lies across the street from this:
Its mix of old and new, of families and businesses, of labourers and hipsters reminds me of Brooklyn. My teaching duties take me there every day of the week. This week, I also spent the weekend there, first seeing a concert on Saturday, then recording on Sunday with Les Fat Jones.
The session was organised by Desert Pearl Union, the music collective we joined this fall. The goal was to record and videotape two songs that will be released on a compilation. It had been scheduled and cancelled before, so we were all quite enthusiastic to get it done. We therefore did the least rock and roll thing possible and arrived precisely on time, finding the place shuttered and abandoned.
"Did I say five? I thought I'd told you six," was the reply when we called to find out what was going on, so we went to the bar around the corner to watch Formula 1 racing. I'm not much of a sports fan in general and watching vehicle races come at the bottom of the list of ways to spend time, right after golf. (Rooting against the Jets is now at the top. So satisfying.)
Mario and Victor of Desert Pearl did show up and we went to the studio to set up. The downside of being a keyboard and vocalist means I am the only musician in the band who is at the mercy of others for sound. When we play a concert or set up in a studio, the guitarists plug in and play, Poke can hit his drums at will, while I stand impotently by, waiting for the engineer to turn on the d.i. and mic. My random-noise-making potential is thus diminished. My random-picture-taking potential is however given room to flourish.
We recorded a couple of new songs live, Peel-style. The idea is to have them out for Christmas. And I'll be back to Poble Nou tomorrow night for our gig.
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