One Year Ago Today in Burbank

"We didn't call him Eno, we called him Brian" said Jerden. I had just asked THE Dave Jerden what it was like working with Brian Eno. Dave was rough around the edges, quick phrased, and he had a harsh voice, so he didn't waste it on words. "They ripped off an African soul musician on that album, completely ripped him off", Dave balked about Talking Heads' fourth studio album "Remain In Light". Apparently Dave was wary to admit how groundbreaking David Byrne and Brian Eno's creation really was. I could have disagreed, but obviously Dave knew way more about it than I did. I actually didn't like the album the first time I heard it, but it grew on me, and before I knew it, it was my favorite Talking Heads album. There I was sitting in Burbank and right before my eyes was the man who engineered and mixed that very album. He was tall, grey haired, and the whole time I was there he was wearing his black leather jacket and often sitting out under the gazebo with a cigarette. I remember him saying that "things are different now", which I suppose he couldn't be more right. I can't really give the guy any justice in a blog post, the man has worked with more influential artists than I have fingers and toes. Either way, here was a man that had a direct influence on my musical teens and twenties. At this point I couldn't even imagine the headache of mixing "Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On)", I'd only wish to have the caffeine and the patience to deal with that much content.

Lori and I saw little of Dave while we were in Burbank, but when he was there he made quick decisions and was gone in a flash. Our final day in the studio was made up of mostly vocals and that was the day Dave sat down and worked with Bryan to comp out several of my vocal tracks. It's a brave new world when someone like Dave is talking out the lyrics you wrote and saying which parts of which take should go in the final mix. I remember many times during our few days in California looking at Lori with that "Holy Crappuccino, I can't believe this is happening" look.

When it came to the nitty gritty Bryan Carlstrom was the workhorse. Bryan was either sitting at the studio's gorgeous giant analog console, tapping on his iPhone, clicking at Pro Tools, adjusting a mic here and there, or puffing at a cigar out under the gazebo(actually Bryan's right-hand man John Nuss was the one making mic adjustments and fixing cord issues most of the time). Bryan seemed the more personable man between him and Dave. Bryan waxed philosophical about his days at Capitol Records, when reverb was made with speakers in empty concrete bunkers in a basement on Hollywood & Vine. These had in turn become the smoking dens for many an artist once digital reverb came along. I also remember a mention of the maintenance elevator that went to a secret floor where the booze was kept. The illustrious red light on the top of the Capitol Records building that flashed ever so steadily in the California midnights was actually Morse code for something or other (a certain vulgar phrase about a particular studio manager comes to mind).

Bryan, who was from the Midwest, just happened to be the pioneer of Pro Tools. He singlehandedly had a stress attack, an epiphany, and then re-routed a few wires to make the first hit album using Pro Tools, turning it into an industry standard. He has worked with just about any hit '90s act you can think of, and, to me, seemed full of steam to keep working for another ten decades, if it was at all possible.

The one wish I have now, a full year later, is that I could have heard what Lori and I created in the midst of such genius. Unfortunately, Konami created a sub-par game, and had an even more sub-par development department. The game had already flopped by the time we hit the tarmac at LAX. Our song never saw the light of day. I still feel, however, that this was my greatest musical achievement, I came, I saw, I conquered. Here's to the future!

For more information on this event please see the following posts:

Day 1 - Chasing The Sun

Day 2 - Into The Studio

Day 3 - The Work (The Fun)

Chasing The Sun: Day 1

Now that we're back from L.A. and sinking back into our normal routine, I've had a chance to reflect. I figure I better write it down before it all slips away.

We scrambled up to Chicago and to avoid confusion we opted for the $30/a day parking at O’hare, which made things easier for the trek to and from our terminal. It’s been a long while since we’d flown last, and a lot has changed. I don’t remember much from the last time I had a flight, but I was younger, which probably means I thought the seats on the plane were bigger (I've gained a little weight over the years). Upon arriving at the check-in we were surrounded by an array of screens, but very few people. It appears everything has moved towards that of a self checkout lane at the supermarket. This is the first time I’ve had any contact with these blasted machines and I felt a bit like a grandparent attempting to program a VCR, and if I hit the wrong button they’d cancel my flight and I’d never get to fly again because of some kind of esoteric blacklisting of idiots. Thankfully, someone intervened, probably because of the perplexed look on our faces as we tried to somehow instantly comprehend this new unknown airport jargon on the big blue touch screen in front of us.

