Break

Taking a break from Patch for a week and a half. Making homemade Christmas presents in its stead.

Until then, Merry Christmas!

Typosgraphy: Day 1

Revisiting an old friend. Basically going to put some icing on a year and a half old cake.

LCD (Lips Condemned and Dumb)

The easiest material from which to draw inspiration is that which is closest to you.

Common visits of mind numbing blinders
Pulled over my eyes and ears
I always sensed his ultimate betrayal
Providing him the opportunity to correct his faults
You try to change fate
Yet you’re always left to chance
Predetermined by the metaphysical laws of learning
Karmath

What one can and cannot say in teaching
Advice goes unhinged
Like stray invisible light waves
We fight to answer the questions for others who never bother to ask
Or are afraid to
Even when it means life or death

The laws of Karmath go unbroken

It’s not betrayal if you knew it was coming all along
It was predetermined logic
Betrayal would have been a broken Karmathian law
Impossible to obtain
The lowest common denomination of life – laws of living.

What goes up must come down
No one is created equal, despite our claims for the opposite
A guiding hand is only felt by those who ask for one

"LCD" Clip (ASCAP)

When Cold Was Warmth

The closest thing to a Peter Kean Christmas song . . . about my '08 mantras.

Che

Another static statement -- ignorance is the key player in this one:

http://reason.com/blog/show/130506.html

LCD: Done

Just finished laying down all the tracks (not even a minute ago). The last little bit dealt with me searching around the house for an adequate box to fill up with magnet balls for one tiny sign-off piece of percussion to close the track. Minor detail for the listener, an absolute NEED for the obsessive recorder.

Tomorrow I'll touch-up a few things here and there. Then I'll put her off to the side as I finish up the next three songs. After that: the dreaded Sonar conversion, and I'll high-tail it over to Schuyler.

I'll put a snippet up this weekend.

Good and Bad News

Bad News: LCD . . . couple more days. Personal health issues kept me away from the editing tools. Made for a bit of a depression.

Good News: Came up with a pre-official logo for the band. A quasi-advertisement scheme for the first demo disc.

LCD: Almost . . . There . . .

This weekend will it be finished? Sunday night? Fingers crossed I have the stamina to pull it off . . .

LCD: Lost Count

Can't remember what the session count is. But, nontheless, progress is being made. I'm in the second movement of the song. Some revisions are most definitely going to be made . . . but for now I'm enjoying the different pace of the new section. I'm finally becoming settled with certain effects presets. Presets I'd use in different songs. So recording might be quicker in the coming weeks.

Looking at a mid-January rough mix done date right now. Didn't meet my New Years resolution. But se la vi.

LCD: Day 10

Refrain is done. Tomorrow the solo.

Amidst Gray Skies

The leaves fell off the trees again.

And where was I?

Introverting. Lending perspectives to extroverts.

I hope it comes across.

LCD: Day 8

Slow start this week. I grow tired of recording really fast. But it's amazing what a day away from Acid does for clarity the following day.

Day 7 I finished Verse 3, today I'm plugging away on the refrain. So far the drums have been laid. Next up: vocals, some guitar recording and guitar looping, and maybe some tambourine added in for good measure.

The original plan had "LCD" finished on Sunday. I don't think that will happen.

Week 1 Recap

Recap of Week 1 of the ".01" session:

"LCD". I have the first two verses, a little solo, and half of verse 3 recorded and effected (I keep wanting to say "affected", is that right in this context?). I had hoped to be past the refrain and main solo by today, but I was sidetracked by copying files over to different music editing programs Wednesday through Friday. I figured (after the fact) that it was a waste of time, so I'll just be working with ACID from now on, transferring files over to Sonar after everything is set in stone. That will take two days' worth of work, but it beats having to share the recording load between two programs. That was stressful.

I think week 2 will be a little easier.

LCD: Day 6

Short little recording jaunt planned for tonight. Vocals.

BOTH programs (Acid and Sonar) are coming up short. Usually I would've given up at this point. Yet I'm still feeling positive.

It's a sign!

Or it's the caffeine . . . my "happy drug".

LCD: Day 5

Already in the red, meaning I'm behind, or desperately trying to balance the edge.

I've had to convert to another program. ACID to Sonar, using both as I record. It's frustrating and doesn't make the process that much fun. I'm still trying to work out the bugs. Will I meet my "finish" date? It's doubtful. But still possible. At least I'm working on it.

