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2012-01-06T14:29:00.001-06:00

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THE TRIFECTIC ESSAYS (PART 3): Acknowledgments

2011-09-10T17:54:00.005-05:00

***Due to the non-fictional nature of the subject matter for "Acknowledgments", you might think "Is Peter talking about me?" if you were somehow involved with Patch in the past. Rest assured it is about people I no longer associate with. If you are reading this, it is not about you.***

There is nothing I fear more than knowing all of my efforts and self-sacrifices made for an endeavor were all for naught. Time and time again, as I said in "Preclusion" (the last essay), Patch had been in a constant trial and error, try, try again anomaly. I've come to the realization that most bands go through experiences like this. Having people come and go, losing people to intoxication and addiction, failure, short sightedness, laziness, the want of instant gratification, etc. Basically, children.

"Preclusion" is part 1 to a two part meta-story about my frustrations with trying to become a live band. The second part, "Acknowledgments", is the angriest, most visceral and non-fictitious song I've written to date. It takes direct quotes and points fingers at real people.

Now, this might not be a polite thing to do. Embarking on meta-songwriting (I always think of that song by Carly Simon sung about Warren Beaty "You're So Vain") is a tricky business. But I think that there should be a happy medium.

Just as there is a countless amount of broken hearted sad bastard music out there based off of real relationship woes turned into semi-fiction, it should only be allowed that there be songs about band woes.

I basically think that if people have the gall to quit or wrong me after we've agreed to embark on a shared experience where I trust in their ability to show up on time, learn material, it's only fair that I can write a little song about my anger at being fucked over time and time again without naming names. One wrong by one person? Eh, not appropriate. Two wrongs by two people? Still not appropriate. How's about fifteen plus people? The anger was immense, and I felt I deserved a little public ventilation.

And if you call me out on that, fuck you, to put it bluntly. You gave an agreement, you gave me your word. And you failed. To say I can't vent about it makes your abuse of your word ever more pathetic. So take your leave of absence like a man (or a woman, in one case). It's the only time I'll do it, I promise.

Just to thank all of the people who got us to where we set out to be.

The real honest-to-goodness people to thank would be Schuyler Tsuda, who mixed and mastered our first EP, "Schematics", and curated our debut and CD release shows. Greg Strom, who stuck with the band since the very beginning. Paul St. Turner, who also stuck it out in the end. Carl Nyflot for his photography. Taylor Park for his art inspiration and the first Patch logo. These are the people who helped get us to the beginning of Era 1.

But the tongue-in-cheek Acknowledgments go to not all the fifteen of the come-and-go's, but a select few. Some people legitimately could not play in Patch due to busy lives and we mutually agreed that they should or could leave Patch. Some, however, just left unannounced. Disappeared. Some bridges were burnt. And I became so fed up.

This goes to those who went AWOL.

"Thanks, and fuck you, too."

----------------------------------------------------------

A. TRI
2. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Looking at the stars, looking at the czars
I can make it, I can make it if I only hold on
You taught me how to sing, how to act, how to dance
How to fuck, fuck, fuck and drink my head away
"Tonight, tonight
Is the beginning of the rest of your life!
So grab the bull by the horns and get
Made, Paid, Laid
And by the way
We believe in you, we believe in you, we believe in you, we believe in you."

So they buy up a piece of un-Real Estate
In a sector called "Hope" through a conjugate
We join hands and we smile and we celebrate
I can't shake off the feeling that they'll desecrate
Commit robbery in the worst degree
Friends turn into enemies
And thrown out down the drain
An abortion of another dream

I know what you'd like
To smoke, drink, fuck every night
The small print of the deal
Says "Devotion isn't real".

So take the money and run

Fueled by mistakes and the sight of Cloud 9
I brought them in, one by one, with a promise divine
Of Art, of Truth, the components that are missing
In this fickle falling world where only power chords shine
Well, one left for money
And one in shame
And countless others who held fast to the Simplicity Game
YOU: I did nothing but help you out
YOU: You gave me nothing but a seed to sprout--
--the Curse of Altruism helps nobody in the end
Except the ones with no remorse to take advantage of a friend
But they believe in me, they believe in me . . .

Well, belief doesn't play a guitar for me
Nor does it hit skins or tickle ivory
You fell between the cracks built with the void of all you lack
And thrown out down the drain
An abortion of another dream

I know what you'd like
To smoke, drink, fuck every night
The small print of the deal
Says "Devotion isn't real".

So take the money and run

I hope you're fairing well on the other side

And will you step up to me?
And will you step up to me?
And will you step up to me?
I know you won't

-----------------------------------------------------------------

This song was written on a Saturday night, two nights after Trifectic was conceived. It was based off of my want for raw, emotional simplicity. Something Greg could play on the drums (he had never played drums before) while I sang upfront. Paul would supply the guitars, with Greg switching over to bass on the more poignant musical parts. Same with me on the drums. It was inspired by a song from Liars called "Plaster Casts of Everything" and Nirvana's "Breed".

I had written a musical outline immediately after "Preclusion" to see how the journey between the two songs would pan out. I wanted "Acknowledgments" to be the high point of the first third of the Trifectic set.

A storm was raging outside. Perhaps the most violent storm of 2010. As I was about to start on the lyrics and riff writing on Word, I got a call from my roommate who said "Are the tornado sirens going off at the house?"

I said "Tornado?!" Immediately after I said this, sure enough, the tornado sirens started blaring. I checked the weather and apparently a funnel cloud was headed directly toward the house. Yet, a minute later, the sirens turned off. Reports were on and off about the funnel cloud, so I thought "Whatever" and continued writing.

Writing with a raging storm outside of your window, thunder blasting from the heavens, tornado sirens off in the distance, is extremely conducive to writing angry, bitter lyrics. The crux of this song was written in the space of one hour with the storm, only paused by the arrival of my girlfriend, Kristy, who had been driving through the storm from Wisconsin to stay the night, meaning that any efforts to keep writing the song would have been the rudest thing to do in light of her harsh travels. The song was finished the following Sunday afternoon.

The lyrics are both direct quotes from the aforementioned fifteen and direct references to how some of them left. The notion of "Smoke, Drink, Fuck" was a quote from a close friend (one of the people who actually helped legitimately in getting Patch off the ground, so this song isn't directed toward him) about the nature of what we've heard local budding rockers say is the ultimate goal. To be at a level where the goal is to play your music as a means to get to the rest of your life where all you'll do is smoke cigarettes (or whatever), drink the night away, and fuck a new girl of your choosing. Some of our contacts in the local scene wanted to do just these things. It's not about the art. It's about getting Made, Paid, and Laid.

In all of my experience as a local musician, the only time where getting laid was ever in the cards was once while playing a private show at my house with my old band, Citizens Banned. I didn't see it coming. A couple of girls whom we didn't know showed up in our rehearsal space. After the show, they sought me out and found me in my room. One voluptuously said, "Hey." I got up from my chair and went to the door, thinking they knew someone at the party and were going to introduce themselves. It became clear to them however, that I was not all I was cracked up to be offstage.

"Oh, you looked taller during the show." And they left the party immediately.

I frowned. "What?" It hit me. "Ohhhhhhhh . . ."

Musically, "Acknowledgments" is not as musically storytelling as "Preclusion", where buildups and premature endings symbolize the try, try again nature of Patch live. This time around, the driving beat is just angry. I spout a spoken word rant on a soap box up front. The guitars are dissonant and ripe with bitter rage.

The main idea I had coming into the song was the nature of dual drums. I wanted Greg and I to play together during the solo with Paul providing dissonant noise on the guitar. Symbolically, this is supposed to address the fact that the Acknowledged not only affected me and all of my dreams, but the time and effort by Greg and Paul as well. They took time out of their busy lives and certain people made all of that null and void when they figured "Whelp, I don't think I'll show up anymore."

I believe in getting Made and Paid for the effort and time. This is the ultimate goal. I'd like to make a living off of my art. Yet I make art not for the purpose to get paid, if you can understand. If money comes my way due to my art, amazing! I make the art for the sole purpose of making art. I'd like to have a fanbase of people that demand my art so that my job can be solely making art.

And yet it seems that this mentality is not what is held by most in the locally famous scene. It's a world of sharks. Poor art is rewarded because of its accessibility, and its wide draw. Poor artists get rewarded for poor art. They are not artists. They are models wearing clothes and playing riffs that have no new ideas. There is no statement except to get a big house, plenty of women, yaddah yaddah yaddah. These are not new sentiments.

Only in the aspect that these people infiltrated my band, tainting its honest message, is it new. Because I experienced it time and time again on a personal level.

There is a difference between a Poor Artist and a Starving Artist. And the Poor's are taking the sustenance that the Starving need and laughing all the way to the bank.

VIDEO:
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS @ 1419 -- December 17, 2010

THE TRIFECTIC ESSAYS (PART 2): Preclusion

2011-08-20T13:34:00.006-05:00

The door slammed shut.

"Hello?!" a voice called from upstairs. "Peter?! What are you doing tonight?"

From inside my room, a small alcove within a small house shared by two others at the time (and at one point, seven), a place smack dab in the middle of where the most activity occurred, hardly any help to keep the constant flux of creativity I wanted to pour out into the world going, I remained silent. I threw off all of my belongings, cleared a space on my desk for my notebook, looked at the one line:

"All these lines mocking the marks of my life . . ."

"What's next? What's next?" I thought. "What do I want the song to do . . . a revolving DIY machine between three people . . . an intro to our new show . . . we could just do chants . . . nah, at least four chants of this first line then an instrumental build . . ."

Knock, knock. "Peter, what are you up to?"

Irritation, despite my thankfulness that people still took the care to ask me to have a social life with them, must have stained my face and eyes. I remember distinctly looking up and saying "Writing. I have to." And looking back down.

"Oh. Well, we might go out tonight," my roommate said, despite my accidental staredown.

"Mmm-hmm . . . probably not tonight," I said, not looking up from my notebook.

A couple of minutes later, by the grace of God, the house was empty. This never happened. At least, not when I wanted to be creative. To write. To record. It was always empty when I wanted to be social, when I figured the work could wait. Nothing ever seemed to line up correctly.

