The life and times of Isaac Dust
Why record a cover of Jack White‘s “Why walk a dog?”
I don’t know. Why anything? Why wipe your ass? Sheesh…
(Actually, I was running an experiment to see if I could use my old BR-864 as an effects unit with my new Zoom LiveTrak L-12, and this song just came to mind, because it’s short and sweet. It worked, so I guess the null hypothesis was rejected, or something like that.)
Jimi Hendrix was born on November 27, 1942. Exactly 28 years later would be the eve of my own birth. Jimi had died two months prior, on September 18, 1970, and so we weren’t exactly “on this earth” contemporaneously. I was inside another person’s body when Jimi’s soul left his, an ocean between us. All of this signifies nothing, of course, but it’s simply my weird way of framing the following cover of May this be love, which is one of my favorite Hendrix tunes. This is the first music I’ve recorded using my new home studio set-up, and every step of the process was experimental. If there was a reason I chose this song – and there probably wasn’t a reason – it was because it’s something I can usually play from beginning to end without noticeably fucking up. Hopefully I will be inspired to keep at it and put some work into developing my own music.
I also found myself fooling around with making a video for the song, and in the process remembered that I have several videos on Vimeo. Watching them was a sentimental trip down the spiral staircase into past versions of myself, and a complex mix of emotions were pumped through interior duct work. If I recall correctly, I put the cover song videos on Vimeo because YouTube was giving me shit for copyright crimes against humanity. Given that YouTube is starting to feeling a little gross, perhaps I’ll give the ol’ Vimeo account a little action going forward.
In this episode of the Head The Gong Podcast, I reflect on my long-standing tendency to distance myself from others, both through reflexive negative judgments and through the flip-side tendency of taking myself way too seriously. I also gush about my most recent musical crush: Madison Cunningham.
Jolted awake once again at 4am, once again by the emotional intensity of a dream scene. I was standing in front of a TV glowing with static. Spontaneously, I made some sort of snorting noise as I took air in through my nasal cavity, and coincident with this bodily action an image began to form on the screen. Making the connection, I intentionally repeated the snort as I watched the screen, and lo and behold I could see the moving images coming in with increased clarity, as if I were turning the dial of an old-school antenna in an effort to find a watchable feed of Gilligan’s Island back in 1978.
The moment the inhalation of my snort transitioned to an exhale, the image would start to fade, but I quickly learned to control my breath in such a way as to keep the broadcast going as I cycled into another snort, which increased the clarity and allowed me to see what was actually being portrayed. It hit me in a flash. The scene playing out on the screen was one of my memories! Holy shit, I could see my memories on the goddamned TV screen!
I frantically called out to my wife, who was in the other room. When she arrived I went into another snort and began wildly gesticulating toward the TV screen. I was able to keep the broadcast going for a solid few seconds, long enough to be sure she would notice. I caught my breath and shouted to her, “Could you see it?!?! Did you see it?!?!”
“No! I didn’t see anything!”, she replied.
Shattered by the realization that the entire experience was a mere hallucination and delusion, I began to wail, which caused my wife to look distressed. I apologized profusely to her as I continued to cry and moan with enough intensity to send me back into the waking state.
So, yeah. Been dreamin’ and stuff.
Had to reschedule the ultrasound for my knee, as the process got caught up in the red tape of “workers’ comp.” Meanwhile my condition continues to slowly improve. Hopefully I’ll get a definitive diagnosis by the end of the week. Being disabled is a drag, especially when there is shit to be done around the house. Temperatures jumped into the 90s, so I needed to get on the roof to get the swamp coolers up and running. We had a new roof put on this winter, which required the coolers to be disassembled and reassembled, and in the process they were seriously fucked up by the roof crew. I was cursing them all to hell while doing my best to make the necessary repairs on one leg. Roof crew be damned, I eventually got the job done.
I’ve been messing around in the studio, mostly getting to know the possibilities and limitations of my new mixer/recorder. With all the hours I’ve logged on YouTube learning about things like inputs, outputs, mic placement, sub-mixes, gain staging, etc., I might be able to get a job as a sound engineer, but for the lack of actual finished recordings. I’m about ready to see what I can do with this new toy. If it sucks, I’ll just blame it on the bum knee, or those asshole roofer dudes.
