US election result day meme refers to 9/11 and 11/9 as dates vying for America’s worst.

Maybe the reversal is symbolically important after all, as a moment in which voters turned against the last 15 years of global war on terror, Project for the New American Century machinations, reckless profiteering succeeded by festering resentment over the financial iniquity of so-called austerity… a numerological inversion denoting a calling forth of a new era and mode of being, signalling a genuine inauguration of an epoch of hope.

Or… Washington Post journo on the radio citing the end of the world as we know it, at least the current paradigm (prompting thoughts of comments attributed to Gandhi regarding Western civilisation…)

Maybe we’re locked into a historical repetition cycle after all, a Reichstag fire away from rapid descent into Atwood-Orwellian dystopia. 

Maybe… maybe it’ll just be more of the same shite.

Hey ho rock n roll, deliver me from nowhere.

Short break there while our singer had a holiday. 

Back to it this evening, in the practice studio, which is working well for us soundwise. They have a good drum kit (the marque evades me, but I have the drummer’s assurances), a chunky vocal rig. I am playing through a Laney Linebacker head and Marshall cabinet, which combi offers a good deal of trebly reverberous hoof, with a lovely plummy sound in the middle also. Delighted when the singer called it plummy tonight, as I had been thinking that precise word. Syncety sync!

 We have no bassist, but this is prompting some positive rearrangements. We probably do need to get “something else” in: there are definite gaps in the sound, but with the singer getting room to manoeuvre our melodies have improved, and she’s started to pick out bass and other fill patterns on the piano in the room.

Tonight we rattled out the bones of a new song, a bit country-ish, some sort of First Aid Kit, Dr Hook and Dolly Parton jam, with a good deal of that trebly reverb of which I spake. 

Speaking of, this side of awesome came to my attention in the last week:

Great, though, isn’t it? So if we could siphon off just a soupçon of this soulful slink… Only, everything we’re doing has to clock in under three minutes, or we cut something out. That’s probably our most enjoyable bit at rehearsals right now. 

Treating the songs mean, keepin’ ’em keen.

Had a rummage in a charity shop vinyl section at the weekend.  Naught but Mrs Mills at the piano, Golden Parade of Pops 1976, Val Doonican and Orchestral Sounds of Tijuana. There was me ready to splash a small amount of cash too. But no. The crates have all been dug.

Band news was here, Monday nights following rehearsals. 

Hiatus there recently as well. A week or so ago we lost our bass player. I’m tempted to say in a bizarre gardening accident, as it’s funnier than the sadly necessary mundanity of work commitments. The perils of being your own boss! 

So we’ll be searching for a replacement, when we’ve got past the ‘now we shall have to teach the songs to a new person’/momentum interruption trough.

The writing of tonight’s post is being soundtracked by Rádio Etiópia, through Pocket Casts.

Obrigado chaps.

Super productive evening as we turned a chord noodle from the notebook into a choice new number.

There were also some actual tears of laughter over counting misfires:
“One… One… One… SAKE.”

And

“So, that’s six, two, four, two, three?”
“No, the second two is part of the three. The two is just the first bit of the three, twice.”
“Right…”

It was hot – damned hot – in the rehearsal spot.

Previous Rock Notes have mentioned that we jam in a drama studio space at a local school. A big room with a whiteboard in it and posters with useful vocab like Barn Doors and Apron. It also has windows that barely let any air in, making for humid conditions. So, the strings were once again twongling when tangling was expected, atmospheric factors exacerbated by a moribund battery in the tuner pedal we were sharing.

Partly prompted by the wonky tuning, and a week off for half term, the session brought a curious discordance of emotions: plateauing ennui, with the issue of the singer in ongoing work scheduling torment preventing us from hearing the full picture, if you see what I’m saying, and excitement, principally that we have advanced now to playing all the tunes without recourse to chord charts inked up on the board.

For some reason I am able to locate a dry wipe pen with considerably greater ease at practice than when I’m in class at the day job, but that’s another matter. Props, Stage Manager.

Like the changeable May weather here, I’m blowing hot and cold. Last week it was all I could do to process information overload. This week I have embraced a new system, taking more moments in browsing to listen, to view or to read things right through.

This evening, here’s a triplet of music:

Honus Honus – Heavy Jesus

Homeboy Sandman – Nonbelievers

And, breaking out of the Hs…
Factory Floor – Dial Me In