a great track from one of my fav bands that happen to live here, well, two of them do, but Im not one to split hairs about much, anyways, I was lucky enough to roadie for them when they went up to san antonio to play a show, then it was off to san marcos, got a ticket for an open container, while Kye quickly turned off the Straight Out of Compton record as the highway patrol person told me what the law was, I said Yes, sir. No, sir. Kye was hungover the next day even though he only had one beer, or so he claimed, but it was not my place to render a verdict. It was austin bound to go record the record, I had to drive Kyes vehicle because he didnt know where he was or who he was, he spent the morning in the bathroom of Dustys joint with the shower running like a thief, steam rising and settling, Kye trying to get the toxins out of his system. Here, man, have a taco. Kye, with eyes blurry and half closed, Okay... The studio was in the garage in the back of this older fellas house. He was really cool and had all this old rotary phones that he refurbished and sold for a profit. Nick saying Dan, you know our songs, right? We might need you to play guitar on the record if Kye cant wake up. I lied and agreed, I figured it wouldnt be that hard then I realized that I could barely play the songs I wrote much less somebody elses, fake it till you dont make it. Luckily, Kye came out of his coma and stumbled into the studio, the first thing he said was Im gonna ask Ambra to marry me...uh...what song is it? The band laid down the backing tracks and asked me if I wanted to do backing vocals, I declined because the couch was comfortable but I regret not participating, the way I looked at it at the time was This is your project. Im just a guy hauling amps around and tuning guitars. Well, I didnt tune any guitars but I remember things and events the way I want to. I watched as Kye become more involved, he was standing there slumped over slouching with the worst posture Ive ever encountered, eyes half open, hand clutching chords, it almost seemed like he wanted to pick up the habit of smoking just to calm the waters, I fell asleep on the comfortable couch with an outdated copy of rolling stone magazine resting in my lap like a well behaved dog, my adopted dyke sister sent me a message, my phone made that noise, and it read I miss you... I watched and listened as the band went through what they were paying for, that bit of tape, reel thing stuff. I heard take after take and was never bored. I watched as they debated how to do the vocals on certain songs and I loved it. I was honored to be a part of the process even though I didnt participate in any capacity. I was there to take care of Kye, move boxes around and say That sounds good. Can I get a copy of the record? Will you sign it, Ill use a fake name... After a few hours, they were done with the recording and Kye was somewhat sober, and he grabbed me by the shoulder and said Amber is driving up here to see me. Should I tell her what I want? I said Nah, man, wait a little while. Kye fumbled and did a really bad version of Rockaway Beach by the Ramones on his good guitar, the one with the strings that bend well, looked at me and said Why are we friends?
Posted on: Tue, 02 Dec 2014 15:39:37 +0000
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