LCD: Day 2

Met my goal for the day, but my computer can't take the amount of effects I'm currently implementing -- well, Acid Pro can't. I don't know why I use that program. Old habits. Will have to figure out a way to switch the tracks successfully over to Sonar, Schuyler's pride and joy.

Still in the black.

LCD: Day 1

The session has started. It should be nonstop until New Years.

Revisions

Preliminary revisions -- outlines, lyrics, tabs and sound designs. Whatever happens before actual recording is the focus for this weekend. There will be more of a spotlight on a Karmath song, "LCD", as I've found that the recording process for this one has been a little more easy going and fun. Mainly this is due to a guitar track based on acoustic guitars turned into a distorted blend. This makes it so that I don't have to go through more hassles with electric tones and amateur nuances. Acoustic tinkering makes for a fuller sound, a more organic oomph. The end result sounds vastly different than the raw recording, but I haven't found too many instances where the "raw" sound is the end sound in Patch, unless "Raw" is more of a descriptive idea pertaining to the sound design. Then, "LCD" is raw in every sense of the metaphorical implications -- at least that's what I wanted for the sound. Here the term on my notes was "Western Sludge".

Thinking on it, I have a big feeling I won't be able to create different soundscapes for each of the songs I'm planning to record. They will have a certain sound (the "recorded in a small bedroom yet trying not to sound like it" sound), and for all intents and purposes, these demos will sound different than the recordings I make for the actual releases (as they should). This is a Patch session, and it will span two and a half months worth of recording. It will be the first glimpse into future projects and storylines. Surface skimming. I haven't made my mind up on what to record first once I get the band in place, but when that time comes, each record will have its own distinct aura and feel. At least I hope. I cherish that quality in artists' catalogues -- you can totally differentiate albums and EP's from one another, and not in a chronological way (80's recording sounds vs. 90's and 2000's, for example). It's all in sound design and visual frameworks. For instance, I SOURCE/HUE is a black/white dichotomy, SOUND. OF. STATIC. is a yellowish urban tint, CELLULOID CLOUD is an orangish urban tint, KARMATH is geometric and basic in design, but blueish in tone.

Too many ideas . . . it's time to start working on the surface palette.

Goal Sprinting

And thus begins the race to meet my 2008 New Years Resolution: Have a Patch demo disc in hand. It need only be in its most primitive stage, non-mastered and pre-"producer mixdown", and sans artwork. Just five songs in their early stages, ready for Schuyler to work his magic on. Five songs spanning the four projects I've written in 2008. It should amount to about a half hour in length.

Two months left. One song is done, four more to go.

And Yet Another . . .

The first song I've written in . . . well, since college, maybe even high school . . . that hasn't dealt with a larger story or project. It's based off of two past relationships, go figure.

Mobius?

Another one fermented today . . . just wish my cold would go away so I could record vocals for all of these sketches.

For Those Not Lost Yet

The best material is always the stuff closest to you. It's like I've been given a gift for my birthday last week from the Gods of creativity. I used to dread plugging in the recording equipment, opting to try to write out detailed plotlines that I knew I wouldn't be able to follow. Bukowski said something along the lines of "If you don't feel inspiration: DON'T WRITE!! It will usually turn out terrible and shallow." It's coming, now. Something different. More simple.

I have a feeling it will be a lot sooner for people to hear my musings than previously planned.

Still Cookin'

For the day he runs away . . .

Breaking Protocol

Another muse called today.

Writ Connections

More writing. Harder today for some reason.

Misleading Placental Praising

A successful day. Amazing what cold-pressed coffee can do for lyrical storytelling . . .

The Day I Lost Control

"What happened in the war?
These crimson pools on the floor,
I feel a draft from the door --
The man who came from the Drawers."
--IN HOPES TO MEND

Day 7 -- Details

Back at it. "Mend"ing the details, now . . .

Mended Structure

It took a week, but I think I have a coherent, workable outline. I'd like to thank the makers of Red Bull for making this possible.

Back and Forth

Too many voices, too many songs infiltrate my head. While trying to compose two tracks sharing the same elements, they keep shouting at each other from different lobes. Which is very appropriate, being that that's exactly what the songs are about. I had a different plan for this weekend, but when inspiration calls, it's best to answer.

Day and Night Coincide

Finally, the day job experiences coincide with research in Patch: how to effectively portray a massive temper tantrum of cosmic proportions.







And finally: this one for the last line . . . if I heard one of my kids say this I'd probably die laughing.

