Recording at a studio has been on the top of our list for a while. We’d been looking for some sort of direction, a sign. It came one Sunday on the Plaza. We were playing out front of Warpaint Studio when Derek Knowlton, the owner, emerged. He said, “Hey man, you need a foot tambourine.” He soon brought one. Casey put it on his foot and jangled out the beat. Derek listened for a minute.
A couple days later Derek sent a text. He had a new recording studio in the basement of Warpaint, and wanted Casey to check it out. Casey responded, “How about we just record something?”
A couple days later Derek sent a text. He had a new recording studio in the basement of Warpaint, and wanted Casey to check it out. Casey responded, “How about we just record something?”
We didn’t set a date, instead spontaneously, on Friday July 26, Derek called and we were free. After a visit to a taco truck, we entered the courtyard behind Warpaint. The sun was casting a pink glow before day turned to night. Derek invited us in a door Casey had passed through many times before.
Warpaint is where Derek designs and prints his edgy artwork. It’s the place the Flaming Lips go to get their far-out rainbow uniforms and marijuana leaf logos screen-printed. We were led down a dark subterranean stairway. We crept slowly down the unfamiliar steps, crouching to avoid a low head-splitting beam. The inner-sanctum recording studio was tidy and carpeted. Many instruments and black cases surrounded us. All well organized and dust free. Gently trickling water flowed constantly through a cast-iron pipe in one corner.
Once a rehearsal space and raucous concert venue for Derek’s bands, now it was a hushed vault straight out of the subconscious. The tranquility broken only by Derek’s cat wailing miserably from time to time at the door to the outside world. Soft sounds of the Plaza street life filtered down.
Warpaint is where Derek designs and prints his edgy artwork. It’s the place the Flaming Lips go to get their far-out rainbow uniforms and marijuana leaf logos screen-printed. We were led down a dark subterranean stairway. We crept slowly down the unfamiliar steps, crouching to avoid a low head-splitting beam. The inner-sanctum recording studio was tidy and carpeted. Many instruments and black cases surrounded us. All well organized and dust free. Gently trickling water flowed constantly through a cast-iron pipe in one corner.
Once a rehearsal space and raucous concert venue for Derek’s bands, now it was a hushed vault straight out of the subconscious. The tranquility broken only by Derek’s cat wailing miserably from time to time at the door to the outside world. Soft sounds of the Plaza street life filtered down.
As Casey and Derek discussed how the recording would proceed, I sat on the floor and considered the iron security gate at the bottom of the stairs. It reminded me of the shocking story of Aerial Castro and his basement captives. Next I pictured the gate during a zombie attack, protecting us while giving us a clear view of the horror. My daydreaming was interrupted by the conversation, which had grown heated. I left my fiddle in the case, unsure whether we would be staying. After a tense debate, Derek and Casey decided the plan was to record live. Casey and I walked to the corner-store for drinks. When we came back Derek had set up three microphones. I took out my fiddle and rosined my bow.
We decided to record a Cajun murder ballad by the Red Stick Ramblers called “Les Oiseaux Vont Chanter” which translated means “The Birds Will Sing.” We didn’t know that translation at the time and called it “The Singer.” We recorded the guitar and fiddle live with three microphones. Then we over dubbed more fiddle. While layering in the percussion, the recording session became a mystic ceremony. Mixing and layering, hours passed into the mist. After Casey recorded the bass line the trance broke, and we knew it was time to stop. We emerged into the clean dark night.
A couple weeks later Derek sent us the file. We liked the way it sounded through the stereo. That night Casey made a slapdash photomontage video for the song, our first year in pictures. While listening to the song over and over, and creating the video, Casey shed a single tear because he was so happy his friend had made a recording for him, and it was good.
We decided to record a Cajun murder ballad by the Red Stick Ramblers called “Les Oiseaux Vont Chanter” which translated means “The Birds Will Sing.” We didn’t know that translation at the time and called it “The Singer.” We recorded the guitar and fiddle live with three microphones. Then we over dubbed more fiddle. While layering in the percussion, the recording session became a mystic ceremony. Mixing and layering, hours passed into the mist. After Casey recorded the bass line the trance broke, and we knew it was time to stop. We emerged into the clean dark night.
A couple weeks later Derek sent us the file. We liked the way it sounded through the stereo. That night Casey made a slapdash photomontage video for the song, our first year in pictures. While listening to the song over and over, and creating the video, Casey shed a single tear because he was so happy his friend had made a recording for him, and it was good.
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