Song #30: As Hot in the Dark (1981)

Just in time for Halloween, here is a song from the dead!*

I am an admitted wimp when it comes to scary movies or haunted houses, but when Damon Leigh brought me lyrics he had created about Peter Sellers speaking from the grave, I was all in.
I love to laugh, and although Damon and I may not share political beliefs, we still share deep appreciation for a good joke, British humor, and the actor/writer/musician Peter Sellers.

Perhaps, if congress would share one amazing laugh, our country could get along better?

Damon is a true wordsmith, and a real poet; the lyrics for this song work even spoken aloud around a campfire on a fall evening. I look forward to someday fulfilling my promise to him to develop the Broadway musical we started years ago.

And if anything, Tenacious D should definitely cover "As Hot in the Dark".

In the meantime, I hear Billy Joel needs a lyricist, so if anyone out there knows Billy, please pass Damon's information on to him.

As Hot in the Dark

I've been dying to meet you

But your lines have been tied

Help me breech this disconnection

From the other side

'Cause I finally made it

Where I grow my own grass

The last scene I played it

Was six handles and brass

No I could not take the monkey

Had to leave it all behind

Where I left the silver legend

Here to flicker on your mind

I'm a rolling Moviola

Lick** the switch and hit the spark

Stop believing that it's over

I'm as hot in the dark

I put on all your faces

And I pulled off my pants

In some celluloid aces

That I laid down to chance

Now I'm digging in the garden

But I had to get back

To tell you if you're wondering

I'm still alright Jack

No I could not take the monkey

Had to leave it all behind

Where I left the silver legend

Here to flicker on your mind

I'm a rolling Moviola

Lick the switch and hit the spark

Stop believing that it's over

I'm as hot in the dark

I was the first or so she said

No not the last in Lolita's bed

I made a stranger love instead

Showing my life I played the game

Knowing the price you can pay for fame

Britt Bacon: piano, electric piano, vocals

Teddy Zambetti: drums, bgs

Alan Morse: guitars, bgs

Scott Monahan: organ, bgs

Dean Groves: bass

Written by Britt Bacon and Damon Leigh
©1981

Source: 22 tracks Ampex audio tape 30 ips +3, baked, transferred (192k), and remixed  (no auto tune).

The most hellish/scariest part is that the mix could still be better...

Happy Halloween!

*As I read the Wikipedia entry for Mr. Sellers, it gives me goosebumps realizing that he was two years younger than I am now when he died. 

** Damon's original lyrics said "click", but for some reason I sang "lick". Chalk it up to my impetuous youth.

Song #29: Make It Good (1983)

Early on, attempting to push popular music boundaries, and always "working without a net", Ira Ingber and I made a strict pact to write NO LOVE SONGS.

This song is the closest we came to violating that pact. Using one of our favorite "Twilight Zone" episodes, "It's a Good Life" as the inspiration, we crafted a "love story" where one partner does whatever it takes to keep the other partner happy.

In 1983, the Linn Drum Machine was a ubiquitous device in most recording studios. It was the first commercially available drum machine to feature well-recorded samples of actual drums. 

It did not show up late or hung-over, and didn't complain when you wanted to try (yet) another take.

The sounds could be altered in pitch, or be altered completely by physically replacing the chips that produced each sound (some Linn's had John Bonham bass and snare drum samples). 

Attempting to give some human feel to this new robot drummer, we altered the drum machine's sound by feeding it into the speakers of the main recording room, and recording the resulting sound.

Make it Good

What's your pleasure

I'm your treasure

Shall we dance in the rain

Change the landscape

Plan our best escape

We'll take the midnight train

You are here this is true

And this is good

We're alive you and I this is real

Now that is good

You can think any single thought

But make it good make it good make it good

We can make love any way you want

But make it good make it very good

I can feel you

As I touch you

Please don't be afraid

Slow my blood flow

Funny how the time goes

In locked embrace

You are here this is true

And this is good

We're alive you and I this is real

Now that is good

You can do anything you want

But make it good make it good make it good

We can make love any way you want

But make it good make it good make it good

We can be anything we're not

But make it good make it very good

We can make love any way we want

But make it good make it very good

Britt Bacon: vocals

Ira Ingber: guitars, bass, drum programming, bgs

Katy Moffatt: bgs

Mark Morgan: keyboard

Written by Britt Bacon and Ira Ingber 

©1983

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips

Song #28: Ode for Ali-Baba (1989)

In 1990, Teddy and I got a band together to take our songs out of the studio, and into the real (live) world. In those days (before the Internet), we (Ted) had to go to a printshop to have flyers printed up announcing an upcoming gig, add addresses and postage to the flyers (Ted), mail the flyers (maybe me?), make a lot of phone calls (definitely Ted), and then hope that somebody would show up (both of us). 