A Better Hurdle

Follow the muse . . . this one's been with me longer anyway . . .

Abortion

Fuck.

3

Slowly but surely the pieces will make themselves mine.

2 - Dramaturgical Butcherings

QUESTION OF THE DAY: What if one does not have the means to cleanse themselves of their petro spirit? Will that spirit ultimately tip what was once not in its favor to something completely the opposite, therefore never allowing for harmony of the beings, but instead creating a total takeover for the petro spirit?

Day One

Potential Energy

Day Zero:

Before the final try. Many a walk, many a reflection, and -----[space]-----. Not as much as I would've preferred, but enough to get the gears running.

Day Zero . . . I've lived in Day Zero for 13 years. And this next sip of Killian's Irish Red is for those years . . . it's time to say farewell to thee. Adieu m' lazy.

Birthing Scoffs

Whenever "big" events are broadcast live I always scoff. I can't help it. Whether it's the Democratic National Convention (I seriously can't get over the mood reversal Hillary has had regarding Obama. During the debates she looked like she wanted to kill him, now . . . it's the game, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.), the Grammys, or the Olympics, something always seems off or "put on".

The following is one of the reasons I find myself scoffing and shaking my head whenever these things are on a screen in front of me, and why others find me sometimes bothersome to be around at those moments:

"Sydney Phonytics"

Circadian Cramps, Tracho Triumphs

I've been in need of "Do-it-Yourself" National Scenic Byway tours recently, AKA I've needed a break to get a little bit of summer in me as it quickly dwindles away. One more day of writing "Circadia", then two to three weeks of recording. Two days left for "Trachomanic" mixing (maybe one).

Static Statements

A friend of mine recently posted an article on Facebook detailing the intricate frailties and dangers posed by "hipsters". I've been traversing the web as of late out of inspiration, looking for "static statements" -- statements that used to have valor and a true message, but which have since turned into basic fashion trends, meaningless eye candy, forgotten words.

I found a lot of hooplah about the keffiyeh, a traditional head scarf worn by Arab men. Read the basic of the basics: the wikipedia article, just to get an idea of Western appropriation and the ignorant loss of meaning. It's nobody's fault, really . . . but nobody seems to truly fix these debacles, either.

Keffiyeh Wikified

Requiem (Part 1)

Cleaning house. The first part of a small Citizens Banned movie I'm making in my Patch breaks. Something to help us CB folk remember the days of old . . .

The Cycle of Deaf Ears

In the midst of my uprising, I tend to veer off to the center. I take my binoculars and observe. Let my fingers traverse the keys in order to enter the abodes for less than humble responses. I see surface talk. Nothing of substance. What is the meaning? It goes over their heads.

It stuck for a little while. I preached Typosgraphy in the underground until I absolutely knew that it was beat into people's brains enough to stick by itself. Lo and behold, someone took notice. And distorted the messages.

Turning substance into surface, I merely became a cover and heading . . . no body. With my new soap box position, could I somehow maneuver thinking waves in my favor? In order to do that, I'd have to work with the system. Jump into it full on. I hear that the operation is excruciating. I'll have to prepare a safe corner. Untouchable even to myself . . .

Three More . . .

Two Months

I feel as though I've been engaging in a constant brainstorm for almost a year. Writing three albums, recording the same number simultaneously. I've decided on what to focus on.

The first demo disc should be done recording wise in two months. It won't be available until . . . well . . . you'll understand.

"Era 1"

In the past couple of years, two months always stand out to me as the months I "feel alive" in. August and September. I am in the midst of "feeling alive" right now. It might be the way the wind feels amidst the extreme humidity, causing me to sweat and relax at the same time (I always think of a nice cold glass of beer covered in condensation), or the way the sun shines its golden hue in late summer/early fall. It's peaceful.

The fly has manifested itself on paper. Week long sprints of poetry and melody writing interspersed with software downloading -- especially VST plug-ins. My Outlook Calendar is packed with an itinerary with a 5% flexibility capacity. "Era 1" it's called.

Era 1. The hardest "era" is always the first one. It's hard to come from nothing and try to build up a huge entity for both selfish pride and altruistic empathy completely from scratch.

A two-sided conversation . . . doppelganger dandies turned into insectalian exploitation.

Vertical Walls

I just received a phone call. After all these years, my eyes couldn't adjust to the hundreds of lights, even if I've been around them constantly all my life.

He said it was time.