But this one time, it did.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Coffee downed, shirt off from the heat, basking in gym shorts, acoustic guitar laying on my lap, sore fingertips from playing said guitar all night long, tiny tape recorder full of notes, recorded files on the computer for finished ideas, I heard the door open, the roommates were home again. Yet irritation didn't flood my mood this time around. Gratefulness came instead. "Break. Take a minute, Pete," I told myself.

I looked at my notes. One song written. Six others brainstormed. A name for the era: Trifectic. It had only been a couple of hours, and yet I had done the most work I had ever done in one day, let alone one sitting.

I made a couple more notes for the finished guitar riff ideas before calling it a night.

I walked into the kitchen to throw away my coffee cup. Still in writing mode, I remarked to my roommate, "It's a time of Preclusion. Again and again and again."

"What?" she said.

"I lost another drummer."

"What?"

"Preclusion. Everything ends before it's supposed to have begun."

"What are you talking about?"

I stopped. I looked at her with a smile. "You'll see?"

She stood there as I went back to my room, no doubt giving me a dubious look that said "You should have come out tonight, you're losing it".

I looked at my notes again. I listened to my riffs.

"Yeah, we're going to be okay," I thought.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A. TRI
1. PRECLUSION

All these lines mocking the marks of my life . . .

I tried to lay down the words but they've kept it all in . . .

I take one step forward and two steps back . . .

I finally made a mark to mock all those lines.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I have a creative flow, most of the time I take the easiest ideas and complicate the living crap out of them. In this case, it was a rising chant. A man, hunched over his drum set, having just said goodbye to the 7th or 8th or whatever drummer that he had hoped to be the one that held the dream together. A chant to get him through the pain that lies within the fine print of art.

A rising chant.

But throw in an instrumental build, then a changeover from drums to mic, no guitar, have another build with different sections in it, changeover again, do another build slightly similar to the first one, but with new sections, and then elongate the big section with a weird roll riff and a coda of slides, one more roll thing and then the main ending of noise and resolute finality. He made a song . . . he finally did it. And if he played that live at his first show, he'd smile to the crowd in a happy proclamation of "FUCK YOU, KARMA!!!"

An easy enough structure in three parts, the song is supposed to introduce the changing wheel of Trifectic. Peter would come up, beaten and weary, and chant four times about the failure of his band thus far. The other players then try to prove him wrong, as one by one they join in on a build as Peter plays the drums out of necessity. "No one else is going to play this damn thing, I guess I'll have to do it," is the feel. At the end of the build, the music swells to a choreographed loud point, everyone doing the same riff together. Finally, something's working! But it ends abruptly. Another Preclusion.

Then the wheel moves, allowing Peter to go up front, be where he's wanted to be all along, and try again. He repeats the lines "All these lines . . ." two more times, and stops, realizing that something is happening. He chants new lines: "I tried to lay down the words but they've kept it all in." The emotion grows higher and higher, a new drummer laying the foundation with a bass acting as the only stringed instrument, yet filling the space with distortion. The chant turns into sounds of repeated cries of sadness/anger, ending again to hint at another chance lost . . . another Preclusion . . .

Peter sings "I take one step forward and two steps back" while actually stepping back to the drumset, resolute that it will never work. The wheel rotates again. He starts a drum riff, Greg and Paul follow suit, never dropping a beat, a last build that seems the most choreographed. A band that will stick together. By the end of the third build, the sounds persist, feedback and a steady bassline continuing, as Peter realizes that it finally happened. "I finally made a mark to mock all these lines." Pointing a middle finger at the heavens, he finishes the song with a proper countoff ending. Finally, a conclusion.

Yet, the sound persists, as the meta-protagonist is about to address the group of individuals that have sparked the constant preclusions. As with any finished product, Acknowledgments are expected. And it's proper to give credit where credit is due . . .

VIDEO:
PRECLUSION @ 1419 -- December 17, 2010

THE TRIFECTIC ESSAYS (PART 1): A DIY Revolving Music Machine

2011-08-09T20:44:00.012-05:00

Try, try again.

How many times, though? July 2010, I was up to 15 on the count for members quitting/leaving the band. We were two weeks away from our live debut. The latest hopeful drummer had just walked out the door on my request. Despite the fact that we had ended things on somewhat mutual, friendly terms, I felt downright hopeless. However, I had had creative surges bursting through my brain as of late. New written material was on the horizon.

The dream to be a four-piece or five-piece was going to be put on hold. I loved the remaining three guys. I thought we made a great team. I thought we could make something with just the three of us and still make the end result as big and as raucous as possible.

Wrought from the emotion of the neverending cycle of band members, I placed a notebook on my snare drum, sitting on the throne of my kit, looking heavy and burdened. Looking at all the empty lines of my notebook page. Starting over. How many times have these lines promised a result, only to fall short before a result could be given? How many times have we prepared a show, only to never actually get on a stage? The marks I put down in lyrics keep getting mocked by new empty lines sparked by another failure.

“All these lines mocking the marks of my life.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, after rushing home, not announcing my presence to anyone in the household, closing and locking the door to my room, I put all of my ideas down on paper.

I wrote and recorded scats to seven different songs. Six made up on the spot, one that had been floating around for the past two years (Whisper a Scream). The initial ideas of all the songs were put down that first night. "Preclusion" had a written outline as well.

I had a three-piece band. But I wanted to sound and do things that a four or five piece could do. Plus, I didn't want to give up the frontman role. I wanted to be up at a microphone as much as possible.

The songs that were written all had stage directions before there was any written music. For instance "FIRST SONG: 1. Start up front, sing. 2. Go back to drums, have instrumental build. 3. Come back to front, Paul on drums. Build. 4. Back to another instrumental build on drums."

From this point, the songs were written one by one in succession. From "Preclusion" to "The Private Collective", so that a flow could stay intact throughout the journey of the show.

In the end, the structure looked like this:

A. TRI
1. Preclusion
2. Acknowledgments

B. FEC
3. Whisper a Scream
4. Silent Cache
5. An Act of 3

C. TIC
6. Here Again
7. The Private Collective

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In terms of the subtle stage design and feel of the show, I was relying heavily on all of the instances from the past five years where I pined to be onstage, mainly while watching friends perform or watching that fated "jealous" band where you think they suck yet they've sold out the bar and you're thinking "Holy shit, they'd LOVE my stuff!!!" The lights, the changing of instruments, were all supposed to hint at a variety/burlesque show. This came out of all the experiences of going to my friends' burlesque outings, supporting them, but secretly stewing inside, "Patch would be great here. Hell, I'd just have a drum and a voice up there, just get me onstage!"

From these tumultuous support dipped in jealousy outings, ideas sprang to life. "Whisper a Scream", a simple drum and voice work song, came about because I could perform it easily with either one or five people. "Here Again", a crooning ballad, was a nod to all of the burlesque singers I wanted to replace onstage. "Silent Cache" had the feel of an old time prohibition dive bar burlesque show.

The main unorthodox practice for the show was the sideways drumset. I wanted to interact with the audience, face them while I sang, show them Paul or Greg when they played. I didn't want anyone to be hidden behind instruments. No barriers. It also gave easy access to the change-up between the main setup and our drum line songs.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With these ideas, all brought into existence one night while in a fit of creativity and rage, I called Greg and Paul. "The project's changed, we're doing something called 'Trifectic'." Both were pretty accepting of the change from another, more prog-ish outing we were working on called "On Veins and Nothing" (now put on the shelf for a future endeavor). I said, "We'll start practices in a week."

We were still on course to perform at a scheduled live debut at Room Zero, a practice space in Northeast Minneapolis. Moving the date back two weeks, I set about making a schedule where we would learn seven new songs that weren't even written yet to be performed in less than a month's time.

And thus began one of the most nerve wracking prep periods for any Patch project, one that made us seriously close to the brink of losing our minds and our friendships . . .

Written By/For Preschoolers

2011-04-13T16:25:00.004-05:00

About a month ago, in an attempt to end my preschool music class on a high note, and to go along with my original intention from the get-go of encouraging the children to create their own music, I set about making a CD full of music for children written by children. To an extent.

The project went like this: each preschool class chose a topic. One class chose "Friends and Family", another class "Nature", another "School", and the last chose "Speed/Fast".

Next, the children all drew pictures relating to their topic. I wrote down the statements made by each child while they described their picture. Then, I asked the classes what instrument they wanted to have accompany their lyrics. They chose drums or guitar (some chose flute -- I had to step in for that one, I don't know the flute). They chose tempos, loud/soft, etc.

I then compiled all of their lyrics together into cohesive songs, writing down connecting lyrics to have it all make sense. Below are the finished children songs that I recorded. Three out of the four songs will be performed live at the school's spring program in May.

1. This song was inspired by the topic "Friends and Family". Most of the kids talked about their houses being destroyed by dinosaurs, lasers, cannonballs. Some kids talked about their family standing in the window and waving hello. You know, what you'd expect. Other kids drew pictures about their family dying. I was at a loss taking down notes. Then one kid drew a picture saying it was "Happy endings and hope." Bingo! Had the song idea. A song about hope despite the hardship life throws at us.

"Happy Endings"

In this house
Me and my family live
And I feel warm
From the love my family gives

And Mommy and Daddy are coming home from work
Dad cleans up my toys in my messy room
And mom comes out to hug me as I play in the snow
And I hug her back

CHORUS:
Because somebody loves me
Somebody loves me
Somebody loves me
And everything's gonna be right

Smoke comes out
Of the chimney, someone's home
Grandma's visiting
She waves to me from the front window

A ladybug dances into my hand
My dog plays with her toy in the front yard
My family stands outside and waves hello
I have all these signs

CHORUS

We will die and we'll be sad
But we know the love we had
It stays with us forever
A dinosaur can break the walls
But it can't break our love
It stays with us forever and I'll be fine

An airplane flies
Over our house with a banner behind
It says “Love conquers all”
A house of love will always stand and never fall

Cuz no cannonball or laser can bring us down
No fire or tornado can send us away
This house will stay together not because of bricks
But by something else . . .

CHORUS x2

2. The second class had "Nature" as their topic. A pretty easy concept. The most recurring theme was a boat floating in a river or a sea. I wrote a song about needing to get out of the house, getting something out of life.

