The roughs tell me these recordings need more work, but I'm satisfied so far with two of the three songs we started. "Glory Days" could be redone better I'm sure. I've already realized after two days of recording that I could go down the path of "Wood and Wire" and do another record in a similar fashion with the same guys. Of course that's not much of a challenge to repeat and I wouldn't count on the good luck I had last time. Besides all that, I just have new ideas for the new record. I'm trying to wean myself and my fans off the cv's super sugar pop and into something...else, whatever that is. Pop is a default setting, and it's comfortable. Maybe because it fits. Anyway, I'd rather try a few more outside ideas than to get a tattoo to prove I'm unique.
My highschool bud Ted Boone offered me a car to drive around while I'm here. So Tuesday I went to pick it up. Ted is down on the river, in the midst of the sticks, just down from where I lived as a kid. He listens to heavy metal and has a band not unlike L.A. Guns, according to Ted. I'm invited to 'jam' with them, at the pig roast July 4. Hopefully we'll get to play together before I go.
Ted's band needs a singer. They've been talking to a guy named Hollywood, who apparently can sing just like the dude from Poison. In fact, Hollywood went into a recording studio to track note-for-note cover versions of Poison songs to prove it. So Tuesday night we went to talk to him at a bar where he does sound, his girlfriend was there too. She's 18 and completely into Hollywood, the guy.
I'm listening while these guys are hashing it out in the keg room at the Wolf Inn. Ted's explaining to us that he wants to go Big Time, with guitar shaped swimming pools at million dollar houses. That's cool, whatever, I think to myself, and Hollywood wants to know if they've got the set list together.
"You guys have all those songs you gave me learned?"
"Yeah...you know," Ted says, trailing off.
"I mean, like down? Like Down down?" Hollywood asks.
"Yeah, we got 'em down, we got it together, we need a front man so's in order to really learn the songs"
Hollywood tells us that in his last band, he didn't even go to rehearsal until the band had it together, down to the last note, like a record. I asked him why his last band broke up but he didn't answer me. I was the California guy with the girl's sweater, I'm sure. Mostly I kept quiet, though.
We drove to Hollywood's house in the city of Syracuse where he broke the ice with us by rolling off a few racial slurs in reference to his neighbors. He put on his Poison covers tape, and showed us his live sound system. A dog came down to greet us, and Hollywood gave him quite a kick. We looked at Hollywood, the dog looked at him, Hollywood kicked again, and the dog ran upstairs. Nice guy. We left. We dropped off a very stoned drummer, and while we were heading back, Ted got pulled over. We're driving a car he picked up at an auction earlier that day. No taillights, no plates, drunk driver, weird dude from California with eyes closed, hoping for the best. He lets us go.
It's weird to see the house you grew up in and think that it's not home anymore. I'll get over it.
Ted takes me on a mad errand run. He shows me the trailer park he's just bought in Palermo, NY. Then we stop at a junkyard in Brewerton to track down a transmission for a Jeep. The owner is shooting the breeze behind the counter with his help, and another guy. We're there a few minutes before anyone acknowledges us, and the place is pretty small. I sit out of the way down the counter as Ted goes looking for his parts in the lot. Meanwhile a few more guys come in. One's wearing an oxygen tank, another has a lost look. I look over, and for at least fifteen seconds straight, these four men are just staring at each other, without a sound. Just then I'm thinking, great, I've been left here to spend the day with these guys. Ted comes in and the good news is I don't have to carry a greasy transmission - they don't have one. We leave with a cold six-pack to find Eric Mattice, who lives in Central Square. I haven't seen him since his last breakdown, so it was pretty shocking. I guess he's OK other than the fact that he cut his bicycle apart with a hacksaw, spent his last $20 on a model train car which he painted "Jesus" on he side, and has a painting of an "imaginary wife, someday" on his bedroom wall.