How many yo-yo tricks do you see?
I want to thank everyone that danced freely in the streets of Cleveland!
Thursday June 23rd, 2016
On this day I really wanted to get reacquainted with the SSL Studio. I also wanted to get started with collecting some drum samples. So I go and check out the following mics: a NU87, two MXL2010’s, two Octava pencil mics, two SM57’s, and a D112. I feel I’m going to have enough time to record a song too, so I also checked out a Gibson bass guitar, a Yamaha steel-string acoustic guitar, and Les Paul electric guitar.
After a few hours of getting re-acquainted with the SSL my drums are patched into mic inputs 25-32; and I have a 2 X 1 rectangular Gobo booth with a U87 set up at lip height with me.
Pro tools is set up, and my cue send is going to the Aviom. Now I’m ready to record my drum samples.
The D112 receiver is placed in the sound hole about 2 inches facing the beater.
The MXL2010 was placed at a 45deg angle with diaphragm pointing at drum head about 6 inches away.
The SM57 is on the snare with diaphragm pointed at the drum head at 45deg angle about 3 inches away from drum head.
Another SM57 is placed the same way as on the snare at the rack tom drum head.
The hi-hat is being miked with an Octava and the diaphragm is pointing into the Hi hat cymbals about 2” away from the opening of the hats.
The other Octava is pointed at the under the outside rim of the Crash
I hit record enable in the control room on all of the Pro tools drum tracks and then I hit record on the SSL and walk into the studio. I record the Kick first. I stomp the beater at various velocities for some variation in sound. I do the same with all of the other drums, also applying mutes on the crash, and various rolls on the snares and toms. I plan to do drum replacement on the majority of the songs this year. Later I can input the drum samples into my Akai.
Luckily I still have time to record a song.
I go into my Gobo booth with my two MXL 2010’s and set the up in Blumlein formation pointed at the vanilla point of the Yamaha acoustic guitar. Blumlein setup is 4 feet from the short wall of the Gobo booth.
So I set my tempo in protools to 98bpm with tap tempo. I listen to the tempo and see if it is not going to drift into being too slow or fast while performing the song. I then record enable the guitar tracks I walk into the booth and start playing. It took about 4 takes to get some guitar I was happy with. The song I was playing is an acoustic version of Mesa Boogie.
I listened to the guitar and I liked it. So I then proceeded to record vocals for Mesa Boogie on the NU87. I got in a few takes and then I compped the vocals and then my time was up. I felt it was a Thursday well spent.
When your neighborhood needs a hero! Continue reading
After returning home to his backyard Carl knew that something had to be done. The Angels were speaking. It would be blaspheme to not do something. He took the shovel and he dug into the neighborhood with all his heart. His arms became dislocated from all of the shoveling. In his pain he thought of all of those who were in pain under the will of fiendish people. Then there was a vision accompanied by a scream that invaded his mind.
Instantly the shovel fused to his hand and yanked his dislocated shoulders back into place while pulling him straight up into the air high above the city. The vision of Saint Peter flew in front of him comforting him. Inspiring him. The blade of the shovel fused to Carl’s face as if it were a mask.
The Angel of Metal consumed and guided him in a blitz of fire through the air and down at an angle straight through a lawn and dirt into a cemented basement. After the dust and dirt and cement cleared he saw a beautiful twenty-something yr. old brown skinned woman with curly hair. She was barely clothed, and very thin.
she may be confused: instead there was a certain light in her eyes. She knew this was going to happen somehow. She knew someone would be coming for her. She was riding faith. Her body and spirit were resonating with the tone of the Angels, as the Saints consoled Her.
Ep1. A Shovel in Pleasant Place
Spring time was about and the skies were much warmer than previous weeks. The Birds chirped the new rhythms of the season down in Pleasant Place. Some people call it the hood. Carl called it home. The red brick roads were still freshly crumbled from the snows of the winter that might actually still be here. The weather is so unpredictable, unless you are writing the Farmer’s Almanac. Carl felt it would be the perfect day to get some gardening gear stored up. The frost might still be here so he thought he might start to turn over some dirt for pre-planting. The store was within walking distance right down the street. On his walk to the local convenience store Carl saw two young petite teenage girls running down the street and screaming for help. Police cars sped by in a hurry, and paid no mind to the girls.
Carl asked the teenagers what they were running and screaming for and they said, “This creepy guy was tryin’ to grab us. We don’t see him no more though. That was crazy!” They continued talking to each other down the street huffing for air.
Carl walked to the corner that the girls had just came sprinting from. He thought he might see some rough looking man there, but he saw nothing and continued on to the store. On the way over he picked a leaf off of a tree and rolled it between his fingers and sniffed them. His finger was died chlorophyll green leaf oil.
Carl wasn’t sure if they would have what he needed at the corner store, but it was the nearest place so why not try. The store had nothing for gardening except a few seeds and a pointed construction shovel. Carl thought no need to waste a trip so he bought the seeds and the shovel. When asked if he wanted a receipt he said no and put the seeds in his pocket. The shovel was slightly heavy so he adjusted his grip and held the shovel at a point closer to its center of gravity.
Carl walked out of the store. He clinked the head of the shovel on the cement. The shovel left a tiny divet in the walkway, but who would care. There was a large group of guys blocking the path he would be heading — nobody paid Carl any mind though. The air was filled with a skunky pine smell.
A plain clothed police officer drove by in a hurry and almost ran over Mrs. Beverly a matriarch of the community. A teenage boy told the cop to watch out. The officer responded by threating to arrest the teenage boy Lester by taser. Carl pulled out his phone and recorded it. Eventually the officer let Lester go after several older gentlemen asked the cop to forget about it.
Carl walked again upon the corner the petite teenage girls were running from. He wondered if the police knew or even cared about the creepy guy in the neighborhood. The shovel in his hand gave Carl a sense of invincibility. People moved out of the way as he passed by them. The head of the shovel shined, and the tip was very sharp. The shaft was sturdy. The only drawback was that the handle was plastic. This shovel was meant to dig through things with Carl and turn over the earth. Shield and spear all in one.
“I hope nobody thinks I’m taking out the garbage for a hit squad,” Carl thought to himself.
Carl returned home with his shovel and seeds. He put the seeds away in the house to be germinated, and then went to work outside.
Crunch, Crunch, Crunch, Ding, Ding, Crunch. Carl was stepping on that shovel and turning over that dirt and rock. The more he cracked rocks and turned over dirt he started to feel some sort of way about how the police could threaten to arrest a teenage boy but do nothing about the creepy grabber. He thought, “Maybe the police aren’t out here to protect our neighborhood. What are they out here for! A lot of girls have gone missing in Pleasant Place already. Something has to be done.”
Carl dug one more time and from nowhere the ground split and gave him the biggest jolt of electricity he had ever felt.
He lied there on the ground while breathing the oxidized Spring air. An opalescent figure waves and looks Carl straight in the eye, points at the shovel. Carl received the words “Let’s turn over this land.” Every square inch of Pleasant Place flashes before his eyes for the tiniest largest bit of a moment.
Carl listened to the rhythms of the birds, as he walked down the brick roads of his home town Pleasant Place with shovel in hand.