I had two amazing days (plus a get-in night) mixing
Acda en de Munnik at the legendary
ICP studios in Brussels. This is part of what's been a very fruitful collaboration with
JB Meijers, which started with his invitation to have me sing on his upcoming solo album (which I've now heard as completed and it's outtasite--hitting on elements of Todd Rundgren, Neil Young, and even Alice In Chains...in a great way). JB is a kind of Todd, he can play all the bits, work a studio from any perspective, and organize complex music into...well, whatever he wants. First, we had to contend with the fitting in of a marvelous arrangement by
Van Dyke Parks. I mean, basically JB was handing me a very big leg up, and I really didn't want to fuck it up. But how to prepare? I listened to a rough mix with a cheap keyboard rendition of the arrangement mixed in. OK. Got the basic idea...in the meantime, JB went around getting the arrangement done. I am not at liberty to drop names, but the first group of musicians, an orchestra, in fact, to take on the arrangement, basically walked out of the session saying it was unplayable. JB was unnerved--we were supposed to mix in a couple of days, but my attitude was: the last time an orchestral piece caused a riot it was Stravinksy, so we're in good company. Well, he found a way to get it done...and after discovering that they had neglected to use his click track or rough mix and recorded it at least 3-5 bpm faster than the track it was going to be on...a little editing and we were somewhat in business. I arrived, and the band, JB and I cracked some Pinot Gris and got to thinking. I told them my inspirations on the track, and they were liking what they were hearing. We made some ideas about chopping some of the arrangement out to make a kind of intro that foreshadows the upcoming full song, just a few seconds. We faked it out on the keyboard, and went to bed wondering how it would all go.
So up the next morning, and early to bed and late to bed would be the theme of these days--I swam, breakfasted and spoke on the phone about the Disciplines album to a journalist. Then it was work time. We dove in on building the intro, and I was jumping in as ProTools man, then adding the 3rd and 4th hands to big chords as we augmented some unlinked sections with some...other things. All the while we had Michel, one of ICP's longest running engineer, who worked on many of the classic albums done there, who did engineer the things we added to the track--organ, tambourine, etc....but I was cheeky enough to just jump on the computer and start digging in.
We got the intro sorted, I did some tweaking and went in sound by sound. Layer by layer. The vintage Neve console at ICP studio C is just...what you want. Enormous, rich, balanced and sturdy. Slapping vintage Altec compressors on the bass and kick drum instantly gave me a boingy, bouncy, vintage feel for the low end, and I was getting happier and happier. Still, I used the two days we had, tweaking tiny vocal sounds, tuning what I felt could be even more perfect-er, lining up doubles that could be even tighter, and of course, riding levels to give the song dynamics (guidance from the band was essential here). Morning of day two I was up for a swim again (yep, they've got a pool at this studio) and off to do interviews and back to mix, and later, did a radio interview at Pure FM, the French speaking national radio in Belgium. But, it was pretty clear by the end of night one that *I* was happy--and with the band listening the next day, they were really happy. It was a great mix of relief and pride when I got such positive feedback. I can't wait for you to hear it.
Acda en De Munnik are two guys--Thomas Acda (who is also an 'acta'--he is regularly featured in Dutch TV & cinema) and Paul de Munnik. They are described as cabaret, they seem to have done a rock opera, but everything I've heard is just well composed, duo-vocal songs...and you know from my career how I feel about harmonies-all-they-way-thru acoustic duos! I am in one, dammit. There are moments in this song that remind me of all the classics--CNSY, Cat Stevens, Seals & Crofts, even Chicago...but it's in the end this great sounding thing, thoroughly timeless and contemporary. I did the ultimate test today, and it sounded just huge on my home rig. With the extra time we had, since the mix was put to bed by 9, we zipped off a live acoustic session of me doing two Disciplines songs in the amazing studio D, with the Deutsche Gramophon Telefunken desk. ICP's mic collection is the world's sickest, most outrageous, hands down. So, everything I did would be thru some insane mic from the 40s or EARLIER. Wowowowowow. So there's a happy ending for ya.
LONDON, 7/1
Now, I thought I'd be clever and put all the stuff I needed for these few days abroad in a small bag over my shoulder, plus my computer bag, and my bass. So, I had to strap on two bags (and had taken metro to Gare du Nord this way) and carry my bass and use my free hand to present tickets and what not. JB being the kindest guy on the big blue marble, drove me to the train station...I had some hairy minutes when the UK Immigration at Brussels Midi didn't know what to make of my new fangled work permit--the system had changed recently, but I got on at the last minute. Ouch. Slept all the way. Got to London and navigated with my stuff to the Tube and to my hotel, the Columbia, where I've spent MANY nights. I love it there...then the work began. The passes weren't there. And the night before I had received an email changing all the set times and cutting our set down to 30 minutes. Hmmm. That's a very expensive 30 minutes, I thought. But the promoter rang me to sort out all the shortcomings...passes arrived, but not enough of them--but they were happy to have more names at the will call. Um, didn't you guys tell me over and over that would be impossible? Same with the parking pass that was in the envelope...well, I'm not complaining. But, it would have been cool to have the real dirt in advance...but, I think they were kinda making it up. This whole minifest was made up, to squeeze in some action between a metal fest and Blur's big reunion shows in Hyde Park. Anyway, they were trying to do right and I sent as many sms and texts to everyone as I could to keep them informed. In the end, it all worked. We were interviewed by MOJO. Nice, eh? Now, the walk to the site, in 85 deg. heat, was longer than it said on the map and longer than it looked. And Alex was very skeptical about getting on the golf carts that came to snatch us. But we got there. However, when we arrived, I was the idiot--I had forgotten my earplugs. Back in the golf cart, to the edge of the park, and then running-in boots-in 85 degree heat--200+ yards each way to get them. I did get to do a drive by on Blur's soundcheck on the way back, but I can tell you, I was dyin. Just thinking about it makes me want to drink water. Hold on.
