mr dave

It’s not the first time I try setting myself up with goals that have built in backdoors. There’s never any real risk aside from bruising my pride and shaming my ego. I’ve become so rusty over the last few years that while I can still play bits and pieces of things playing anything more substantial is significantly messy. The lack of chops and practice is something I’ve been aware of for a while but in denial. They do come back in time, but what happens when the only spark is a fake one? Do you keep lying to yourself hoping it turns to truth?

I remember a thread being started years ago on another forum about an older guy wondering about the loss of his spark. At the time it seemed like a foolish impossibility to me, this guy was obviously a sham, not a real musician, otherwise that spark and desire would still be there. It’s not.

Is the thrill really gone? Is it time to turn out the lights now that the music is over?

Sometime during the last two weeks I stumbled upon this particular clip on youtube; it’s 4 hours long so click it at your own risk.



It’s all sorts of behind the scenes stuff and uncut interview footage with Faith No More during the recording of Angel Dust in early January 1992. Jim Martin’s interview is particularly painful. At some point during Billy and Roddy’s interview they discuss that spark and how they hope it never leaves them. With Jim’s it seems as though he’s trying to hold the spark to a particular point. Still complaining about how ‘disco’ ruined good music… in 1992.

Urban’s recent comment about me and Soundgarden had me wondering if I’d become a stagnant stick in the mud as well. To an extent I am, the early 2000s is when I started denying the loss of an interest in finding new music to myself. That timeframe also coincides with my choice to push my personal attitudes and direction onto my bandmates and forcing improvisation, even when certain elements started becoming common and recognizable. The fact is I just don’t care to find new stuff anymore, if it just happens, great; if not, I’ve still got lots – I’m just not going out of my way to dig anymore. I think a lot of it stems from the same kind of dynamic as the loss of my spark. It’s like trying to maintain a sense of awe when not only do you know how the magic trick happens, but it’s not even trying to be hidden anymore.

In that sense of exposure I’m going to start documenting the thought process going through the rebuilding of that jam track. I remember my father telling me anecdotes about their band getting signed and some of the early process of getting their first album recorded. A couple of the guys essentially had a jam house in the middle of Toronto where the other guys would spend the majority of their time. Once the contracts had been signed and things were afoot for the album the label sent a bunch of people to the house to make arrangements for the studio; and arrangements they made. There was apparently one older woman, all very prim and proper amidst the mess of dirty hippies and suits, and while the band ran through their set she just sat there and wrote non-stop in some book journal looking thing. When they got to the studio they found out that she had actually been transcribing every single part for every instrument while the band was performing. Everything was documented and arranged to maximize the efficiency of the studio time.

I don’t need to maximize efficiency; there are no deadlines only attention spans. But I’m still cutting this short this week, today has been non-stop randomness and I’m hungry. Next time, if I can do my regular Sunday morning veg out and drink coffee / type, I’ll be documenting the deconstruction and reconstruction of that bass line.

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i am the universe