Al Stone Recording Sessions, Day 7

Seven down, three more to go...

We tackle a ballad we wrote and demoed back in Allen’s cabin.  I’d even call it a power ballad, which is a cringe-inducing description for some, but given there’s a framed picture of Phil Collins in my house I’m predictably way into it.  I have a beating heart, after all.  

But, kinda like yesterday, the song doesn’t sound like it belongs on the record.  We all love the demo, and when a demo’s good it can be difficult letting go, but the song's anemic compared to previous hyper-confident tracks and the arrangement needs tweaking.  We start jamming, and eventually I discover a neat little three-note arpeggio line over each of the verse chords, which Swatty doubles on piano.  Now there’s an ache and a melancholy we all love, and everything falls into place pretty quickly.   Music's cool, folks.  

The existing melody and lyrics don’t work over the new instrumental, so Jamie begins guiding Allen through singer stuff and I step outside for some good ol’ fashioned off into the distance staring.  It’s cold today, and I’m underdressed in my free Lagunitas hooded sweatshirt, but I welcome a few minutes to myself and the aroma from Martin’s BBQ next door transforming me into a drooling fool. 

I’m anticipating a chill evening of Jamie manipulating synthesizers and my overdubbing a few strum-a-lum-a-ding-dong parts.  I’m already six cups of coffee deep, so I’ll be rushing.  If you’re reading this Eddie, you’re an infinitely gifted engineer and I apologize.