And after all that, the audience was usually comprised of a few club regulars, band member's significant others, and maybe a die-hard friend or two. It was frustrating, but a chance to play our songs (without having to "pay to play"), and the general endorphin rush of live performance outweighed the downsides of gigging in Los Angeles.

When we scored a chance to play at "Molly Malone's" on Fairfax, we were definitely psyched. The club had a reputation for a good sound system, and an appreciative music crowd.

The night before the gig we had an amazing rehearsal; the band was really getting "tight". 

After rehearsal I realized my voice was shot. I could barely speak, but I figured I'd be fine in the morning.

Nope.

I didn't want to cancel at such short notice, as this would jeopardize our standing with the club and could damage the morale of the band, and so, with much personal trepidation and silent prayers, we took the stage when the club's MC announced "Eckey Thump!".

My wife, Sara, had brought our then one-year-old daughter Eleanore to the club that night to watch us perform. Unfortunately, the strict "21 and over only" policy forced Sara to stand just outside the door holding our baby girl.

"The show must go on" is a great motivational phrase, but the reality of being a lead singer with a broken voice was destroying my confidence, and half way through the set I was at the point of walking off the stage.

As we began the ballad "Ode for Ali-Baba", I was thankful that the band's accompaniment was sparse, and I wouldn't have push too hard to be heard. I was still quite miserable as I soldiered on through the song, and was grateful for the chance to rest during the twelve bar instrumental bridge before the last verse and chorus.

And then, in the short dramatic silence before the last verse, I heard a magical word from the back of the room: "Daddy!". Eleanore had taken advantage of the brief quiet to vocalize one of the few words she knew. The crowd laughed, and my tension, and personal torments immediately left the building. Everything was in perspective, and I finished the set feeling a lot better. I apologized to my bandmates and the crowd, thanked the couple of friends who showed up, inhaled a beer, and went home with my young family.

Later on, I remember sitting in the office of a record company executive with Teddy, as she told us how much she loved this song, and how it was a hit, but how she couldn't sign us based on one single.

Much later on (last month), when my now grown-up baby girl asked me when I was planning to post this song to the blog ("because I really like it"), I felt a flush of pride, shrugged noncommittally, and thought "August 15th... on your 25th birthday". 

Happy birthday Eleanore! You are my platinum record.

Ode for Ali-Baba

We danced to Bojangles' song

We danced to it all night long

And when the music was over

I stood all alone in the ballroom withdrawn

Her dress full and flowing fades

As we float across yesterdays

Her eyes brown and glowing

As we stare at the end of a New Orleans parade

The crowd's all around

and they gaze and they sigh

They'll never know it's time

Sing the ode for Ali-Baba has to say goodbye

Had I kept him from cutting in

We'd waltz time and time again

In three-quarter time your step inside mine

How was I so blind

I miss you Ali-Baba so

I miss you deep in my soul

I think of you so true it hurts inside me too

And now we'll never grow old

The crowd's all around

and they gaze and they sigh

They'll never know it's time

Sing the ode for Ali-Baba has to say goodbye

And I can't find the reason why

And it just isn't fair that my

My dance in New York City should end in despair

And such passion should die

Well the songs in my memory

And the ballroom will always be

Like your touch on my shoulder as I lead as I croon

Your life's inside of me

Chad Stuart: arranged and conducted the beautiful string arrangement, and played the piano and electric bass

Britt Bacon: vocals, keyboards

Teddy Zambetti: drums

???: string section

Written by Britt Bacon and Teddy Zambetti

©1989

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips

Song #27: Wailing Wall (1988) + BONUS LIVE VIDEO VERSION

Before setting out on the path of revenge, first dig two graves.
-Chinese proverb

The conflict in the Middle East has been raging for as long as I can remember, and certainly hasn't changed much since 1988 when Teddy and I wrote this song. The cycle of violence and counter-violence continues to this day, and our thoughts and prayers continue to go out to the people of this troubled region.

