... Worth the Wait
Time doesn't flow, it stutters...
I had an interesting conversation this morning with a friend of mine from back in the Dynamix days. It was largely an observation of the non-fluid characteristics of time; once in awhile you have those days that blissfully last and last, then all of a sudden its three weeks later. That kind of non-fluid behavior. Yesterday was my youngest sons 14th birthday...that was a seriously non-fluid span of time. If you have kids you know what I mean.
All of this conspired to remind me I hadn't posted any music on my page here in the domain of The Procrastinators. A random comment about Mothers Day brought me full circle to 4 of my favorite musical time capsules. The 2 Haunted Garage songs, and the 2 Concrete Blonde numbers.
Looking back at my time in LA, Concrete Blonde's "Over Your Shoulder" and "Still in Hollywood" pretty much capture the attitude, sound, and feel of both the music scene, and life in general as I lived it in sunny Santa Monica. It sounded, felt, smelled, and even tasted just like that. Lots of opportunity, lots happening, the pace of life was fast and interesting; all the while tinged with the feeling that I was probably just the new guy getting on the rollercoaster; sort of a "the ride would be over soon and the popcorn and hot dogs are starting to make you wonder if you are going to get back in line when its over" feeling. I got back in line over and over and over...at least for awhile.
Adam Carolla and I were working for a custom closet company for about $800 a month, he started dating a stripper who later (surprise) ditched him; I met my then future wife. Adam had just started working with The Groundlings and I was in hot pursuit of my rock and roll dream in Chuck Maidens band "The Story So Far". We can see how those choices played out. Kudos to Adam.
During all of this, I worked on a couple of different film projects. One in particular ties directly into time, music and, Mothers Day: that would be the recording sessions with Haunted Garage.
A guy named David Miller, who I knew from Durango, was living in LA and directing a film he wrote with a standup comedian: Vic Dunlop. The film was horrible, but, the experience was great. David needed some suitably exotic band for a sequence in the film, as well as some music. At this time we were using Brian Ellis's office at Paramount just upstairs from the "Cheers" set; yes, that long ago. They had a band in mind that they wanted me to tape at an after hours party in east L.A where they would be playing.
I recruited the bands then live-in roadie Mark Parker, new to Los Angeles via Durango, to help carry gear. Its a little after 3am and we're driving through some industrial part of town looking for the party; Mark is beginning to get a little nervous. We recognize it by the two large, threatening looking guys standing outside the requisite dimly lit hallway. No one spoke as we walked up; both shifted almost imperceptibly to block our access. I offered up Brians business card and they parted like Moses at the Red Sea. They not only welcomed us, but one of them became our designated blocker. "Its the Paramount guys". Yes, we had an office on the Paramount lot so technically, but hell, who was I to correct them.
As we start down the hallway I can see that Mark is nearing fight or flight mode, he's that uncomfortable with the black light lit hallway and the televisions jammed into holes in the drywall showing obscure German (I think) hardcore. The loud pulsing techno unsuccessfully trying to drown out the laughter coming from the large room ahead of us. We shortly found out why. At the ends of the door converted into bartop stood two 40 gallon garbage cans each about 1/2 full of acid punch. We respectfully declined a glass.
They informed us they had held off on starting the show waiting for us to get there; they were ready to go. They hustled us into a smaller room off to the side of the "bar" where we setup our gear. They told us we had to use the light in the room, we couldn't use our lights. We cooperatively set the camera up and pointed in what they said was the direction the drums where in. Here we are, a room filled to bursting with the acid and vodka fueled underground party hounds, Mark standing so close I could have taken his pulse just by listening, and they shut off all the lights. We can hear the band come into the room followed by the unmistakable sound of amplifiers switching off standby and being turned up very loud.
Lights, screaming, and a physical shockwave of sound hit us as a guy, looking suspiciously like Mengele from "Surf Nazi's must Die" stepped up to the microphone and launched into "Brain In A Jar". I was sold.
We survived the night, recommended them for the part, and got the assignment to record them. Mark was never the same. Turns out Dukey Flyswatter was really Michael Sonye; he was Mengele.
Being a low budget film, I had to record at a small studio in the valley, at night. We could only get in after 10pm. We ended up recording 4 songs during 2 weeks of 10pm to 6am shifts; completing the final mix on Mothers Day. They decided to name it that. It was a success. Not the film of course, but the demo. The Mothers Day demo was named the top unsigned act demo by UCLA college radio (a big deal at the time) and from there Haunted Garage landed a nice recording contract; the signing party was held at Club Lingerie in Hollywood. The last time I saw Haunted Garage.
The songs "Brain in a Jar" and "Two Headed Transplant" that are posted here are from my copy of the final mix we did way back when. The are a little rough sounding as back then we didn't do digital, those are from cassette tape. Same with the Concrete Blonde tunes.