"A Little Boat"

Open up the door for me
Step outside, in nature I will be
Forever more

Winds that blow the leaves on trees
Sunny days for make believe
Mom will tend a campfire
Flowers bloom and grow higher

CHORUS:
I'm gonna take a boat and sail away
From the chance to be stuck inside all day
Leave me here
In peace

The sun comes up and melts the snow
Children in a river swim against the flow
A rocket blasts off nearby into space
Rabbits will come out and give chase

CHORUS

I'll row that boat across the sea
And I don't care if a storm finds me
I'll jump into a submarine
And float below in waters serene

An elephant stomps in the mud
A forest breathes life into buds
And bloom – hear strange music in the air
It's Mother Nature's voice saying “Please take care”

CHORUS

3. The third class was the most fun to write. "School" was their topic. But they didn't write about school. They wrote about playing on the playground and in our indoor climber. Naturally, I wrote an anthem for the playground. A quasi-rebellious march made by children with tongue-in-cheek anti-establishment flourishes.

"The Playground Anthem"

We've been working hard all day long
Staying still learning all we can
Ring the bell, “Put on your shoes cuz
We're going outside!” What a plan!

CHORUS:
It's time to march, march, march outside
It's time to run and go down the slide
If it's hot or cold, rain or shine
It's time to march, march, march outside!!

We can't wait to say “Tag you're it!”
Dig in the sand, be a soccer goalie
Fly in the sky as a superhero
Get chased by a scary zombie!

CHORUS

All our voices singing “March, March, March March March!” x4

Looking at the sky with a smile on our faces
Splashing in the puddles made from snow or rain
Jedi Knights protect the galaxy
With lightsabers in hand we can't complain

CHORUS

Outside is better than snack time, we'd take it any day
We play til we sleep, that's our code
And when our moms and dads come to pick us up
We won't want to go home
We won't want to go home
We won't want to go home!!!

4. The last class topic was "Speed/Fast". This was the most fun to record, since it's more in line with recordings I've done in the past. It's the most Patch sounding, basically. Plus, the kids wrote a lot about monsters and police. And they wanted their song to be "rock n rolley". Their wish was my command . . .

"Get Up to Speed"

Hey, look out!
We got a monster coming for us!
Hey, look out!
With the police on his tail!
Hey, look out!
And there are rockets flying everywhere!
Run away, run
Let's get outta here!!

CHORUS:
Everything's fast, nothing is slow
Big race cars and huge speed boats
Trains chasing planes chasing racing motorcycles
C'mon, get up to speed and run, run, run!

RUN! RUN! RUN!
RUN! RUN! RUN!

There's a scooter laying down on my driveway
I'm gonna get on and go, go, go real far
Cuz I hear the commotion coming down the street
And I'm about to be chased by a police car!
Tigers running everywhere from police jets
Monsters breaking buildings falling down, down, down
Sadie, Sam, and Sophie got stuck in the mud
All these crazy scribbles, let's get outta here!!

CHORUS

Hey Daddio, get up to speed! X4

CHORUS

RUN! RUN! RUN!
RUN! RUN! RUN!

ERA 2

2011-01-24T21:48:00.002-06:00

Current plans for the first half of 2011:

--New material based off of a storyline pertaining to all the ugly facets of love. It's not as cheesy as it sounds. The first of these songs will debut February 13th at our show at the Fine Line in Minneapolis.

--Schematics will be sent to radio outlets in the Midwest starting this week. Results pending on when you'll be able to hear us in rotation.

--We will be playing a very different set of songs for a concert bringing awareness to genocide and warfare at 1419 at the end of March. Details soon.

--I'll finally be able to put together patchband.com. A place of easy access to all things PATCH. I'm mostly excited for the chance to have a place on the site that delves into the background and meaning behind each of our "eras" or concepts. Essays.

--An expansion to the "Infection" (drum line) storyline will be hashed out.

The Fan Base Core

2011-01-04T17:27:00.007-06:00

This message is a way to garner a fan base. A way to communicate to the would-be supporters of PATCH and all of the brother/sister bands and artists that work with us. We have a lot to offer at the moment, but it's difficult to send messages out to individuals. Mainly, it's time consuming. I'd love to be able to do that, speaking directly to each of you, but it's not practical, unfortunately.

The next best thing is to have an email list. One where I can send out info on exclusive live shows, free giveaways, new products, essays on what everything means in the allegorical world of the lyrics and performances, news on future happenings. It's been my wish from the get-go that PATCH would be a very rewarding experience for fans. I'm a very appreciative person, and the rest of my bandmates are as well. We'd like to give you gifts as much as possible. We're always changing the sets of our live shows to keep you people thirsty for more. Eras of songs will come and go, new versions of past songs are already being cooked up. There's too much!!

That being said, if you would like to join the PATCH mailing list, you only have to put your email in the box below this message and fill out information that goes to ME through a service called Nimbit, which is a "direct-to-fan" internet platform that I've been using to get PATCH off the ground. No other third party will have that info.

Once you fill out the info, you'll be able to download the FREE Promo copy of Schematics.

If you don't wish to be on the list or would like us to stop hounding you, let me know.

This is the beginning . . .

Peter K

Chapter 1 . . .

2010-12-19T15:14:00.003-06:00

CD RELEASE SHOW SET (12/17/10) @ 1419:

1. Preclusion
2. Acknowledgments
3. L.C.D.
4. Whisper a Scream
5. Silent Cache
6. An Act of 3
7. Here Again
8. The Private Collective

I've done it.

I've reached every goal I've had at the beginning of the year.

1. Make PATCH go live
2. Finish and release Schematics

Just two, but they were huge undertakings.

December 17th, the two culminated in an event that harbored promise and reward. The reward mainly being relief. Promise in terms of "Well, I think this whole Patch thing might take off. People seem to like it."

It sparked the end of Trifectic preparation (we've learned everything I had written for the initial three piece line up back in July and August). And we played a track from Schematics, something I didn't really intend to do initially with the three piece lineup. Schematics is its own entity, a glimpse into future projects. L.C.D. is actually a song from an album I've written called Karmath. The rest of the songs are from three other projects I hope to complete: Sound. Of. Static., I Source, and Hue.

Playing the show, I felt where the energy was high and where attention spans waned with the audience. At this point, I'd like to keep energy high throughout a show. The next step is to take the three piece lineup and give it one more round of songs, an entirely new set from what we've been playing thus far. It will be fun to mix and match Trifectic with the next project, too.

The next project's storyline will deal with the concept of three again. It will focus on the notion of polygamy and lovers trying to come to terms with "others" in their relationship. It's a commentary on modern sexuality, suppressed sexual inhibitions within animals, and a way for me to deal with some of my anxiety when it comes to my love life. There's a 90's indie feel for one song, plus the storyline will incorporate electronics. The first time we'll be doing so in the live setup.

We'll also expand on the drum line alongside the new storyline. I'd like to have a show where we're able to use our bodies to express the songs. Being stuck behind a plethora of instruments in Trifectic, I feel somewhat suppressed in expression onstage. The drum line is about instrument performance, the other material will be about intense body expression. I want to have a realm where one style of performance can really shine and have the option to have the other style shine in another setting. This will also create more variety in our shows, something I've always wanted in PATCH. If we have four shows booked in a two week span, each show will be different, thus providing people the opportunity to keep coming back for more and not seeing the same show they saw two nights prior.

After these two projects (Drum Line Expansion and New Set), it'll be time to bring in the four piece version of PATCH with "On Veins and Nothing" and "Omiss" and "Karmath". The next recording is up in the air . . . I'm not sure what I want to do in that department quite yet. Perhaps the new set will shed some light on that matter.

Closing the Year

2010-11-20T15:51:00.003-06:00

After 2010 ends, I'm kind of stumped as to the next direction that we'll be taking in PATCH. Meaning I've got a lot of ideas (too many) but I haven't nailed one down for our undertaking in January.

What we've done so far is Trifectic. Approximately 55 minutes' worth of material. Seven songs:

1. Preclusion
2. Acknowledgments
3. Whisper a Scream
4. Silent Cache
5. An Act of 3
6. Here Again
7. The Private Collective

All of the material is based off of the hardship of realizing one's dream, and the people and situations that try to strip you of your goals. Preclusion and Acknowledgments have felt the most respectable to me. Whisper, Silent, Act of 3 have felt a little "put on". I love those songs, but they're very theatrical, using a form of music that's mainly for show and not the most personal. They're also telling about another character, not me. I'm not alluding to the fact that we're going to discard anything. I just know what my heart's pining for: more personal, PATCH-y sort of music, rather than just straight up blues and drum lines.

That being said, the next step in Trifectic will be a story relating to my current love life. On Veins and Nothing is a reflection on that aspect of my life, but I'd like to delve into a short story first before we get into that grand era. I've got intense ideas for intense music. I want to continue the angry energy we create with Preclusion and Acknowledgements and let it ride throughout the entire show. Louder, more in your face. More sexual. More uncomfortable for an audience.

December 1st will be the first time we'll be playing the original Trifectic set in its entirety to a live audience. December 17th, our Schematics CD release show, we will play a track from Schematics and Karmath: LCD. After that, expect both the personal songs to be fleshed out, and an expansion on the Whisper, Silent, Act of 3 storyline and performance.

For November 2nd, 2010

2010-11-01T19:12:00.003-05:00

My stance for this Election Day:

"I developed an alternative agenda
A way to keep the peace within a world of strangers
Their colors all blended contradiction
So I took just one and created an eviction

You all say you’re looking for a way out
You all stay in by looking for a way out
The loudest voice is a whisper, not a shout
And that’s why, that’s why you’ll never get out . . .

. . . On the hill of Red, White, and Blue
The trusted providers of molasses and glue
Flooded the West, we’re stuck and contained
There will be no change, it’s too thick to drain
Ay oh, it’s too thick to drain

Entered the hearing with a song and a praise
Grabbed the trophied weapon laid out for display
Took the podium and gave a speech
Said what they liked: “Teach, Preach, Impeach.
With this weapon it’s either loaded or free
Locked and hidden where you can find the key.
There’s no compromise, no in between, just war.
Nobody even has a voice on this floor.”
And with a gesture I was sure they’d understand
I put a bullet into 535 heads

Policies all tranquilized my potential
To be strong, be the boss, be essential
Get a 4.0 and you’ll be behind
Blood and Duty is politics defined

You don’t hold me anymore
You don’t hold me anymore
You don’t hold me anymore
You don’t hold me anymore"

------- Selection from PATCH: An Act of 3

Show 3

2010-11-01T19:04:00.002-05:00

Fine Line Music Cafe, Minneapolis, MN
10/26/10

1. Preclusion
2. Acknowledgments
3. Whisper a Scream
4. An Act of 3
5. Here Again
6. The Private Collective

Whisper a Scream and Private Collective were the strong ones here. Here Again was completely botched, however. Greg's bass was out of tune on one string, and I realized this as the song progressed. I started fearing "Shit, my own guitar's going to be completely whacked due to the bass!" Sure enough, it sounded like complete ass when I went to my first solo. I basically took the guitar off for the big solo, stopped the song, told everyone to point a middle finger at the guitar, kicked some pots/pans around, half-finished the song. We ended strong with Private Collective. People forgot all about the awkwardness just before (I even heard someone say on our video of the show "Well, THAT was awkward" after we stopped Here Again). Paul was nuts, jumping, swinging his guitar around, screaming and headbanging. I hope he continues to stay at that magnitude from now on. Greg was more calm. We'll just forget about the Here Again incident and tune before we go into it in the future. They can't all be zingers . . .

