I am in the process of finding/making drum tracks. It looks like it will be 50/50 between ripped tracks and drum loops.
I am going through old jazz and R&B recordings for jazzier drumming samples. I really like the spacey feel which the sparse jazz influenced drumming gives a track. (see PF's "Breathe" and RH's "Spinning Plates" or Hendrix's "Third Stone" for examples). Good drums really make the entire track. (If I knew how important drums were when I was 11, I would have learned to play drums instead of guitar). Charlie Watts of the Stones also does a great job of laying the foundation. If I was feeling blasphemous I could sample some of Ringo's tacks, but I am not sure that I want to mess with the Beatles.
That's about it for this installment. If you have any suggestions of good drum track let me know.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Wrong Number?
I am not sure why, but I receive a lot of calls with wrong numbers on my cell phone. Five minutes ago I just received a text from a local number asking "can I go tomorrow so I can set an alarm or not cause I'm tired!!!" I have no idea who this is from, and I have no idea what event is going on tomorrow. Last Thursday or Friday night a girl called me up at around 6 o'clock and asked "this is Pizza Hut right?" I told her it was not and she quickly hung up.
For a while there was an elder man who would call me every month or so from a 210 (San Antonio,TX) area code. Each time he called he would speak to me in what seemed to be a tonal Asian language (I am guessing Hmong, it didn't sound Chinese or Vietnamese). I tried to respond to him in Mandarin each time, hoping that he was some contact form the mission. He wouldn't respond to my ni hao's or qingwen's so then I would try to ask him in English how he got this number. From his lack of response to my English questions, I infer that he didn't speak English. So I was unable to find out how he got my number, and why he persisted in calling me month after month.
My favorite random caller happened last August. I received several calls from a man with what sounded like a Middle Eastern accent. He claimed to be from somewhere in the Arab world and for all I know he was. He had somehow mistaken me for a one "Madame Amima." (Amima may not be spelled correctly, I spelt it pout phonetically, he never spelt it out for me). Apparently, he was under the impression that my cell phone number was the number for some escort service on the East Coast.
In the first message to my voicemail he explained that someone back home had recommended the Madame's services to him and gave my number to him. The first message left me shocked at his forwardness on a voicemale that introduces itself as "Nate Reid's voicemail", but grateful for the laughs provided at his expense. However, the fun didn't stop there. I soon recieved other messages. He started calling while I was at work. He called 8 times in one day, leaving messages of the same every time. Each one expressing praise for the quality of Madame Amima's serivces (he never was explicit in what these services entailed). Finally, he called when I was able to talk to him. I tried to explain that I had no idea who this madame was nor how he found my cell number. If I figured this confrontation would stop him I was wrong. He continued to call and leave more messages. After a couple more days, and no returned calls he finally gave up. Leaving me somewhat confused by the whole ordeal, but pleased w/ the akward situation.
I have no idea why I get so many calls from so many different people for so many different reasons. I am starting to wonder if I am schizophrenic. Maybe I have several alter-egos that pose as Madam Amima, Pizza Hut employess and an elderly Laotian man. It could also be that I am on some TV like the Truman Show where everyone knows what's going on but me. There is also the possiblity that I have unknowingly entered the Twilight Zone. As I serach for the meaning of all this, although the above all seem like possible answers, I am persuaded that these random phone calls and text are corraborative evidence of my long held belief that I truly am the center of the universe.
For a while there was an elder man who would call me every month or so from a 210 (San Antonio,TX) area code. Each time he called he would speak to me in what seemed to be a tonal Asian language (I am guessing Hmong, it didn't sound Chinese or Vietnamese). I tried to respond to him in Mandarin each time, hoping that he was some contact form the mission. He wouldn't respond to my ni hao's or qingwen's so then I would try to ask him in English how he got this number. From his lack of response to my English questions, I infer that he didn't speak English. So I was unable to find out how he got my number, and why he persisted in calling me month after month.