Wailing Wall

deep in the hull of a gypsy plane

aloft in the mind of an airborne crane

onto Babylon

there's some Shiite to my right

on my left there's a man in flight

he just babbles on

meet my connection in Istanbul

where a two engine prop lays me down

to Jerusalem's soul

this ain't Berlin or the great great wall

but where prayers are answered

and I hear the call

I want to see what I believe

walking and a wailing

I want to be where I can feel

walking on a wailing wall

kneeling down three inches away

mumbling words I can't seem to say

it's the price you pay

make a wish and just jot it down

scroll it all up and consider it done

on a Saturday

I left my home my wife my son

searching for answers that might give 

of what's been going on

this ain't Berlin or the other one

but where prayers are answered

and I'm not just here for fun

I want to see what I believe

walking and a wailing

I want to be where I can see

walking on a wailing wall

all alone on this pilgrimage

walking and a wailing

on the verge of a single edge

walking on the wailing wall

that's all

the air is filled with a shofar sound

bringing together the lost and found

i hope it's not too late

divvy the world up in old and new

translate the words from Muslim to Jew 

at the mercy gate

I fought and lost my own six day war

liberated from the inner claw

on a see-saw

pull out the bench lay down the cards

it's time to head home

where ever you are in the end

Britt Bacon: vocals, piano

Alan Morse: guitars, bgs

Teddy Zambetti: drums, bgs

Ritt Henn: bass

Written by Britt Bacon and Teddy Zambetti

©1988

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips

BONUS! 

Here is a live version from 1991. This was the opening song of our set.

Britt Bacon: vocals, guitar

Richy Stano: guitar

Teddy Zambetti: drums

Rick Geragi: percussion

Michael Parnell: bass

Michael Lington: sax

Helena Buscema: bgs

video filmed by Sara Bacon

Song #26: Card Fever Strikes (1983) + BONUS TRACK

The sound you hear at the very beginning of this song is a manual credit card imprint machine.
Until about 20 years ago, this machine was commonly used by vendors when you "paid" for something with a credit card.

I recorded it using my Sony Walkman. 
I remember asking a gas station attendant if I could record the sound of the machine, and he kindly complied; "Like this?",  he said. I said, "uh huh".

Time flies even if you're not having fun.  All this seems like it just happened yesterday.

But don't worry kids; in the not too distant future we'll be embarrassed at how crappy our iPhone 5s' were, and reminisce about how we used to drive cars.

One thing that won't go out of style is debt; PIN numbers will just be replaced by DNA markers.

Card Fever Strikes

I was the first one on my block

They said I was worth a million

I got a plastic piece of the rock

The postman said "spend the money"

I'll spend the money

I'm just a normal kind of guy

And there were some things I needed

I bought a Vett to catch her eye

And I'm starting to get conceited

Card fever strikes

Sign your name and you're good as gold

Card fever strikes

Push the limit 'til there's nothing you don't own

Card fever strikes

We flew to lunch in Barbados

And ordered Jamaican bananas

Then caught a late show back on the coast

Next day déjeuner in Atlanta

Card fever strikes

Sign your name and you're good as gold

Card fever strikes

Push the limit 'til there's nothing you don't own

Card fever strikes

Use the phone and you won't leave home

Card fever strikes  

Air card

Rent a card

Gas card

Eat card

Store card

Hotel card

Bank card

Phone card

"Excuse me sir

But I've got to check and see if you card is lost stolen or invalid"

Now I'm on everybody's list

I guess I'm a shinning example

They'll sell me anything I've missed

And there's never a charge for a sample

Britt Bacon: vocals
Ira Ingber: guitars, bass, bgs
Mark Morgan: synths
Pat Mastelotto: drums
Danny Jacob: bgs, guitar
Amy Smith: voiceover

Written by Britt Bacon and Ira Ingber
© 1983

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips


BONUS TRACK!

I came home last year to hear a strange message on my voice-mail, and I couldn't resist putting it to music...

© 2012

Song #25: The World Keeps Turning (1987)

I grew up in Los Angeles, California, and still live here. Having traveled the world I know there are some amazing places to live on this earth, but all things considered, outside of the occasional earthquake and the traffic (which totally sucks), L.A.'s a pretty cool place. And, as Steve Martin said in one of my favorite movies, "there are some buildings here over twenty years old".

This city is constantly changing.