Once this ordeal was over we were shuffled over to the security checkpoint, 75 guards, two gates, only a few rules posted and a sudden cold feeling on the heels of my feet as I took off my shoes and placed them in a Tupperware container. This was one rule I understood, it was an illustration of some loafers in a box printed on a big white sign next to the entrance, simple enough. The guards spoke very little if only to bark commands at you if you were doing something wrong. They certainly weren’t going to answer any questions on procedures BEFORE you screwed it all up. I wasn’t expecting to be spoon-fed the rules on how to get safely through the security checkpoint without anyone yelling at, or belittling me, but a free pamphlet before getting to the first phase would have made everyone's experience just a little easier.



The flight to Minneapolis was fairly short and somewhat pleasant. I was terribly nervous waiting to takeoff, I’m not sure how Lori was, but, my poor heart was trying to beat its way out of my ribcage between the third and fourth rib. I was wired on adrenaline for most of this flight, but the pilot made a very smooth landing and by the time we had a few drinks at the Chili’s next to our terminal I was actually looking forward to the rush of taking off on the next plane.






The flight from Minneapolis to LAX was longer, but Lori and I had a whole row to ourselves so we could spread out. It was still early evening for us, so we were wide awake and obviously excited about our destination. We drank a couple of Bloody Marys and tried to zone out on our zunes. However, the guy sitting behind us apparently had never flown from Minneapolis to LAX before (which, neither had I) because he was dumbfounded to hear that we’d be on the plane for three or four hours. He didn’t believe me. So he tried to make small talk with the middle aged woman next to him, she answered most of his questions with a somber one word answer, and then continued to read her magazine. He’d stretch and curse, yawn and curse; he was overall a pain in the ass. He ordered a Heineken and between every sip he’d let out a long “Ahhhhhhh, shit. Mmm, that’s the shit.” It sounded like he was making sweet love to his beverage. Now that I think of it, somewhere in that gargantuan noggin of his, he probably was making love to his Heineken. At any rate, I was pleased he wasn’t sitting next to us, or between us, because even behind us was way too close for comfort. That aside, soon we were on our descent and we could see the bright glowing lights of southern California. I put on my headphones, listened to some Soul Coughing “Screenwriter’s Blues” and zoned out on the magnificent light show. On the jet way we could smell the ocean, and we could feel a hint of the warm California air. We made it.



After a few freak outs, wide smiles, and our heart’s skipping a beat waiting for our guitars at the baggage claim, we jumped into our hostess' car and we were off to our hotel in Burbank. We couldn’t see much on the way to the hotel because it was about midnight, but we grabbed some quick blurry snapshots of the lonely lighted freeway signs and burger joints on the way.



I collapsed into bed at the hotel, and Lori jumped into the shower (because of time restraints in the morning). Short, but deep, relaxing sleep. We woke up on a king size bed that felt like a cloud of cotton candy. It was morning, and now the work has to begin.

Going to Los Angeles

Lori and I (The Aposematics) have won a trip to Los Angeles (among other things). We're leaving for Chicago tomorrow April 14th, 2009 to catch a plane, and will be back in Peoria Saturday April 18th, 2009.

This trip includes recording with Dave Jerden and Bryan Carlstrom at their studio in Burbank, plus a Rolling Stone photo shoot. The photo shoot (I'm told) will take place in the studio and possibly another TBD location.

The firm in charge of this will be keeping us busy during the day, but will take us out on the town for dinner every night.

We're nervous, but excited for the opportunity. We've never been to the west coast. It's been quite the chore for us to pack and get everything lined up on our end.

We will be updating our Twitter accounts, and Facebook pages hopefully with pictures and details if anyone is interested on updates. (Go to http://www.theaposematics.com/links.htm for the urls to our various networking pages)

The long, treacherous path of learning to play and record music on my own has finally paid off. This was completely unexpected, if this is the only compensation I ever get for doing something I love, it will have been well worth it.

Sayonara!

John