That was a terrific long 2 weeks back in the late 80's, what seems like only a short time later I'm married for 18 years, with 2 sons, a mortgage, and a smile on my face.
See you in a minute.
All of this conspired to remind me I hadn't posted any music on my page here in the domain of The Procrastinators. A random comment about Mothers Day brought me full circle to 4 of my favorite musical time capsules. The 2 Haunted Garage songs, and the 2 Concrete Blonde numbers.
Looking back at my time in LA, Concrete Blonde's "Over Your Shoulder" and "Still in Hollywood" pretty much capture the attitude, sound, and feel of both the music scene, and life in general as I lived it in sunny Santa Monica. It sounded, felt, smelled, and even tasted just like that. Lots of opportunity, lots happening, the pace of life was fast and interesting; all the while tinged with the feeling that I was probably just the new guy getting on the rollercoaster; sort of a "the ride would be over soon and the popcorn and hot dogs are starting to make you wonder if you are going to get back in line when its over" feeling. I got back in line over and over and over...at least for awhile.
Adam Carolla and I were working for a custom closet company for about $800 a month, he started dating a stripper who later (surprise) ditched him; I met my then future wife. Adam had just started working with The Groundlings and I was in hot pursuit of my rock and roll dream in Chuck Maidens band "The Story So Far". We can see how those choices played out. Kudos to Adam.
During all of this, I worked on a couple of different film projects. One in particular ties directly into time, music and, Mothers Day: that would be the recording sessions with Haunted Garage.
A guy named David Miller, who I knew from Durango, was living in LA and directing a film he wrote with a standup comedian: Vic Dunlop. The film was horrible, but, the experience was great. David needed some suitably exotic band for a sequence in the film, as well as some music. At this time we were using Brian Ellis's office at Paramount just upstairs from the "Cheers" set; yes, that long ago. They had a band in mind that they wanted me to tape at an after hours party in east L.A where they would be playing.
I recruited the bands then live-in roadie Mark Parker, new to Los Angeles via Durango, to help carry gear. Its a little after 3am and we're driving through some industrial part of town looking for the party; Mark is beginning to get a little nervous. We recognize it by the two large, threatening looking guys standing outside the requisite dimly lit hallway. No one spoke as we walked up; both shifted almost imperceptibly to block our access. I offered up Brians business card and they parted like Moses at the Red Sea. They not only welcomed us, but one of them became our designated blocker. "Its the Paramount guys". Yes, we had an office on the Paramount lot so technically, but hell, who was I to correct them.
As we start down the hallway I can see that Mark is nearing fight or flight mode, he's that uncomfortable with the black light lit hallway and the televisions jammed into holes in the drywall showing obscure German (I think) hardcore. The loud pulsing techno unsuccessfully trying to drown out the laughter coming from the large room ahead of us. We shortly found out why. At the ends of the door converted into bartop stood two 40 gallon garbage cans each about 1/2 full of acid punch. We respectfully declined a glass.
They informed us they had held off on starting the show waiting for us to get there; they were ready to go. They hustled us into a smaller room off to the side of the "bar" where we setup our gear. They told us we had to use the light in the room, we couldn't use our lights. We cooperatively set the camera up and pointed in what they said was the direction the drums where in. Here we are, a room filled to bursting with the acid and vodka fueled underground party hounds, Mark standing so close I could have taken his pulse just by listening, and they shut off all the lights. We can hear the band come into the room followed by the unmistakable sound of amplifiers switching off standby and being turned up very loud.
Lights, screaming, and a physical shockwave of sound hit us as a guy, looking suspiciously like Mengele from "Surf Nazi's must Die" stepped up to the microphone and launched into "Brain In A Jar". I was sold.
We survived the night, recommended them for the part, and got the assignment to record them. Mark was never the same. Turns out Dukey Flyswatter was really Michael Sonye; he was Mengele.
Being a low budget film, I had to record at a small studio in the valley, at night. We could only get in after 10pm. We ended up recording 4 songs during 2 weeks of 10pm to 6am shifts; completing the final mix on Mothers Day. They decided to name it that. It was a success. Not the film of course, but the demo. The Mothers Day demo was named the top unsigned act demo by UCLA college radio (a big deal at the time) and from there Haunted Garage landed a nice recording contract; the signing party was held at Club Lingerie in Hollywood. The last time I saw Haunted Garage.
The songs "Brain in a Jar" and "Two Headed Transplant" that are posted here are from my copy of the final mix we did way back when. The are a little rough sounding as back then we didn't do digital, those are from cassette tape. Same with the Concrete Blonde tunes.
That was a terrific long 2 weeks back in the late 80's, what seems like only a short time later I'm married for 18 years, with 2 sons, a mortgage, and a smile on my face.
See you in a minute.
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