It's strange sometimes driving down a street I haven't negotiated for a while, to see a landmark building from my youth razed to become a strip mall. I picture the ghost of my younger self wandering around the CVS pharmacy that's now on the corner of La Cienega and Santa Monica, saying, "what happened to the roller disco?".

Today is my birthday, so unfortunately I have missed the self-imposed deadline to finish this blog before I turn 56. Oh well. Life goes on, and I should be able to post the remaining 20 songs before I turn 57.
Unless there's another earthquake.

The World Keeps Turning

I could sink or swim

It sure wouldn't bother you

Is it tonic or gin

Your eyes wouldn't give a clue

In this world where the choices are few

In this world you kiss your own blacks and blues

I could scream I could shout it at you

But it won't make a difference

It don't make a difference to you

I could leave or stay

You could live with it either way

If the world is a play

Well then what did the director say

In this world you're living in a zoo

In this world you're nobody's fool

I could scream I could shout it at you

But it won't make a difference

It don't make a difference to you

The world keeps turning

Needless to say

You exist you exhaust

Well egocentricity

Is it Sartre or Marx

Existentuality what does that mean

In this world we decide between two

In this world you're a jester or fool

I could scream I could shout it at you

But it won't make a difference

It don't make a difference to you

The world keeps turning

Needless to say

I know about humanity

But you want it your way

The debt grows

And there's a price to pay

Give and take must be the key

But you want it your way

The time has come
And things can't stay the same

Britt Bacon: piano, synth, vocal

Teddy Zambetti: drums, BGs
Richy Stano: guitars

Alan Morse: guitars, BGs

Ritt Henn: bass

Written by Britt Bacon and Teddy Zambetti
© 1987

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips

Song #24: Sin It Away (1985)

This is the first song Teddy Zambetti and I wrote, and it established the template for the songs we would create together in the future.

We actually "wrote together". Teddy supplied a snippet of a chord progression, and I fleshed it out on piano while he accompanied on drums. At some point I started singing a melody with whatever words came out (mostly nonsense) whilst recording the proceedings on my Sony Walkman.
Teddy took the tape home, and the next time we met, he had lyrics. He told me that he wrote down "what it sounded like I was singing". 

Being the good New York Italian-American boy he was, Teddy went to Catholic schools all the way through Georgetown University.
My parents, escaping their rigid Episcopalian Ohioan upbringing, brought me up with Zen Buddhism, and Unitarianism. When I was nine years old, and my best friend Tommy Aiani told me I was going to hell, I spent about a week freaking out, (even going so far as to attend a Sunday School class) before realizing that if God was going to be that mean to a nine-year-old, I didn't want any part of it.

Teddy and I talked about everything including sex and politics, but never about religion. This could have been an unspoken  "don't ask don't tell" kind of policy, but I think we understood that personal spiritual stuff was just that: personal.
When Teddy presented the lyrics for this song I was gobsmacked. Pretty heady stuff.

In Song #19 I wrote about my friend Eckart.
One evening, as we were figuring out the world in front of the fireplace of the Lake Sherwood house we shared, Eckart said something that rang true with me:
"Jesus already died for our sins. We don't have to kill ourselves anymore."

This made good sense, and I felt safe. Perhaps I wouldn't be going to hell after all.

I've often heard other writers tell of "being visited by the muse", and from personal experience I know writing can feel like a divine intervention ("where did that come from?"), but for the most part it's just hard work. It would be fun to say that Teddy transcribed the lyrics I "channeled", but I'd rather leave that job to my remarkable sister.

Sin It Away

You say that you don't love me

I don't believe it true

You say you're gonna prove it

Now look what you go and do

The angels from on heaven

Won't save you from your plight

Pray with all your might

Worship your favorite icon

Drink the milk of the sacred cow

While the turmoil of existence

Needs answered the question "how"

