Ear Splitting

I’m going into the studio today. I’ll be on cymbal detail. The plan is to turn down the cymbals on two songs. Some of the cymbals are ear-splitting. It’s a small detail, but I’m just thinking about my audience. I don’t want anybody wearing headphones to lose their hearing with the sound of crashing cymbals. Maybe some day as a practical joke I’ll release a song that appears normal on every level, until, unexpectedly, a deafening cymbal crash descends upon the listener and jolts them from the doldrums of everyday living.

            I imagine somebody walking down the street with a cool look on their face, then suddenly stopping to yank off their headphones and saying, “damn!”  

Nasty Bitch

I was talking to Bill the smog guru when his cell phone rang. He gets a lot of phone calls during the coarse of the day. People call for information regarding smog test, and ask him repair questions for their vehicles. Bill will answer the phone but on rare occasions. If someone calls and doesn’t meet his high standards, or expectations, he’ll give the caller a label on his cell phone. He’ll type in something to the effect of “El Grand Stupido,” or if it’s a lady “Nasty Bitch,” if she tries to push her weight around.

            We’ll be sitting there talking about Fairport Convention, or about the time Bill saw Jimi Hendrix at the Hollywood Bowl when Bill’s phone will start to ring. He’ll pull it out of his shirt pocket and take a quick look at the caller ID to see who’s calling. “El Stupido Maximo,” He’ll stick the phone back in his pocket, until the phone rings again. He'll look at the caller ID, “Nasty Bitch #19.”