And so I'm flexing my wings . . .

Intertwined and Bound

New developments. My dad has always said to me: "You always say 'Oh man, I should do this here' and 'This would be cool to add to this'". I overwrite, over-clutter, put too much into each project.

Well, I'm doing it again. The demo disc has now become 2 demo discs . . .

Trachomanic

It was fate that brought us together . . .

The common man needs company. Needs empathy. An understanding companion. At first one becomes content with their lonely surroundings. All the friends they need are the four walls surrounding them, and if they're lucky they might have the luxury of a limited pictorial view of the nearby landscape given forth by a small window. Fuck them for the lack of a view, but they have been spared the lowest rung of admittance due to the limited decency to allow me a guest.

I had my doubts. All creatures pose a threat. All are hideous at first sight. Take the time to understand, to query, and the opinions change. In this case, it was for the better.

They still hold the right to allow him in or out as they please (I wonder how that makes him feel). We might be in mid-sentence.

He leaves sugar cubes behind, stashed away in his pockets. Sustenence until the next arrival . . .

But it becomes painful as time goes on. The need for communication in the midst of my ongoing "upbringing" is almost dire and of utmost importance. I only have a few hours left, and all I ask is for a small bit of shared breathing space.

Why do I get the feeling that there's something dangerous in our palaver -- -- --



TRACHOMANIC

*Written and performed by Peter Kean ASCAP*

And when I want him to stay
He's nowhere to be found I know he's looking at me
Seems like ages ago
A fool who was afraid of making angels in snow

I feel for the first time
Shed the old skin for the last time
If he laughs at me
I'll die in disbelief, disbelief, now answer me!

Dowse the fire and pray that
He can't hear what you say
You've strayed off course and you're dealing
Hands with the devil in your disguise

I've got wings in my teeth
There's a tickle in my throat and I see static beneath
My skin is falling away
I option for the side that makes it feel okay

I see for the first time
Eyes are like pearls in the dark they still shine
I reach out to him
Embraces me with his infinite limbs, infinite, now run with him!

Dowse the fire and pray that
He can't hear what you say
You've strayed off course and you're dealing
Hands with the devil in your disguise

Praise in foreign tongues
Cut my blood to run
Burn my flesh in fire
Any wish, want, and desire

Side Project for Gramps

Here's a little project I'm completing for a present I'm giving to my grandpa on his 90th birthday this weekend . . .

"Bye Bye Blackbird"

Brothers in Arms

More people are in place. Patch has obtained a new member and collaborator . . .

http://schuylertsuda.com/

Peephole

Where I am:

So far I've recorded up to the first chorus of Track 2. I've had three versions of drums here, and tonight I hope to finalize the last version in the drum design (interplay between electronic and acoustic drums). Track 2 done by June 1st?

Plugging In

Tomorrow, the notepads and word documents turn into sound waves.

I Source

Before the lights.

How does it feel when you are aware of yourself melting into martyrdom?

24 Hours to Live

He builds.

"They build him."

He jumps.

"They make him jump."

24 Hours to Live.

He is resurrected.

"Against your will."

(He builds)

The Imminent Death of Typosgraphy

-->PULSE<--
No, the liminality of timespace continuum has no effect, no effect, what what whatsoever on anything any being any means on what I deem reality. Make the cells into chips, melt them into plastic bits, it doesn't have any effect on me.

-->PULSE<--
Distort hypothalamy calamity and take every movement you can muster out of me. My right arm is yours, so go ahead and add it to your fucking wanking fantasy of objectifying materiality.

-->PULSE<--
Bleed bleed bleed circadia into me and revolve the system around me bleed bleed bleed and revolve it around me i am your fucking regime i am your fucking regime.

5 Minute Nap -- A Week --

--Thursday March 13, 2008
Today proved to be extremely eye opening. It was the warmest day of the year so far. 48 degrees. I felt the urge to actually be productive, rather than the wintry lethargic blahs I've been accustomed to for the past five months. Lawsuits are looming at my day job, the sun is out until 7:30 PM. I'm more positive and excited, nervous and ansy than usual. I feel like I've matured into something bigger at my day job, a place of respect. Of confidence, of others trusting me. I also know more behind the scenes aspects, gossip. This causes uneasiness for me, but I welcome it. I feed off of that kind of energy.

I took a small nap on my break. A five minute nap felt like an eternity of sleep. I woke up wondering if I had actually transcended into some other realm of existence during that sleep, bringing back a piece of new flesh, new soul, to feed on, to live off of.