And the damage you inflict on you

Are the wounds that never bled

These actions that can only say

What we have never said

Sin it away

Sin it away from you

Well sin it away

Sin it a way you do

Now sin it away

Sin it away from you

It's all that you have to do

The lessons that they taught you

What your Momma felt inside

What your parents called religion

What your Poppa claims is pride

Through the trials and tribulations

You can't be taught in Sunday School

How your heart was broke in two

So you seek to find redemption

Find a hole to crawl and hide

Let your soul fall to temptation

Try to mask the hurt inside

Through the world of good and evil

Black and white begins to grey

Through the one night stands

And do drop ins

The memories will fade

From the dawn of man and woman

People sinned their hurts away

From the moment that you said goodbye

You chose to go that way

I offer sanctuary from indecision within you

You choose

You can pay for meditation

Or come sit right down next to me

Til the holy war subsides

And our crusade has come to be

And the sermon that I preach

Don't make me holier than you

Cause your method is my madness

Yes I have been out there too

Britt Bacon: piano, synth, vocal

Teddy Zambetti: drums, bgs

Alan Morse: guitar, bgs

Ritt Henn: bass

Written by Britt Bacon and Teddy Zambetti

© 1985

Song #23: Calling Out to Juliette (1988)

In the days before Pro Tools or GarageBand, having access to a multi-track recording studio was a luxury few musicians had.
Owning a studio gave me access, but paying clients always came first, so I recorded during "off" hours (usually late at night), and rarely had the luxury of perfecting a performance or a mix. The recordings of songs on this blog were as good as we could get them given the time allotted, or as we used to say: "close enough for rock and roll".
To many musicians, the benchmark for great rock an roll recordings was the Beatles first album, which was recorded in one long day at EMI studios. The band was very "tight" having spent many nights performing live at the Cavern Club, so when it came time to record George Martin recalled, "It was a straightforward performance of their stage repertoire — a broadcast, more or less."

I attempted to replicate this method of recording, with a new line-up of the band "Eckey Thump" Teddy and I assembled in 1990. We rehearsed religiously, and played gigs around Los Angeles until we had achieved a level of tightness that I felt would qualify us to record "Beatles style".

At the same time I was winding down my partnership at the studio, and our Neve V series console was going to be "returned" to Siemens, so I "booked" the band for a full day of recording.

The resulting tracks from this session are mostly live and in the spirit of "what would the Beatles do?" or WWBD?

In the spirit of transparency, the recording of this song is actually a blend of two versions we recorded; an earlier version with french horn, and the mostly live WWBD version.

Teddy Zambetti's lyrics were often about love; requited, unrequited, obsessive, and in retrospect quite precocious: this song evokes a divorce with children, and Teddy wasn't even married...

Being in a band is like being in a polygamous marriage (but without the sex), and breaking up is hard to do. When we dissolved Eckey Thump in the early 90's, I was as sad as after a good love relationship gone bad.

Calling Out to Juliette

You told me I was lying 

'bout my thoughts of you

You're reading the writing 

Between the lines of the truth

The singing and the sighing 

Pulled our hearts in tune

The feeding and the fighting 

Ripping those memories in two

The seasons are hiding

The rain falling between the leaves

The echo so blinding

Calling out to Juliette

The children are growing 

Without knowing you

Their questions unfolding 

Daddy how come how soon

If I told you of my findings 

Would I break the rules

You're stubborn as a diamond

Cutting the glass I see through

The seasons are hiding

The rain falling between the leaves

The echo so blinding

Calling out to Juliette

In a lullaby

I can close my eyes

And the sleep will come

Until the morning sun

In a lullaby

I could sing my lines

In a lullaby

I can sing to a distant hum

Your mother and your father

Broke the news to me

You're living with another

Somebody set me free

The seasons are hiding

The rain falling between the leaves

The echo so blinding

Calling out to Juliette

Britt Bacon: vocals

Helena Buscema: bgs

Teddy Zambetti: drums

Michael Parnell: bass

Richy Stano: guitars

Michael Lington: sax

Written by Britt Bacon and Teddy Zambetti

©1988

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips

Song #22: The Soul of a New Machine (1982)

In 1967 I was 10 years old, and  there was a cool television show called "The 21st Century", hosted by Walter Cronkite.

I couldn't wait until the year 2000...

Flying cars, lasers, and computers!

At my (public) middle school, "Patrick Henry Jr. High", we were lucky enough to have a Computer Lab equipped with some first generation calculators, and a Teletype Model 33 ASR teleprinter keyboard with punched tape reader and punch. We wrote programs using the BASIC programming language, and literally fed them into the Model 33 where it communicated with a mainframe computer off campus, and we waited for the results to return.

In 1982, Ira Ingber and I read "The Soul of a New Machine", by Tracy Kidder, and were inspired by this true story of the new computer pioneers. Their work resonated with our work as we toiled for hours in the darkness of the recording studio, and experimented with the new ways of music production using the MIDI protocol, and synthesizers.