My favorite random caller happened last August. I received several calls from a man with what sounded like a Middle Eastern accent. He claimed to be from somewhere in the Arab world and for all I know he was. He had somehow mistaken me for a one "Madame Amima." (Amima may not be spelled correctly, I spelt it pout phonetically, he never spelt it out for me). Apparently, he was under the impression that my cell phone number was the number for some escort service on the East Coast.
In the first message to my voicemail he explained that someone back home had recommended the Madame's services to him and gave my number to him. The first message left me shocked at his forwardness on a voicemale that introduces itself as "Nate Reid's voicemail", but grateful for the laughs provided at his expense. However, the fun didn't stop there. I soon recieved other messages. He started calling while I was at work. He called 8 times in one day, leaving messages of the same every time. Each one expressing praise for the quality of Madame Amima's serivces (he never was explicit in what these services entailed). Finally, he called when I was able to talk to him. I tried to explain that I had no idea who this madame was nor how he found my cell number. If I figured this confrontation would stop him I was wrong. He continued to call and leave more messages. After a couple more days, and no returned calls he finally gave up. Leaving me somewhat confused by the whole ordeal, but pleased w/ the akward situation.
I have no idea why I get so many calls from so many different people for so many different reasons. I am starting to wonder if I am schizophrenic. Maybe I have several alter-egos that pose as Madam Amima, Pizza Hut employess and an elderly Laotian man. It could also be that I am on some TV like the Truman Show where everyone knows what's going on but me. There is also the possiblity that I have unknowingly entered the Twilight Zone. As I serach for the meaning of all this, although the above all seem like possible answers, I am persuaded that these random phone calls and text are corraborative evidence of my long held belief that I truly am the center of the universe.
On Gibson and Koufax
I have chosen Gibson Koufax as the name of my virtual band. The lineup consists of me, my laptop, an external hard drive and a couple of mics. I am not sure how it is going to turn out, but c'est la vie.
As for the name Gibson Koufax, its a baseball name. Or two of them to be exact. Bob Gibson was a pitcher w. the St. Louis Cardinals. In 1968 he posted a 1.12 ERA. To give a comparison of what that means the league average is usually around 4.25 these days. Sandy Koufax was the dominant pitcher of the 1960's. His curveball was the stuff of legends. From 1962 to 1966 he went 111-34 (.766 win%) w/ an ERA of 1.96.
I enjoy the old baseball stories. Baseball of all the professional sports seems most able to summon nostalgic feelings from eras long before my birth. There is a certain romantic feeling to the game. Not that this romantic feeling has any real connection to rock music (maybe more w/ jazz and speakeasys than anything else), but it is intended as an homage to a great sport.
There, I did it! I blogged about arguably the two greatest pitchers of the 1960's, and their weak connection to music recorded on my laptop.
As for the name Gibson Koufax, its a baseball name. Or two of them to be exact. Bob Gibson was a pitcher w. the St. Louis Cardinals. In 1968 he posted a 1.12 ERA. To give a comparison of what that means the league average is usually around 4.25 these days. Sandy Koufax was the dominant pitcher of the 1960's. His curveball was the stuff of legends. From 1962 to 1966 he went 111-34 (.766 win%) w/ an ERA of 1.96.
I enjoy the old baseball stories. Baseball of all the professional sports seems most able to summon nostalgic feelings from eras long before my birth. There is a certain romantic feeling to the game. Not that this romantic feeling has any real connection to rock music (maybe more w/ jazz and speakeasys than anything else), but it is intended as an homage to a great sport.
There, I did it! I blogged about arguably the two greatest pitchers of the 1960's, and their weak connection to music recorded on my laptop.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Preface to my ramblings
I figured I would write a preface to my future attempts at blogging. I enjoy writing. I enjoy expressing my ideas. I enjoy humor. However, oftentimes my humor and ideas are lost on other people. If you fall among that category who is confused, you should feel normal. If you actually get it, may heaven have mercy on your soul.
There, I said that I was going to write a preface and I did.
There, I said that I was going to write a preface and I did.
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