A deflating end of the school year/beginning of the summer as I find myself in the all-to-familiar position of leg elevated, ice-pack wrapped around the knee. This time around I was simply making a quick little juke-move during the staff vs. 5th-graders kickball game and that’s all it took to deliver the sensation of tissue tearing. I will have to await the imaging results in order to confirm or amend the doc’s initial diagnosis of torn lateral collateral ligament. If confirmed, I will have to add LCL tear to the growing list of knee damage sustained over the past three decades or so: torn right ACL; torn meniscus (right knee); fractured tibial plateau (left); torn left ACL; torn meniscus (left).
I’ve already moved into the acceptance stage and I’m determined to head the gong this summer, no matter the physical limitations. I suppose my running goals will need to be shelved, and I will have to amend my plans to tackle some projects around the house, but I can still do calisthenics, still meditate everyday, write, play and record music, podcast, and all the rest. Gotta move forward with focus and determination.
This morning, Day One, I was up at 4am meditating. I had been jarred awake by a dream in which my wife told me she was pregnant with triplets. She assured me it would be no sweat to get an abortion, a suggestion that broke my heart, as I was feeling expansive about the prospect of rolling with this twist of fate and fully embracing the changes it would entail. In the real world, I have no intention to start a family at the age of 49, and I’m sure my wife is dead set against having kids. But damn, it was a powerful dream, and the heartbreak my dream-self felt was intense.
*
Day One is in the books. The usual Saturday chore routine (mowing the lawn; doing the laundry) took up a big chunk of time, as I was puttering around like a centenarian. But I managed to get it done, get some exercise, and fool around in the studio for a little while before running out of steam. Told my wife about the triplet-abortion dream, and she responded with raised eyebrows. Or was it furrowed eyebrows? Anyway, the eyebrows can be deceptively expressive, a kind of window dressing of the soul. And lateral collateral ligaments can be like the foundation of a building, swaying with the earthquake waves in stable synchrony, only to buckle under in a fucking kickball game with 10-year-olds!
In this episode of the Head The Gong Podcast, I make noises into microphones at the Tampa International Airport, in my bedroom studio, and looking out over my back yard.
Media referenced:
In this episode of the Head The Gong Podcast, I give thanks for being led through the fog to a moment of clarity, however fleeting, in which tears were shed and notes were sung. Someone with a sweet smile said it this way: “It is a privilege to live out these days on this lovely planet, to see it all through to the end as much ourselves as ever.”
Media referenced:
One more dream.mp3
While sipping my coffee this morning, I stumbled across this tweet by a guy named Daniel Holland (@DannyDutch):
As far as I can tell this is the creative process for most people –
1. This is brilliant
2. This is tricky
3. This is shit
4. I am shit
5. This might be ok
6. I’m now interested in the next project more than I am this one.
Painfully true, in my case. Especially that last bit about moving on to the next project, and especially with regard to musical “ideas.” I literally have hundreds of “song ideas” – by which I mean quick, in-the-moment lo-fi recordings to capture a riff, melody, or chord progression – stretching back decades. Already, this month alone, I’ve generated at least ten of these nuggets of inspiration. I can hardly keep track of them. And I can hardly keep my attention focused on one of them long enough to drag and drop the file into the archives, and certainly not long enough to actually develop the idea and record a proper song. It’s just so much easier to move on to the next thing, await the next moment of inspiration. I must get past this!
Reminds me of a video by Ransby about “Being a better creator” that I too-quickly forgot about:
I am currently in the midst of a pleasant obsession with the band Kruangbin. I stumbled upon them while tumbling down a YouTube rabbit-hole. Their style – a mostly instrumental, funky-ass psychedelic groove-based international vibe type thing – is nothing like anything I’ve been into in the past. It’s just so smooth, so groovy, that I can’t get enough of it, especially in situations when my attention is occupied, like right now, while I’m typing these lines, or when I’m cleaning up the house. Music with a dominant vocal line often robs attention and focus needed for the task at hand, while Khruangbin’s grooves flow through me on a different, more unconscious level, which enhances whatever else I’m doing. Don’t take my word for it. Dig in.