OK, *now* I'm rehydrated. Next up, my cable died at soundcheck. But our man, Colin Price, who tours with Iron Maiden mind you, had me sorted out quicklike, and there was a music shop set up on site. We were pretty relaxed about soundcheck, and when they told us we had five minutes left we were already happy, so only
Terry Edwards from the Tindersticks (and much more...he has a MASSIVE CV) and the rest of the crew had the distinct pleasure of watching Alex lead us thru 'Start me Up' and 'Happy' by the Stones...I'll let you roll on that one for awhile.
Now, dinner wasn't starting til 6.30 and we were on at 7 and we all needed something. So we were at catering at 6.28 when it opened, and they served us. I tried my best to be sensible, with some grilled chicken on a caesar mix with no egg or potato that was offered, and an extra anchovy or two. It was light, mostly protein and a little bit of greenery. I felt fine, but after the show, my stomach was bummed that I'd eaten then rocked out in a tent in summer heat 30 minutes later. It calmed down but more on that later. The show...well, you know, I was just better than ever. I learned to tune my bass to the band, the guitars were having trouble in the heat, and played with this reggae light tap and it worked totally. No bum notes. I was just hitting the groove and you know what, I think all the playing and experience I have been cramming in for the last 25 plus years in music might actually be adding some instinct and feel to my kit. At last. The tent was mercilessly empty when we started, but it filled up in like 1.5 songs, and all was good.
So it was done! I paid the bills, and just zoned out on it. Watched some Tindersticks, and rested in the shade. Had the horrible wine that was ours to 'enjoy'. Lots of water. And then suddenly it was over...I had just zoned out in my chair and it was all over. Time to head over to the Columbia. My bass had been dropped off by Colin's car when he hit the road, so I just had one light bag. As I walked under a big light in the dark, an enormous moth landed at my feet. I picked it up, and it walked on my hand, and took off again. It was at least 4 inches wide.
Back at the Columbia, Alex had his table, and I had mine, more or less! We were holding it down pretty well. I had Henrik, and two of
the Wellingtons, and a posse built around that. Alex had Ian Johnsen, our old pal, on his team. A table of concession carnies were in between. Insufferable wine once again. I was droopy dog in no time. Off to bed.
The next day I was up for breakfast, which was nothing to sneeze at, ah, erm. Check out at 11.30 sharp no exceptions. Ok. Stowed my bag away and took my computer bag and found a little netcafe near the hotel ate lunch and netted away. Then I went back to the Columbia, grabbed my bag and bass, walked to the Tube, and with one change I was at St. Pancras (not the most beautiful names that have traveled down in history to us IMHO) and had time to chill and do more (free) netting, buy a Cadbury Egg for my daughter, and board the train to Paris.
Now, I was pretty tired, and unsettled slightly. British food? Much more often the cause of problems than solutions. I did my best to get down a sandwich and a tea but it was not *on*. I fell asleep. I woke up in France. And I felt truly weird. Stomach jumbling, headache, and gooseskin coming up all over. I called Dom and told her my symptoms. She started to prepare for the worst, but in the meantime I was to be quarantined--no kisses, no hugs. Wipe down all the surfaces I touched on the way in with disinfectant. This was all just in case it was a nasty flu--which I was showing all the symptoms for. Mostly, I was just crashing. By the time we got to Gare du Nord I couldn't face the metro. I got in line for a cab. A huge, colorfully dressed, imposing black man was having a serious throw down with the front cab, with a driver that looked like Alan Greenspan. Somehow, the thwarted passenger exercised restraint and with a few pride saving fuck you's was off. The cue moved forward. I was about to wilt. I could barely keep my eyes open, or stand up. I have a feeling the guy behind me walked into my bass case and it knocked his cell phone into pavement shards. Ooops. But maybe it wasn't me. Anyway, I was in a trance, the whole world was happening to someone else. I managed to get up stairs, somehow...and went straight to bed. Aden was prepped so she told me---no kisses, no touching! Eventually Dom was home from work, and the doctor came, and he said it appeared to be a double ear infection--which was weird because that's usually very painful. Not flu. So, no guys in white hazmat suits. I had just enough strength to cancel all my appointments for the next day, and I fell asleep.
In the morning, Friday morning...agony. My back had reacted to all the stress of the bags and the stress of my Big Star day's minor chaos, and running in hot weather, and god knows what else. I couldn't lay, I couldn't sit, I couldn't stand. The fever was better but the back thing...like new bone had grown in my shoulder where a bone should
know better. Muscle relaxants, pain killers, antibiotics...I was on a real cocktail. However, by nighttime, I was feeling a *little* better. I spent the day definitely not lucid. But at about ten that night I was declared safe and we all couched together and watched 'L'Armee des Ombres' the 60's masterpiece following the French Resistance in WWII, directed by short-lived autuer
Jean-Pierre Melville. It only came to American screens 3 years ago--NY Times, Newsweek, LA Weekly, etc called it the best foreign film of the year. Can't recommend it highly enough.
Today the girls went off on family business, and I stayed behind to recoup, not transmit (just in case), and i caught up on stuff--hours of Disciplines related accounting, mixing my radio session from ICP, doing interveiws, a podcast, lyrical pronunciation for the Sad Knights, you name it. I added a few things to the Robert Wilcox stack of tracks at his request...and now this.
I'm feeling *way* better, I think it wise to follow this quick recovery up with some sleep. Oh, pills first...
Love
KS
Paris