Show 2

2010-10-17T10:50:00.003-05:00

Show 2: Big V's Saloon, St. Paul
10/16/10

1. Preclusion
2. Acknowledgments
3. Here Again
4. The Private Collective

Another exhausting set. However, the audience hasn't been privy to that. They've said the shows have been uber intense and energetic throughout. Greg was on fire, moving around, head banging. Paul was a little more calm. Thank god for the adapter and daisy chain I purchased this past week, because now all our pedals are in working order!

I was worried about Here Again. It's really easy to screw up that song, since it's actually melodic and relies on written tabs, rather than things we threw together off of melodies I sang to Paul and Greg to figure out on their own. It turned out great. Best song of the night, actually, for me at least.

Magnetic Lines of Sight

2010-09-14T14:46:00.005-05:00

Having spent pretty much 3/4 of the year sans blog, I can say that I don't miss blogging every single day of the year. I get the random urge to type about this or that, but frankly I don't have the time to write that stuff down anymore. Nor would you care. How many people actually looked at the Karmath Blog each day? Maybe six at most? To those six, I commend you and thank you for your interest in my life, I'm interested in yours as well. But it makes you think . . .

Why do I want people to know what I'm thinking? Is it because I'm a polite narcissist, putting myself out there in the hopes that people care enough to look me up the way I want to be looked up? Yeah, actually. I don't crave attention. Well, scratch that, I do. Sometimes. Other times I do like to hide away in a cave and do my own thing. But usually, c'mon, you know me! I'm your fucking clown, I'll shit in my own mouth, I'll fondle a blowup doll and fuck its eye if it makes you happy. At least, I thought the spectacle of that sort of performance would have been interesting to see about five years ago. Now, that act has to have a reason behind it. I can't justify fondling a blowup doll ever, since it's hokey. But to fuck something in the eye . . . I have an idea behind that one . . . trust me, it's all good and gravy, and it's a doozie of an idea. It deals with PATCH, on the topic of fetishes and obsessive compulsion, to which I have both. BOOM, I just found reason to muse on sticking a phallic object into the empty eye socket of some personified object, living or dead.

Jesus . . .

I'm scared. Seriously. I've just made PATCH go live. I've now reached that strange frontier where I have to garner enough attention on me and my musings in order to justify keeping PATCH alive. My job is to be a somewhat impolite narcissist in order to make my dream fully realized. After this, you'll hopefully turn me into an object where I don't have to ask for you to look at me, you'll do it on your own. And then when I want enough, you won't let up, you'll still lust for more, and I'll sink into a spiral of self-loathing and irritation that I'll regret ever having wanted to start PATCH in the first place. Do I still want to do this?

Hell yeah. I'm a born narcissist. I love theatre. If you're in theatre, you're a narcissist. People love watching stories, hearing sounds. Who's going to do that? Narcissists. Who'd rather be an audience? I come from a world of performers, so I don't really know the answer to that. My friends are all attention seekers. Drama queens. We've fucked this many people, we've been screwed over this many times, we've been in this many bands, our hair truly is in touch with our individuality (which is a mirror of another individual which is a mirror of another and another . . .). I want those people to stop thinking about themselves and look at me. I want those who are not narcissists to look at me. I want everyone to look at me.

Why won't you look at me?

I'll just have to think of another way to make you look at me. Or keep doing what I'm doing. We all have magnets glued to the sides of our eyes. The object is for me to put enough attractive force into my own magnets so that yours feel me pulling you in, if only for a brief glance. I pine for a double take. Hell, I pray for stares.

This is what they should teach in art school programs. How to get stares. Instead they teach expression, how to get a feeling out. Valiant effort on putting a sugar coating on narcissism, but I'm not buying it. You're really trying to steer people inward, keeping your own performance as a teacher on top, getting more attention. You teach how to get people to maintain eye contact with you and your art, those pupils become successful. How to extrovert the introvert.

I've seen that before, this person's not saying anything new, it's not daring enough, this artist looks like an asshole, they seem quiet, they're not interesting. I've seen people sticking their dicks into a blowup doll's eye socket. It's not that original. It's not that interesting. Anybody can do it.

But can you turn that idea into a one minute section of a song? Can you get rid of the basal act? Can you turn it into an emotionally charged act that people can empathize with (and not just people who have also fucked a blowup doll or who are thinking about maybe branching off and embarking on that act in the future at some point)? How about something that won't get old? They'll keep staring at it for years and years.

I've got this shit. I can do this whoring of my art. I'll keep my integrity, I'll keep my good nature. I know who I am, I know my motivations. My motivations regard talking about my motivations, most of the time. It's all meta-self-analyzing.

Time to compose some emails . . .

PATCH: Show 1

2010-08-17T08:01:00.003-05:00

8/13/10 at Room Zero
Era: Trifectic
Opening band: Shield Your Eyes

1. Preclusion
2. Acknowledgments
3. Whisper a Scream
4. An Act of Three
5. The Private Collective

A good turnout for the debut. For some reason, I was completely exhausted. It saw it in the video we captured of the set. The music was still intense, but I need more to come out of the show. Especially from me. Paul went bonkers in The Private Collective, I loved it. His delay pedal ran out of battery, so he opted to get weird sounds through using Schuyler's cello bow on his guitar. Greg was solid, serious, tough as hell. He knew what he was doing.

TRIFECTIC

2010-08-11T22:15:00.005-05:00

PATCH ERA 1: TRIFECTIC

July 15, 2010 -- I get a call while on my way to practice by the current drummer in the band. He's stressing out about all the material he needs to learn by July 30th for our On Veins and Nothing launch. I say "Just ride it out, it'll get easier." At the actual practice, it seems like everything is falling apart. Paul has an impromptu appointment out in the boonies of Wisconsin, Greg's car breaks down, and the drummer is trying to prevent himself from having a nervous breakdown.

Talking with the drummer, I tell him exactly what I need from him if he's going to be in PATCH. Someone who will tour, say yes to 75% of the gigs I ask them to do, someone who can practice at least nine hours a week if need be. He says he can't do any of those. As he is saying this, I know that he is out. He could keep going for another two weeks for the show, but I don't feel up to the stress of the possibility of him not knowing the material due to his stress, our stress, etc. It isn't going to work. As he is talking, I'm already formulating answers to the post-drummer dilemma. We agree it's for the best for him to quit then and there. We stay friends, I call my girlfriend to spit and spew and vent for 15 minutes (it's necessary, that process), and then sit down at my drumset and write one line down on the first sheet of a blank notebook:

"All these lines mocking the marks of my life . . ."

Feeling angry, sad, frustrated, I look at that line for a good five minutes in the practice space, notebook sitting on my snare. I call Greg. He picks up. I tell him, "No On Veins and Nothing, the project's changed to something between the three of us." Greg casually says "Okay!" Paul says the same thing a few days later.

12 people have come and gone in Patch Live in the past 9 months. That's a heinous amount. There is only one chance left to do this, or else a bullet to the brain seemed plausible . . . at least, in terms of doing Patch Live. I can't take another failed attempt at going live.

I go home, sit down in front of my computer, turn my phone off, and jot down notes . . .

------------------------------------------------------------------

I came up seven songs that night. Random melodies and beats came to me. I committed them all to memory. When you're in a state of desperate anger you become more creative and are able to retain your findings easier. Seven songs. Three people in Patch. Three stories.

The subject matter was easy to figure out: my frustration with Patch Live. On Veins is about a broken heart. Trifectic was about a broken dream. And about the fight to make that dream a reality.

A. TRI

1. Preclusion

The significance of the word Preclusion is a big one for me and for a lot of my close friends. They make fun of me for using this word in the context of what it truly stands for. In my old band Citizens Banned, I always said Preclusion was the era of the band before we made it big. It was a prologue to success, but we were being successful in playing out, reaching for the dream. So it was a conclusion to the true pre-success era of the band. But things never worked out. The band fell apart.

The same thing happened in Patch back in February. I lost guitarists, bassists. I called the era Preclusion, writing material related to Schematics, our first EP, and a new sound. But that fizzled out pretty quickly with the loss of yet another bassist. Preclusion is basically my hope for a dream that always ends poorly, usually by the faults of others, and it affects me in a major way. I felt that I was at the end of my rope July 15th. Fuck, this song was going to be all about the "Try, Try Again" game I had been playing since Day 1 of Patch. We are three now (TRI), tried and beaten. But I realized we were the true bones making up the band all along.

2. Acknowledgements

The most literal song I've ever written. A basic BANG BANG BANG drop D shredder of anger and outright dark energy. Still reeling from the previous night, I got this one out in a matter of minutes. It's about everyone and no one, people that have been in Patch, and people in general. Sometimes I think of actual individuals while I sing it, other times it's about made up people. I've basically always said "What? You're leaving the band? Sigh . . . okay . . . we tried. Yeah, we're cool." Where did all the negative energy of those 12 foiled experiences go, piled together for nine continuous months within my brain? This song. No offense to those people. It was necessary. And it's only fair.

B. inFECtion

3. Whisper a Scream

I work with a child at my day job who most likely has autism, or a severe speech impediment. There's a small window within language development before seven years old where one could get help in order to find a way to bypass the impediment and develop normally. When this child started at our school, he was hopeless. Something was definitely wrong with him, but he was such a sweet child. I fell in love with him. My coworker and I tried to talk to his parents, but they were in complete denial. "Oh he's like that because we speak Spanish at home." Wrong! Did you know that you can actually learn every language on this green Earth and not have one impede on another before the age of 7? You could literally speak fluently in EVERY language if you wanted to before the language development peak at 7.