One musician who was on the leading edge of these techniques was Paul Delph, and we were blessed with his sonic contributions to many of our songs. All the sounds (including drums) you hear on this track were created by Paul, except for the usual blazing guitars of Mr. Ira Ingber.

Ira and used to halfheartedly joke that in the future, we would be able to record an album on a watch.

Thirty-one years later the technological contributions of countless pioneers have brought some amazing benefits to our lives; I am writing this blog on my back porch with an iPad2, and the iPhone 5S can run 64 tracks of GarageBand.

But dammit: where's my flying car?

The Soul of a New Machine

You've got the data all behind you

You took the phone apart when you were just a child

And now all the lessons have been learned

And your imagination runs wild

Stuck in a windowless pit with the micro-kids

In silent darkness invented codes reveal

Secret veins of distance and time

And your imagination runs wild

The moon controls the tides

Synchronized program at the core of memory

The moon controls the tides

What controls the logic in the soul of a new machine

Even the experts stare in wonder

Is this mechanism corporeal

It has the human touch concealed

Cause your imagination ran wild

The moon controls the tides

Synchronized program at the core of memory

The moon controls the tides

What controls the logic in the soul of a new machine

I can't stop I can't sleep

I can't taste the food that I eat

Alone with my madness

Just like a man in love

Britt Bacon: vocals

Ira Ingber: guitars, bgs

Paul Delph: Prophet 10 keyboard

Written by Britt Bacon and Ira Ingber

©1982

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips

Song #21: Don't Stop Me Now (1980)

This is last of the songs from my "burn in" time at Skyline Recording. We had allocated three days to test the newly installed equipment at the studio, by recording five songs I wrote with Damon Leigh.
Day one was devoted to recording the basic rhythm section (tracking), day two was for overdubs and vocals, and day three was for the final mix.
I wasn't confident skilled enough to engineer and produce myself while trying to perform with the band, so a prominent engineer/producer had been recommended to me.

He definitely had the credentials, and seemed amiable enough when we first met before the sessions, but the three days we spent working together were a stereotypical rock and roll nightmare.
O.K. during the daylight hours, but in the evenings, fueled by drinks and drugs, he became a monster.

I chalked it up to a life lesson, not realizing at the time that the music business was full of monsters, and maybe I was to become one too...

Time has a way of giving healing and perspective to life, and this is especially true when it comes to creations of art. The "monster" engineer/producer cleaned up his act and has a successful career, and what seemed to me at the time to be a simple passionate love song, now sounds (through a Tarentino lens), kind of "date-rapey".

Still, I still love this song. Damon's beautiful lyrics portray a more innocent time without cynicism or skepticism or scrutiny. A time when you would profess your love and passion in a song without hoping it would be re-Tweeted or posted on Reddit.

Don't Stop Me Now

After the party you came up to my room

No need to plead innocent

You lit a fire and I sang you this tune

Isn't that how it went

Juiced and seduced by the look in your eyes

Just take me as you are

Don't stop me now where there's no compromise

This time you've gone too far

No don't stop me now

Now that I've found you

There's nothing to lose

And no way around it 

No don't stop me now

Fly by the light until night is gone

Come on

Just let it go

And forget your implication there

Here for an hour or two

Don't give me reasons that I won't understand

Give me you

It's all I can say

You know what I've needed

And if you will stay

You'll come to believe it

So don't stop me now

Now that I've found you

There's nothing to lose

And no way around it

No don't stop me now

Britt Bacon: vocals, piano

Teddy Zambetti: drums

Dean Groves: bass

Alan Morse: guitar

Jamie Sheriff: synthesizer

Written by Britt Bacon and Damon Leigh

©1980

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 15ips

Song #20: Action Billed (2012)

I've now been in the post-production sound business longer than I was in the music business (that's kind of sad, but the money's been steady so I shouldn't complain: insert smallest violin here).
Still there are many parallels between both businesses.
A band, a producer, and an engineer working together creatively in a recording studio is not that much different than actors, a director, and a crew working together on a film-stage.
Both scenarios involve a benevolent dictatorship combined with presumed cooperation, that to an outsider may seem chaotic, but upon closer inspection is almost ballet-like in execution. Everyone works together with a common goal (hit-song or blockbuster) in mind.

