unpleasant parts.  First, there is the wearing of headphones so that the guitar tracks can be heard.  This was my "We Are The World" moment when, for the life of me, all I could think about was headphone-wearing 80s pop-stars taking turns at the mic (and check the action between Kenny Rogers and Paul Simon.  I think Kenny didn't see Paul down there):



Then, there is the singing while wearing headphones and listening to the guitar tracks.  The best thing about this part is that you are the only one doing anything live, meaning that you are the only one who can possibly fuck-up and when you do you will have the spotlight all to yourself. 

After that, you get to listen to your vocal track -- all, by, itself.  Yep.  No other sounds.  Just the unvarnished tones of your voice.  To enhance the joy of this experience, you get to listen to your voice over and over again after each take.   Finally, if you are really lucky, you will get to listen to two vocal tracks simultaneously to determine the precise points of difference between them so that you can pick the best one ("best" being an extremely relative term, of course.)

Have I mentioned that I don't really like cheese stix all that much and that the naked-in-front-of-a-mirror analogy was meant to convey the unpleasantness of having to confront un-edited reality?  Just checking.

Still, once the cheese stix have been ordered and delivered, there is really nothing else to do with them but eat them.  So, we did.  When we were done, we ended-up with the following, more-or-less final version of "Sun," the haunting original tune you will no doubt remember from the previous post:



So, now we know two things: (1) judgment day has arrived, and (2) be careful when ordering pizza.