We were basically trying to rush the process with his parents to have him taken to therapy, maybe get diagnosed for early autism. But they wouldn't have it. Today, he's five years old, but he talks worse than his 26 month old sister (who is actually excelling in speech and is advanced for her age, ironically). His parents still haven't figured it out.

This song is my call out to him and his parents. I want him to figure out that there's something holding him back, and that he should be the one to scream to his parents, if even a tiny iota of a scream. A whisper, even. Before it's too late. C'mon! You can do it! Pleeeeeeeaseeeee . . . .

4. Silent Cache

Here I began branching off, creating a semi-fictional character who is beaten down by the world he lives in. He finds a way out in the end, but only after he's had to endure countless amounts of pain and failure for not getting the help he needed early in his life. He's a mute man, someone who can't speak for himself, even though he'd like to. He figures out a new way to exist that none of us could even fathom. Even my own call to him was detrimental. I get a little negative at our staff meetings when we discuss children's illnesses. Everyone has their fingers in the honeypot, too many cooks in the kitchen. Makes me uncomfortable. Too many opinions. That goes for anything in the world. Issues: there are too many sides, too many people get offended. Basically, this character can't give his opinion, he keeps it to himself (because he can't speak it), and finds a way out of the society we all seem to hate and bitch about whenever we can because he doesn't use his voice. He actually acts on something . . . when all we do is talk talk talk, never walking the walk. Maybe this child has an advantage over the rest of us . . .

5. An Act of 3

From the point of view of the character. It's about how he came to his new way of life and thinking. He goes on a mental rampage, killing everything in his head that stifled his potential to be somebody within society. He kills his political affiliations and starts from scratch on a new way of thinking about the world. He kills the doctors who told him he was autistic when it was too late. He's normal, just not in the same way. He kills his parents, who waited too long. This is all within his head (I think), and in the end he becomes someone new and prosperous. Does he commit suicide? The lyrics make it plausible, but I wasn't really going for that. It's kind of open ended.

This character is a personification of my struggle to speak in art, using an individual influenced by a real live boy that I work with to tell the story.

C. T:I:C

6. Here Again

Bringing the previous stories together into one mishmash ending, I take the styles of TRI (a progressive grunge sound) and inFECtion (a bluesy, folk sound) and put them into a jazzy blues grunge hodge podge (TrIfeC: TIC). Here Again and The Private Collective take place during a war. In my mind I tend to think WWII, but it could be any time, really. The war: one man's quest to become a man. To lose his youth and claim his dream, his career goals.

Here Again is youth personified as a female lover, pining for her soldier who has fled across the ocean of chance to the final confrontation of becoming an adult. She remembers how they met and how she knows she'll never see him again. She wonders if he ever thinks of her, if he'll ever send correspondence, tell her of his existence.

7. The Private Collective

The man questing for his adult status. He's fighting on a beach with untold amounts of other people questing for their dreams to be met. With the amount of laziness abound in this world and how people don't meet their potential, either by others fucking them over or by their own lack of ambition, I feel so few people ever truly become Adults, or successful dreamcatchers. A bunker, symbolizing the one true goal, shoots down all of these people in a sea of blood and gore. The man gets shot in the heart at one point (a nod to On Veins and Nothing, the next era in PATCH, and also one of the truest ways to make me stop dead in my ambitions -- I have a few demons I need help sifting out of me, let's just put it that way), and uses this against them. He takes it as his new strength and overtakes the bunker. But no one is inside when he reaches it. He sees fleets from the same enemy coming to shoot down what is now HIS bunker, and he mans the gun that was trying to shoot him down only moments before to protect his new status as a successful human being.

-------------------------

By finally performing Patch to a live audience, I truly feel like I've reached that bunker. Hence, why it is the last song. But now I feel like I need to protect it, keep going. The first line of Trifectic: "All these lines mocking the marks of my life" and the last line "We're not boys anymore" symbolize the growth of nine months and beyond. I've become somewhat hardened by my attempts to make Patch a reality. More confrontational, unafraid to stand up for myself. Mature is most likely the right word for it, and I do feel like that. But Patch is far from a mature enterprise, meaning it doesn't play with adult rules and guidelines. It's about as crazy and loud as you can imagine music being. We are in touch with our youth, sending correspondence, but taking action to make things happen. In a world where 85% just let life slip by after college, this is the story of overcoming that obstacle and taking matters in one's own hands.

PK

----------------------------------

2010-07-15T22:00:00.002-05:00

It's happened again.

We're back to a three-piece again. But we're keeping the show. I will MAKE this happen. It will have a very current feel, as in dealing with almost a metafictional storyline of the hardships with Patch Live. So far it's all I can think about. But I've already come up with two songs, stuff I'm pretty confident in. Who knows what a shut-in weekend will bring about?

Perversion of Youth Culture: The Baby Boomer Sloppy Seconders

2010-06-24T22:03:00.005-05:00

I was late for the party . . .

. . . low quality media penetrated the waves in space. Do it Yourself, funded by an Indie Label. 'Scuse me, Indie Label distributed by a Major Label. An afternoon thought wrought an evening's worth of work and it sold a million free copies on the Blogosphere.

Childhood trinkets that were juuuuust before our childhoods: tape, Atari, 8-Bit sound effects, wood panels, tall beers, stale colors and Polaroids. None of these things in the scene are new. In fact, I grew tired of it once I hit ten years old. Those of you making the scene at 18 just missed these facets of culture that were OUR upbringing, and you're not fooling anybody. Those of you who are slightly older, who have made the scene -- LET GO and EXPRESS through NEW means. Do not rely on what you did at five years old.

In my music class today, I invited six year olds to put random notes on an empty staff of music. They came up with an Indie hit. It sounded like our Current scene.

Do six year olds write like 26 year olds? <---> Do 26 year olds write like six year olds?

CUT THIS SCENE CUT THIS SCENE CUT THIS SCENE CUT THIS SCENE CUT THIS SCENE CUT

Two Months . . .

2010-06-03T18:45:00.002-05:00

Some new developments since last we wrote:

The "On Veins" material is coming along in a way I wasn't anticipating. I've recently felt that Patch needed to add another guitar to the mix. Plus, Dave had to cancel out due to the band conflicting with his family life. So, we've got Greg and Paul at a farther point (currently working on our fifth song out of eight), Eric (he's back, drumming for Patch in exchange for my own drumming services in his band, HighTV) just started one-on-ones with me last week (currently have almost two songs down), and a rhythm guitarist hopeful is coming in this weekend to test out the waters . . .

June is a month of one-on-ones, three different facets of learning the "On Veins" material. July we will coalesce as one entity, playing together, sprucing up the details and nitty gritties.

There is a date set. An actual, tangible date, but I don't want to announce it just yet in case of another setback. When it seems that all is well, that date will be known . . .

After a few more weeks of writing the final three songs for this first presentation, I will finish up the Schematics artwork and embark on the free sampler I have planned, titled Schematosis. I anticipate Patch Live debuting slightly before Schematics/Schematosis is released.

There is an end in sight.

Snowballs and Momentum

2010-04-18T18:33:00.003-05:00

Before I finish prepping for my music class, I figured I'd let the coffee sift into my bowels as I checked in on the blog, sent it off to Facebook, etc.

The acquisition of the new band members, Dave and Paul, has led to the greatest setup for the live band. Having had a few full practices now, I can't imagine a different setup. It's perfect. We all come from the same school of thought when it comes to music and art . . . primarily performance, which is the key element.

Throwing strange time signatures, strange dissonant notes, found instruments, the whole gamut at Greg, Paul, and Dave . . . they put up with a lot of challenges.

Currently, we've got about 11 minutes of material nailed down tight. Pretty soon I'll be showing some glimpses into the current project ("On Veins and Nothing"), but with style. I want to play it classy with the presentation of all this. Jumping the gun with photos and videos of the other players in the winter who have since left the band left me with a buffoon's grin on my face.

Slowly but surely, folks . . . I think we've got this, now . . .

From the Heart

2010-03-30T22:33:00.002-05:00

And from out of these cuts comes the empty drowse of fatigue. How much is left within me? I cut and I cut and I cut and do these demons fly out? Do you not see them? Because I haven't found them yet. Each lover, each opportunity is tainted with the dye of pepper and condiments, added bonuses to a deal I've been saving every last penny toward. Yet these sweeteners tend to poison the whole gamut.

If you've caught sight or wind of anything pouring out of me, let me know. This red light taints my ability to judge the drainage, and the weariness of the body has been steady since before you saw me take this razor to my skin.

There will be a time when I give up . . . I might pass out first, however . . .

Take 2

2010-03-18T21:50:00.002-05:00

Will this finally pan out? Will this be the lineup? Will this be the final "first" direction we take?

I don't want to jinx anything anymore. I'll shut up until dates are announced.

Transplant

2010-03-09T18:53:00.003-06:00

When you've hit the bottom, you become numb to everything that comes your way, good or bad. I could have been stricken with cancer last week and I probably would have just said, with glazed eyes, "Okay."

Things have played themselves out. I wouldn't say "worked" themselves out, per se. I'm contemplating still.

Schematics is done in the audio department. It sounds amazing! I picked up the finished copy at the opening for Room Zero, Schuyler's new performance/creation space in Northeast, right down the street from Karmath Studio, actually. At the opening, four bands, including Schuyler's own, played live noise sets. The gears started turning in my own head.

Schuyler had asked me a couple of months ago to play at Room Zero at one of the monthly gigs that he's planning on having each month from here on out. The space is perfect. It will hold the right amount of people, it will generate the right kind of feeling that I would want Patch to generate in people's heads. The whole night I came up with new ideas for the first live representation of Patch. The initial idea has been stripped away from me time and time again. It will be void of Schematics, it will be all "Veins".

May . . .

The Patch Live/Sisyphus Analogy

2010-03-03T23:05:00.002-06:00

OCTOBER 2009: Mixing is nearing completion on Patch 1: Schematics. During one of the mixing sessions with Schuyler, my co-producer, Schuyler's friend Scotty comes in to say hi. He mentions that he is a freelance drummer, currently rehearsing for an audition for a band looking for a stand-in if the regular drummer is unavailable. He gives me his card, it's best to get as many people as possible for auditions for Patch Live, which would be coming up soon.