The house is empty. All but two (including myself in the two) have migrated to the southern reaches of the US for spring break. I feel that with the semi-seclusion and quiet, Sound. Of. Static. will be heavily worked on and realized. A new Citizens Banned video is on the rise, and other musical projects are going to fleshed out and debuted.

This will be an ongoing post of what I hope will be a seminal week . . .


--Friday March 14, 2008
After a full day's work, I sat down to write some more of The Architect and as a reward edit the Summer 2007 Montage for Citizens Banned. I had called a friend for a wine bar date, she told me she'd get back to me. She called back as I was starting up my word processor, asking if I could come see her perform in a cabaret styled puppet show.

Friday turned out to be a free night. I got some good wine out of the deal. Nothing productive otherwise.


--Saturday March 15, 2008
Trying not to succumb to a post-pizza food coma, I made myself take Architect lyrics and catscratchings to a nearby coffeeshop. I had to sit and wait for the Mocha to take effect before I got the ball rolling. I started to realize The Architect is turning into an EP unto itself. There are lots of little sections, each dealing with either a character or a new level of the procedure the character is undergoing. I started implementing the Electrode Box subsection in there, taking parts from my "Elect(RODE)" demo (it has to go somewhere, SOS wouldn't be complete without some aspects of that recording). I finished the drink, bought Monster energy drinks across the street afterward, went home.

Taking advantage of the 1/2 empty house, I tried utilizing my roommate's desks for some peace and quiet (I live on the first floor of the house, so it's a place of high traffic and distraction -- I partially blame this for the lag in my Patch stride as of recently), and I realized I should instead utilize our rehearsal space/band room for writing. That's what it's there for. So, I made a small writing desk for myself, moving a desk lamp. Closed the door, bingo. Came out with a page of lyrics.

I then started working on the CB Summer 2007 movie. Things are working. It's currently 7 seconds long, but a lot of clips are going into this puppy, so ten seconds is an afternoon's length of work.

Had a night out at the corner bar with Dave (former CB drummer). Ranted, raved, and passed out . . .


--Sunday March 16, 2008
More realizations in The Architect. It's starting to have a structure I'm content with. Although I dawdled today, due to Dave and I turning off the space heater in the band room. It was too cold to be in there for too long. (excuses, excuses)

But alas, The Architect is finding its form.

CB Video -- coming along . . . the first intro is done sans some audio peaking issues.


--Monday March 17, 2008
Nothing except talks with Adri about how the ashes of Citizens Banned can be filtered into future projects . . . I'm also getting ideas about changing Circadia into more of a PJ Harvey-ish track. More guitar driven.


--Tuesday March 18, 2008
A large Architect spluge. After drinking two consecutive energy drinks, ideas exploded out of me, including a actual mindfuck of music . . . the Electrode Box . . . ten minutes have been written. I feel like I'm only a third of the way through this song.


--Wednesday March 19, 2008
So, the week is over. Nothing too too seminal, but I've found a quasi-stride in rewrites and focus, judging by my "spluge" in The Architect last night. The gang came back from their travels, and were going throughout the house, making it extremely difficult to focus. I wrote a nice four line stanza, then figured I'd rehearse with Kristen for her Katinka performance on Friday night. We're doing a cover of "Heartbreak Hotel" by Elvis and "Kommienzuspadt" by Tom Waits with me on drums. A cabaret tap dance revue. Dress rehearsal tomorrow.

Found the stride . . . performance Friday. And there's a week with Kean.

FALSE STARTS

It's coming along. Track 1's extreme basal backbone has been mapped out (it's not too difficult in structure -- it shall prove almost impossible in studio, though, I predict major headaches to coincide with this one). Track 2 is complete. Just two lyrical changes. Track 3 is still in the ether. Ideally, I want a continuous FF dynamic catharsis of at least 3:30 minutes in length . . . how it will present itself is the question. Track 4 is 1/2 done. Track 5 -- basic idea is mapped out. Track 6's basic idea is also mapped out, but this one will prove to be a beast as well. I predict it will come out of a caffeine high, improvised with a tumultuous cloud of ideas. Track 7 miraculously came to me last night as I was going to bed, and it helped with the structure for Track 1 (I like circular movements -- figured this project should have one).

It's coming. 30 hours a week devoted to music. Being in the mindset. In honor of the awesome spluge of creativity this afternoon -- I owe it to myself to take a break.