I had a dream that I produced "hits" behind a giant mixing board. I sat in one of those plush swivel chairs draped in hot pink velvet. Empty paper coffee cups littered the floor. Only I had access to this recording studio. In between playing back the track, a silence filled the studio, so quiet you could hear a furry cockroach scurrying across the shiny maple floors. Mist floated through the room, clouding my mixing decisions along with my surroundings.
I hit a giant orange play button near the bottom of the mixing console. Dia's voice screamed at me through the enormous speakers level with my head. Her vocal track didn't sound sweet and warm like it normally does. Instead a harsh vocal melody growled over the instruments. I sprang out of my chair like a jack n' the box in a horror movie.
This is it! This is what I have been looking for!
The song had a steady raw drum beat that sounded like it walked right out of an obscure Blues Bar in Austin. A heavy and clear bass line anchored the tune beautifully. I simply needed to turn up the raggedy guitar riff panned to the right in order to transform this track into the beast I knew it could be. I steadied my shaking index finger on the dial, fighting the rush of adrenaline. I slid the dial up. The guitars popped into place, and my heart filled with joy only a choir of angels are capable of feeling.
Suddenly a piercing and pulsating violin track interrupted my beautiful rock symphony, sounding horrifically similar to Jim Carrey's "most annoying sound in the world" in Dumb and Dumber.
And I woke up, realizing that the violins in my dream were actually the sound of the DoubleTree Hotel's alarm clock.
The recording session of my dreams (literally) ended abruptly. Time to start another day.
Dia hops in the shower. I hop in the shower after she is done. Makeup. Hair. Shoes. Dress. Guitar. Out the door.
We performed for a radio station today in Spokane. Dia knows the names of them. I can never remember. I am HORRIBLE at "schmoozing" people, which is the name of the game at the radio stations. Too bad an artist simply can't enter the premises of the radio station, fall to their knees, and beg, "Please Radio Station _________ if you play my song I'll let you keep my pet parrot and I'll even give you all of my marvel comic action figurines I've been collecting since I was 10! Please, pretty please!" Now that is a negotiation method I can do!
|O.K. so I might have geeked out at the radio station and snapped a photo with these two cardboard cutout babes!|
Instead of being the "suits" I had imagined, the Radio Station peeps were incredibly charming and ended up wooing us with their delectable pastries and steaming fresh coffee. Extremely knowledgeable, kind, and encouraging, I couldn't help but wish it were practical for me to invite them to my family's next Thanksgiving dinner.
Tonight we played a show at the Key Arena in Seattle. Nick and I explored Pike's Place Market before the show. I bought some fresh plums and ruby red grapefruit. I've been having a strange craving for fruit lately...
|Fresh Seattle rain and produce make me happy!|
The monorail we rode to Pikes can carry 3 1/2 baby elephants. Did you know?!