I'm also in talks with good friends (Dustin, Adri, Greg) to possibly be in the band. I have a space in the back of my house that I've been using for live music two years and counting. Things are looking up. I have everything I could want. My birthday occurred, I realized all of the friends I had, now it's time to step forward into the ether. Halloween is the last good day of the year . . .

NOVEMBER 2009: I have a professional meeting with Scotty. We discuss the fact that he's a paid musician, he isn't tied to a band at all, he's a freelancer. Being a stickler for people who commit to projects, and seeing as though I'm not really paying rent on top of the house for the practice space, I figure "Why not? It's only a little bit of money."

I try out another drummer. I opt for Scotty, thinking that the money would make him commit to the material needed to be learned. I get the band together twice to mix together, see how people rehearse on their own. We have good rehearsals, progress is made.

While on a trip to the West Coast, the current guitarist, Dustin, opts out because of beliefs against paying one person and nobody else. I draw up a manifesto while on a much needed vacation to persuade him to stay, where I basically cancel outings with my family to come up with a solution. Alas, he doesn't bite. The rest of the band finds this as a valid belief system, I seek another guitarist.

DECEMBER 2009: I come up with another guitarist to complete the five piece dream. He is Matt Anderson, of The Engagement fame. We have one rehearsal with him. Progress hasn't been made since the last rehearsal. Matt's a great guitar player, however, and I attempt to reign him in some more. He cancels out on each rehearsal thereafter, finally telling me that he can't commit to his job and two bands at the same time. I understand.

As Scotty practices in the back room one night, I get a knock on the front door. It's my neighbor, complaining about the noise. Back in November, I ventured over to tell her that I would be starting up another band in the back. As I did this, her dog escaped from her clutches and bit me on the ass, tearing my pants to shreds. We had come to an agreement to stop noise at 9:00pm. It is 8:00pm on this new visit. She threatens to call the cops on me if I ever have another rehearsal again. If I can make the noise "half-volume" then it would be okay. I tell her that's impossible, there's only one person currently in the back, that's 1/5th volume right there. She says I have to go find a new place to practice.

Scotty leaves for Maine a couple days later for Winter Break. In this time I seek to find both a new space and a new lead guitarist.

JANUARY 2010: I find a new space at Citysound. My friend Eric points me in the direction of this space through his old band, Solid Gold, and a collaborator named Lucas. Upon hearing about us wanting to move in, Solid Gold opts to move out, making the rent higher. We now pay $200 as a band, along with all but one paying Scotty. I also make an executive decision to go as a four piece from here on out. I'm not having any luck finding another guitarist.

Scotty returns at the end of the month, and we have one rehearsal as a four piece. It's productive, but not the best. A week later, the bills need to be paid to Citysound, Lucas, and Scotty. Adri opts out at this point, stating that he cannot pay for everything now, and that he can't commit to two bands and looking for a job, having been recently laid off from his day job. Rehearsals have to go on hold.

I find responses to my Bassist Needed ads on the web, but they all ask why we're paying the drummer and nobody else. Eric has texted me in the meantime, asking if I still needed a bass player. I trust him and his abilities, I say sure.

FEBRUARY 2010: Eric becomes the next bass player. Two rehearsals are had, but again they're not as productive as I'd like. I start opting to take out everything we've learned so far, thinking that our current setup is not conducive to the material just yet. In time it will be. I draw up new plans, and we start working on them. The sound is good, the material solid. I'm finally happy with the setup and the direction we are going.

MARCH 2010: Just before the first rehearsal of the month, Eric opts out due to the hefty fees, the job obligations, and not being able to commit to more than one band at a time. A recurring theme. The fees for Scotty and rent go up so much so that I become resilient to keep paying Scotty at all.

Currently, I'm at a crossroads. My live band is falling apart. My drummer is on the fritz due to money constraints, I've lost my fourth player. I've thought to become a three piece, but the money is a major factor now if Patch is to be a three-piece. Everything I had back in October/November has fallen apart. I am paying an arm and a leg due to mainly two factors: being outed from my home's rehearsal space and having a committed drummer who wishes to be paid at every rehearsal.

I'm a man come apart.

Yet, I did receive the final master of Schematics today. But I quite possibly have no live band to show for it.

"Follow your dreams" is a bullshit statement at the moment.

Reflector

2010-02-11T21:15:00.003-06:00

Flashback: 2006 . . . April 21 . . .

I took a look at a one way mirror, reflecting me, my soulmate was looking at me from the other side. It was probably one of the most poignant relationships I've had to this day. I saw what I was, she saw what I was. For the first time.

It was only a matter of time before I put everything in perspective. The day it came to me was this day . . . and it was too late. I understood why she treated me the way she had for the entire relationship.

I love her to this day for it. I hate myself to this day for it.

It was this day we parted ways . . .

. . . cut from veins . . .

Sunday Stroll

2010-02-08T22:41:00.003-06:00

I've had a good time so far with "Veins". This is Day 5 of recording, after starting it a week ago. It should be Day 6, and I should be working on it now, but whatever.

That's the point. It's been pleasurable. But I don't want to make it seem like an obligation unless it IS an obligation. I have an obligation to get the current project done two weeks from now, due to a Patch Live order of business. And we'll leave it at that. I'll take my time with "Veins". I don't want it to be another "Schematics", where I became feverish and bulgy eyed at the end. "Switch" was brutal. A two week sprint. You can hear the fever during the last minute or so of the song. The screams were due to a hoarse throat, with coughing fits in between takes, hawking up snot. But I had to get it done by May 4th, had to get it done by then, had to. And then . . . the reason it was supposed to be done became redundant. Mixing went on hiatus for the summer. At least I was done with it.

Having gone through that experience, I don't want to do it again, unless it was absolutely necessary. So I'll take my time with this. Concentrate on Patch Live necessities for the time being. I'll bide my time with "Veins", like a Sunday stroll in the park.

So far, it sounds brutal and mature. I'm liking it.

*EDIT* -- So, after taking a look at the necessities of Patch Live, "Veins" has become a necessity by default. Looks like it will be feverish and sprinted. At least it's only for one song.

Back in Session

2010-02-01T22:03:00.001-06:00

The "Cutting Veins" Sessions have started. Hopefully these will go faster than the "Schematics" sessions that lasted a whole year. Five songs there. Four here. I want to crank these babies out in three weeks or less each.

Bad Romance

2010-01-31T22:06:00.003-06:00

I saw the Minstrel when he went too far . . .
I saw the Carnival where he went too far . . .
They don't know me
They don't know me
Yet they care that I stare

I saw the whole thing, I saw the whole thing go down
I saw the making of the nuclear bomb
I don't know them
I don't know them
But frankly I don't care

You did this to yourselves

Break yourselves from all you've wanted
Shed some light on who you are (Turn the lights off)
Find my life in your depressions
Made prescriptions from your highest scriptures
Which one is a copy?
And which one was original?

Another itched . . .
Another itched . . .
And another itched . . .
Yet another itched . . .

The Black Cloud Over Patch Continues to Rain Down on my Persistent Climb

2010-01-28T21:47:00.004-06:00

Adri has left the live band. Which puts me at a fork in the road.

I will feverishly search for a new bassist. If this doesn't turn up any results by the end of the Super Bowl on February 7th . . . we're going three piece.

That might be interesting . . .

Breaking My Rule Already

2010-01-27T23:33:00.003-06:00

Another light bulb went off in the bathroom just now . . . "On Veins and Nothing" . . . hmmmmmmmm . . .

Fuck Limbo

2010-01-27T21:52:00.002-06:00

I have a habit of getting excited easily. I also have a habit of announcing what it is I'm excited about too early in the game. Omiss is one of those things.

I'm sick of Omiss. The way it is . . . it's too complicated, and it wasn't supposed to be that difficult of a project.

I'm thinking about keeping one track, Limbo, since it pretty much covers the gist of Omiss. The rest of Project 2? Let's just say I'm currently looking into topics other than the Limbo of Love for some inspiration. More muses are coming from those areas anyway . . . plus, I think the inspiration for Omiss has subsided in reality for the time being. It's actually made me more calm.

Currently reading Howard Zinn in sort of an observance of his recent death. Maybe I can come up with another "Nebraska" this weekend.

Getting Out of Limbo

2010-01-26T23:31:00.002-06:00

I'm hoping to finish the rough draft of Omiss in the next couple of days. I'm also gunning for February 1st to be the first day of the Omiss Sessions. How long it's going to take, I don't know. It was planned to be of a simpler nature than things I've done in the past, but I'm sure there will be obstacles within.

It's really going to rest on my ability to quickly make interesting dynamic electronic drum loops. The rest is pretty simple and DIY.

I had a warm-up session with an old song yesterday and today, a project for my good friend David Nehring. Laying vocals down for a song he and his brother Matt recorded a while back. It was fun getting back into recording after The Lizard People stint in early fall of '09.

Once I find some free time from Omiss, there are also plans to re-record vocals for some reworked Citizens Banned songs, also worked on by Dave. Lots of recording to be had in these wintry months.

A New Beginning

2010-01-24T22:08:00.004-06:00

Moved into the new space this weekend. Had our first official rehearsal this afternoon.

I say first OFFICIAL rehearsal only in that it was after a long spout of inactivity. During this time I was figuring out the setup of the band, the space, it was unfocused. Now, it's full speed ahead until we hit the stage. When that will happen exactly I can't say. I CAN say in the spring, though.

Here's a snippet of an intro to Typosgraphy . . .

One Sided Transactions

2010-01-17T16:22:00.003-06:00

Rest does not happen in my bedroom. It happens on the living room couch or at Borders.

The splendid thing about Borders is that inspiration tends to be a byproduct of a visit there. Books are read, the mind wanders, coffee is consumed, ideas sprout. I just came up with album art for Omiss (and my first tattoo design, if it sticks), for one. Now, at home, listening to music on Lala.com, I hope to finish the initial rough draft for Omiss. Two songs left.

Omiss, again, deals with the connection one has with those they become smitten with. Is the connection returned or realized by the other? Does it matter? When should it matter?

I read a book entitled "How to Live" by Henry Alford this afternoon. It wasn't a self-help book, a cheesy cash-in for the coffee/tea drinking proverb seeking intellectual. It was a heartfelt insight into seeking answers to a big question: what is wisdom? And do the elderly hold the answer for the rest of us still attempting to start in our wisdom garnering?

Looking up from my reading, I saw a woman that I recognized at a table across from mine. She is a bank teller at the bank I frequent, a manager, if I'm not mistaken. One day she deposited a check for me, and I was a little smitten with her (having just watched "Catch Me If You Can" last night whilst nursing a cold, I find this funny). She was beautiful, still is. She has an interesting walk, seemingly wrought from walking back and forth in the bank and screwing up her calves from the massive high heels she wears with her form fitting slacks. I couldn't tell if it was her or not at first at Borders, but when she got up to get coffee, that walk was the answer I needed.

I wasn't about to go over to talk to her, seeing as though I have no basis of conversation with her, other than "Hey, you work at the bank! You put my check into my account, once! You . . . also . . . walk cool?"

I took this opportunity to inflict some of the basis and feeling behind Omiss to what I was reading, sending my brain into a fury of theory and creativity. A connection was there, but she didn't know it. Maybe there's one on her end, but it's not noticed by me either. I'll assume she thought I looked familiar, but couldn't care less about me.

But to know that you can have an effect on people, people who wouldn't embark on developing a relationship with you, but keeping you in their thoughts anyway. It's a tier below (or maybe above) celebrity fixation. Living and knowing a person without them knowing you.

Omission.

But omitting on your own accord . . . embarking on a relationship might make you want to forget that person in the end. From having a bad relationship, a boring one, a great one but where you hardly think about the person unless you're with them, they're conveniently around, etc. Omiss-ing on your own accord: could it be the best relationship you never knew you could have? If you were okay not being involved with them, then how many of these relationships might you have coexisting at the same time? And which of them do you walk out of that limbo for, killing possibility and finding either rejection or reciprocation?

I guess I'm asking if this is the best relationship, a quasi-Plato style way of thinking about love, or if it's just an important style of relationship that we tend to not think too much about.

Food for thought this Sunday . . . inspiration chasing . . .

Favorable Reactions

2010-01-16T22:36:00.004-06:00

Trying to do what I want to do career wise, it's hard to be okay with novelty.

What I mean is, whenever I explain a work or a project, people have one of two reactions. 1) Awesome! 2) They argue my thesis, or what I'm trying to say in that art. These are both favorable reactions, given that they could have none at all, or doing the faux act of "nodding and smiling". "It's cool, yeah." Sure.

I've struck it nicely so far. I've met opposition with my parents regarding "In Hopes to Mend" and the aspect of rape. Rape is a recurring theme in my work, it seems. Well, rape in the most "appropriate" form. I put that in quotations since rape is obviously not appropriate in any form, but at what point does politically incorrect meet up with taste? Projects that seem to be completely disgusting and outlandish in my mind are more met with the former reaction of Awesome! Projects that seem to be safer are met with the latter, full of argument.

Omiss has garnered argument moreso than Necrotica. Necrotica deals with a lust killer, a man keeping an illness under wraps in his head, thrust into a situation where he might lose control of his mental stability and commit murder in real life (I'm trying not to give too much away). Omiss is personal, a true story, about me and my thoughts on certain people in my life. Without telling who the story is about, people still ask questions on what it means. It's obviously about one person, but who it's about I'm not telling. That's for me to know and for you to find out if the cards are right and the stars aligned.

It still surprises me, though, both reactions. I'm the most humble person you're ever going to meet. I take pride in my work, and I love it to death, but it's easily scrapable. Meaning if, for instance, the band doesn't like the song, it's not giving them the willies as other songs might, I might just say "Fuck it, I'll rewrite it. Let's move on to the next thing on the list." But at first, I feel slapped with the argument reaction. I go, "Wait, there's something wrong with this way of thinking? I'm sorry." I can either defend it, or listen to their comments outright and assimilate what they say into the reworked story or project. Again, though, it's shakes me up at first. When people like the work or argue with it, that means it's doing it's job. Making people think and empathize.

That's the goal, and so far I'm meeting that with the recordings and story pitches. I can't speak about the live band yet, but I garner I will be able to once March rolls around. Same goes for the recordings, since they will be released to the public at that time, too. That's the true test of goal preservation and/or rethinking.

The Brainwashed Eyes for CGI

2010-01-16T10:50:00.003-06:00

I hate on CGI. I do. I can't stand it. If it's seamless, go for it. Lots of cool green screen overlays and backgrounds have wow'd me (most of television uses green screens for their city backgrounds, since they film on a soundstage or studio backlot). But I think we're brainwashed into thinking CGI is a good thing.

Avatar was fake to me.

The Abyss and Terminator 2 were not.

Am I the only one who was distracted by the CGI in Avatar? Everyone's flaunting the movie as the NEXT BIG THING . . . for what, furthering the suspension of stupidity for believing cartoon characters amidst live action shots? Give me full on computer animation, Pixar, whatever, but I hate blending. It kills it.

Christopher Nolan only used CGI when it was ABSOLUTELY necessary in the Batman resurgence. Everything else was model based. It looked great, despite some obvious computered images. The aforementioned T2 and Abyss . . . they used liquid forms in their computer generated images, and it was fine. The T-1000 was great, since it was minimal. The alien form in Abyss was water based, it looked cool. You can't do convincing modeling with liquid forms without making it look cheesy.

Yeah, Avatar made me cry. Not gonna lie. But Dances with Wolves is better. Just sayin'. Ain't one bit o' CGI going on there. It's more convincing.

Sorry for pooing all over the Avatar craze, but yeah . . . CGI still isn't cutting it for me.

Bukowski Might Have Said This

2010-01-14T22:28:00.003-06:00

On my calendar, there's a nice little bunch of blocked off sections of color coded events marked "OMISS WRITING". In this time of no live activity, I've tried my damndest to come up with 3 good songs to record in the next month. Holy Hell, I forgot how much I hated obligatory writing.

You can't rush this sort of thing. All of my songs came to me sporadically, whilst on the bus, doing work at a day job . . . more often than not, while shitting on the toilet. The only song that was forced, like literally forced out of me in an extreme bout of frustration due to booking a hotel room and shacking up by myself for the entire night to write an entire EP's worth of material . . . was "Trachomanic". That was the only time something stuck out of force. The rest came out of the blue.

I've got some good ideas, but they're complicated. I wanted this to be more found instrument based, pots and pans, acoustic, electronic loops, nothing too difficult. I'm currently futzing with a song that has crazy drum loops that change from one section to the next.

How's about we take a break from all this and write when it hits me in the shower? I might just scrap a lot of what I've got for the sake of simplicity. I don't want this to turn into another "Schematics", slaving away for a year in my room. A month at most should be the timetable.

Don't force art. It will turn out shitty. If it has to be forced, set up a strict deadline so that you get creative out of necessity. But it can't be a made up deadline that you make for your own timetable, it has to be something for someone else . . . I can't explain it.

Just cool it, Pete. No pressure.

Moving plans have changed, as well. Solid Gold is moving from the space and forfeiting their keys and cards over to us. We move next week, most likely. We also resume rehearsals next weekend.

This time they won't let up until we have live shows.

She Smiled At Me

2010-01-08T19:33:00.005-06:00

She smiled at me today.

I can't call it love, honestly, but there's something there on my end.

I've lost myself in the discombobulation of sex and physicality. I've grown bored of this front. The vaginal walls of "lovers" grow wider with age, stretched with use, and I feel less and less. I'm a loving prostitute, I give you pleasure, but I'm left with the baggage of another checkmark, and a means to get out.

Leave me alone.

I need to know this one before I can touch the ground again. She makes me throw that cursed physical molasses film coating my empathetic heart into the laundry hamper.
I no longer want her as an Omiss. But it could be for the best.

It might be the best for love, but my head won't rest until I act . . .

Karmath the Blog's Residual Effects

2010-01-07T23:40:00.003-06:00

In December, near the end of my year long daily journal Karmath the Blog, I used Vic Chesnutt's music to help rein in some of my negative feelings about the holiday season. Thoughts about the emptiness of certain Christmas attributes and how I've lost myself in both positivity and negativity when it comes to seeing my family at this time of the year, etc.

Turns out Vic Chesnutt died on Christmas Day, 2009, after overdosing on muscle relaxants.

Take from that what you will. I call it a negative affirmation, if anything.

Thinking of you, Vic . . .

The Interim

2010-01-06T22:04:00.002-06:00

Post-Holidays is a definite drag. You really do start to realize the full extent of the Winter Limbo that will take residence all around you for four proceeding months if you're within the northern part of the States. That foreboding sense of doom and "Oh god . . ."

Today, it caught up to me in full force. Sipping on a beer, looking for a muse through two inspirational heads: Radio and Portis . . . alas, nothing for tonight, except a bit of depression and want for what I'm currently writing about in Project 2. Love and feeling the pressure of what's to come in the next season, both in terms of weather and in Patch. I've battled for a rehearsal space, I'm trying to acquire a lead guitarist. So far, all of my searches and leads in the guitarist department have come up short. It's a small interim, a passage of gloominess, and I'll see the light once I get some time to myself, I suppose. This happens to the best of us.

The interim. I'd like to finish writing Omiss this weekend and finally put the guitarist situation to rest. Thirdly, I need to prepare the new material for Live rehearsals and get ready for the big move to the new space. We'll be bunking up with Solid Gold, quite possibly the most successful local band in the Cities, currently. It should be interesting, to say the least. An electro-pop band mixing with an electro-proggy-grunge outfit. Time will tell . . .

Project 2: Omiss

2010-01-04T22:26:00.003-06:00

Quite possibly the first true to life, all me, present day journal-ish musical project I've ever done. No characters here. No extensions.

All me.

And all her.

Out of Hiding

2009-11-05T00:43:00.000-06:00

How can, how can, how can you make routine slide?
How can the safest course wind up and collide with
The epitome of instability
The full amount of one man’s humility
A dual standoff with my disability

Does it – does it make you happy
To see me?
Does it – I mean, does it – do you -- do you remember me?
Of course you don’t, of course, of course, how could you ever have known
What we did before?
And what we’ll do again . . .

Behind my closed eyes, will she know?
A lack of surprise or virginize apropos
Make sure that the surface doesn’t know the answer
Plant it deep
Throw away intuition, slowly squeeze it out
Naturally

Store it away, store it away, make a tow line to thwart a stray
Store it away, store it away, make a tow line to thwart a stray

I never saw her coming back

I knew what I was
Not what I am anymore
She claimed all I kept residing
Inside out of hiding

The masks over our heads manufactured by hand
A rare hermit laden with a leper’s skin
Passed off by tainted molded plastic sin
Shaped like a grin
Left to the script, and left to the basics
We’ve been here before
She winks off formalities and sheds décor
Down to the floor
We make love with an echo beside us
We make love that we both hear
We make love with a hidden agenda
Clutching skin with smiles most sincere

I’ve felt love before
Not what I felt inside her
She turned on the novel parts
And soldered our two hearts

How could I have known?!
How could I have known?!

Uhh . . . uhhh . . .
A-ah, a-ah, a-ah, a-ah, aa-hahh x4

I never saw her coming back to me
Everybody in the past always ceased to be
In bed with the dead, what have I become?
In bed with the dead, in bed, oh god!

I knew what I was (what have I become?)
Not what I am anymore (what have I become?)
She claimed all I had residing (what have I become?)
Inside out of hiding

Does it – does this make you happy
Have you felt this before? Oh god, in heaven
The -- the only thing to keep it inside
Is to keep going for more

Routine Measures

2009-10-24T11:38:00.000-05:00

Blink your eyes
Once or twice you’ll live in the moment
Multiply
And you’ll keep her in your pocket forever
Don’t forget her
Don’t forget her

Sleep comes and I’ll
Live with her till the day breaks
Just for one night
Then she will be discarded forever
I’ll forget her
I’ll forget her

Everybody’s safe as long as I keep it together
Forever
Cut up into pieces and fed to the vultures
I’ve kept it
Together

Do lovers from the past regret?
The air is bare
Hands of the fallen, do you regret?
I didn’t think so
You didn’t even know so

Kept secret from the world, I’ve loved you all
Regret has yet to rear its head
Even in your pieces, you’ve stayed intact
Free as birds, you wear the rust of my cage

How many lives have been taken so far?
How many wives have I taken so far? x2

Despite all of this, I know my place
It’s not right, I know I’m not right
I’ve kept it together for all this time
For that I’m right
For that I’m right

I’ve never doubted myself, I put the pieces all together with the strongest of glues
I’ve never been accused, all the evidence exists yet there have been no clues
How can you even blame me for knowing what would happen if I saw one twice?
I never saw her coming, I never saw her coming back

Ritual Typeology

2009-10-20T22:24:00.004-05:00

amongst the piles i've committed EROTOPHONOPHILIA there was one who came up twice. bloodied and embodying what should only be described as a corpse. i've kept this at bay, but she may have broken into the novel reaches of unfamiliarity i've lusted for so long FANTASY -- SYMBOLISM -- RITUALISM -- COMPULSION. inside, she lusts the same. inside, she too has made a ritual. cunning, methodical, we're playing a game FLAGELLATION -- PICQUERISM -- ANTHROPOPHAGY -- VAMPIRISM -- NECROSADISM. i can only imagine she is seeking revenge in the sweetest way possible. if i win, she wins. if she wins, i win. she might break me. i don't know REHEARSED REPEATEDLY IN MIND WHILE MASTURBATING if i'll finally squelch my compulsion ORGANIZED NONSOCIAL TYPE or if i'll continue on. i only know that if it's the latter, with the ongoing need for novelty, what can surpass my necro-other?

The Epicenter of Madness

2009-10-18T20:11:00.004-05:00

Like an artery, it pulsed. Throwing wind, blood, and heat. The steep incline connecting two spotlights.
1. Where my vision was tainted, and the concoction brewed:
2. Where he finally stepped forward after I was left alone. He spoke to me. He became me.
And from here I began to write . . .

Disclaimer: On Veins and Nothing

2009-10-17T21:39:00.000-05:00

We take little parts of others with us along our travels. Once we leave those people, we secretly/forgetfully/forcefully take those parts with us in our pockets. Whoever is left lessened by the taking of their person, it is unbeknownst, like the dust particles lying on top of the surfaces of their epicenters. They don’t miss their dust.

Some of the trinkets include stabbing thorns, things better left alone, or out of your pocket, for the sake of holes in your cloths. If you find yourself with one of these thorns, how best to proceed? Study it, throw it away immediately, eat it, give it back, etc.

I wanted to study my thorn bush. I named it Afton.

In a spotlight filtered red, I brought the examining chair up to dangerous levels. Close enough to kiss my lips. The same kiss occurred two months ago, and now it will reoccur every second of the day. That is the curse of studious voyeurism.

Prick my finger on every thorn, drawing blood made invisible by the light. How much blood have I lost?

Substances flood what is left inside, dyeing me the color of black, overflowing my innards into a pool of reality and fiction, coexisting forevermore. We are after the fact, but within fiction eternally.

Version 1.0

2009-10-09T00:54:00.000-05:00

He asked me once to step right up
He made me look into his light
We met with awe at who we were
He smiled and said “You can take my place if you like”

Now the drums turn to guns turn to anything I want
And the notes ring high with hardly any try
At the center of it all is everyone
And we choose to base it all off one tired song

Where is the fight?
Can you do wrong?
Is there any chance at all that you will fail?
I want to fall
I want to take
All the rest of you down to the bottom with me
Cause I only know
Vernacular
Stemmed from the school of Typosgraphy . . .

Four Little Monkeys

2009-08-10T17:47:00.002-05:00

Four little monkeys jumping on the bed
'Till one fell off and hit his head
He went to the doctor but the doctor said
"You knew what you were doing jumping on that bed."

So that poor little monkey went back to the bed
To see if the others fell and hurt their heads
"We're fine," said one as he continued to jump
Leaving our poor monkey to nurse his bump.

The monkey heard a creak and the bed began to crack
He said, "Look what we did, you're gonna break your backs!"
"We're fine," said another, "you worry too much!
Come back and join us, you'll be fine with your crutch."

"It's gotten worse since the fall, I think it's reached my brain.
But you have your fun, I don't mean to complain."
Hoping all the others had some care to give
But they only kept on jumping, merely saying, "You'll live."

The monkey felt sick, so he went on home
A loss of appetite, feeling so alone
He felt it getting worse, splitting his lobes in two
With no doctors and no friends, he didn't know what to do.

Three little monkeys jumping on a broken bed
Forgetting one had fallen off and destroyed his head
To stop the split the poor monkey slit his wrist
All while the other three kiss, kiss, kissed.

No Ground

2009-02-06T18:06:00.005-06:00

Mission statement . . . revised.

"Typosgraphy" Clip (ASCAP)

Karmath "The Blog"

2009-01-01T20:27:00.003-06:00

I've started a new 2009 journal blog over at karmath2009.blogspot.com. Should be updated everyday with personal accounts, Patch related endeavors, MP3's, videos, etc. This blog will still be up and running, but it will be sporadic. All of the entries dealing with Patch in "Karmath" will be fleshed out more here. It gets confusing trying to find all the Patch only stuff in the garbage journal.

Break

2008-12-18T13:19:00.003-06:00

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

2008-12-15T17:19:00.004-06:00

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

LCD (Lips Condemned and Dumb)

2008-12-14T12:52:00.004-06:00

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

2008-12-13T15:14:00.004-06:00

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

Che

2008-12-11T18:56:00.001-06:00

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

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

LCD: Done

2008-12-11T18:03:00.004-06:00

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

2008-12-08T00:31:00.002-06:00

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 . . .

2008-12-04T19:20:00.001-06:00

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

LCD: Lost Count

2008-12-01T21:45:00.002-06:00

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

2008-11-22T19:30:00.000-06:00

Refrain is done. Tomorrow the solo.

Amidst Gray Skies

2008-11-20T15:18:00.002-06:00

The leaves fell off the trees again.

And where was I?

Introverting. Lending perspectives to extroverts.

I hope it comes across.

LCD: Day 8

2008-11-19T16:27:00.003-06:00

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

2008-11-16T22:58:00.004-06:00

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

2008-11-15T21:37:00.003-06:00

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

2008-11-14T18:01:00.002-06:00

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

2008-11-11T20:19:00.002-06:00

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

2008-11-10T22:40:00.001-06:00

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

Revisions

2008-11-07T15:03:00.002-06:00

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

2008-11-05T17:25:00.002-06:00

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 . . .

2008-10-22T22:09:00.003-05:00

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?

2008-10-17T23:40:00.002-05:00

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

2008-10-15T23:29:00.005-05:00

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'

2008-10-15T19:11:00.002-05:00

For the day he runs away . . .

Breaking Protocol

2008-10-14T21:40:00.002-05:00

Another muse called today.

Writ Connections

2008-10-09T20:51:00.003-05:00

More writing. Harder today for some reason.

Misleading Placental Praising

2008-10-08T17:58:00.005-05:00

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

The Day I Lost Control

2008-10-07T19:44:00.003-05:00

"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

2008-10-05T12:25:00.004-05:00

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

Mended Structure

2008-09-28T17:54:00.003-05:00

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

2008-09-27T01:51:00.002-05:00

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

2008-09-27T00:24:00.004-05:00

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

2008-09-26T22:21:00.004-05:00

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

Abortion

2008-09-24T21:52:00.003-05:00

Fuck.

3

2008-09-24T17:25:00.003-05:00

Slowly but surely the pieces will make themselves mine.

2 - Dramaturgical Butcherings

2008-09-23T22:04:00.004-05:00

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

2008-09-22T18:42:00.003-05:00

Potential Energy

2008-09-18T21:36:00.003-05:00

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

2008-08-28T16:57:00.006-05:00

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

2008-08-24T09:53:00.005-05:00

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

2008-08-21T21:00:00.004-05:00

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)

2008-08-20T22:28:00.009-05:00

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

2008-08-20T15:04:00.004-05:00

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 . . .

2008-08-19T00:02:00.005-05:00

Two Months

2008-08-16T21:13:00.002-05:00

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"

2008-08-04T21:11:00.003-05:00

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

2008-07-28T00:12:00.004-05:00

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

2008-07-14T22:30:00.009-05:00

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

2008-07-02T16:09:00.012-05:00

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

2008-06-30T22:16:00.003-05:00

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

2008-05-28T20:56:00.004-05:00

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

http://schuylertsuda.com/

Peephole

2008-05-14T18:52:00.004-05:00

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?