This song was inspired by a colleague "leaving" the film business, but the song took on a life of it's own, and became a tribute to all the people who work in the film business.
It takes a village to make an album, and a big city to make a movie, and it is exhilarating, frustrating, and humbling for me to be a small part of the process.

Action Bill

On the largest sound-stage in the world

Stands an actor with a cool stark face

On the largest sound-stage in the world

It's a ballet of the human race

Behind the scenes

There's a grip with a whip, and a dolly, and a bull

Behind the scenes

There's a driver resting pretty full

Behind the scenes

There's an extra playing off the best boys

Behind the scenes

There's a trailer making too much noise

Hit the lights

Roll sound

It's action Bill

In the smallest edit-bay in the world

Sits a picture of a cool stark face

In the smallest edit-bay in the world

There's a single frame that's out of place

Behind the scenes

A trashcan overflows with Red Bull

Behind the scenes

There's an Avid bin looking pretty full

Behind the scenes

The director's starting to annoy

Behind the scenes

When the match-frame works it's so much joy

Hit the lights

Roll sound

It's action Bill

Lock it up and copy that action

One more take we'll make satisfation

Lock it up and copy that action

One more take we'll fake satisfaction

And the car spins around in the 5.1 sound

And crash and explosion's divine

As the golden hour goes into grace

I'd be lying if I told you the time

Britt Bacon: keyboards, vocals

Ira Ingber: guitars

Alan Morse: guitars

Richy Stano: guitars

Special thanks to David, Tad, Brett, Dan, Kevin, Andre, Leslie, John, John, John, Joshua, Daniel, Donnie, Drew, and Jessica for their voice-over talents.
Extra special thanks to Sam for the set jargon!

Control room picture courtesy of Ben Swets

Written by Britt Bacon 

©2012

Source: digital audio tracks 48k.

Song #19: In Your Head (1986)

In 1986, my second musical mentor Chad Stuart, called with news that he and Jeremy Clyde had signed on to the "British Reinvasion" tour. Chad wondered if my band would like to be their backing group. With no hesitation I said yes, got the guys together, and began rehearsing the set using sheet music and some scribbled notes Chad sent me. We flew to New York, had one rehearsal with Chad and Jeremy, and the next night performed at Madison Square Garden to a packed house!
Talk about a trial by fire...

There were four other bands from the original British Invasion on the bill:
Gerry and the Pacemakers
The Searchers
Freddie and the Dreamers
The Mindbenders

Over the next six weeks, we four (Michael Hodge on bass) Americans traveled across the country with fourteen English musicians, sharing two tour buses, and playing venues large and not so large.
We derived our band name, "Eckey Thump", from the exclamation "ecky thump" that some of our northern-England tour-mates would often use.

At a Holiday Inn in Milwaukee, WI, Teddy Zambetti distracted the clerk at the front desk, while Alan Morse, and I wheeled an upright piano into the elevator, and loaded it into my room.
Over the next couple of days we wrote the music for "In Your Head".

In retrospect, I realize the lyrics of this song were a result of my amazing friendship with Eckart Floether.

I met Eckart in Topanga in 1979, while Skyline Recording was being built. The cargo van he was renting to move into his house, got stuck in a ditch, and he asked if we would help. He treated us to a glorious lunch on his outdoor deck as Beethoven's 6th provided the soundtrack (still one of my faves), and his cute girlfriend cooked.
Eckart had been a successful writer and journalist in Germany, when he sold his possessions and moved to Poona, India to follow the guru Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh.
One morning during meditation, Eckart had the realization that this guy was a BAD MAN, so he escaped from the cult and came to America to re-group. He eventually got a masters degree in Theology, wrote a book about the cult, and helped to get Rajneesh kicked out of the country (the cult moved to Oregon in 1981).

We were room-mates for a year, and spent many evenings in front of the fireplace figuring out the world. I will always be thankful to Eckart for teaching me how to navigate around the many false prophets, and jerks that reside not just in the music business, but in everyday life.

In Your Head

So they talk from beyond the grave

And they tell you they control the weather

And they send out scalar waves

So you put this all together

Well the moment they said hello

You said goodbye forever

It's simple really

And you know all of that is

In your head

All of that is

In your head

It's all it'll ever be

So she got home late last night

Looking like she had a good time

And you don't want to start a fight

But your imagination's working overtime

And you pictured her having sex

With a tyrannosaurus rex

It's history really

And you know all of that is

In your head

All of that is

In your head

It's all it'll ever be

Wash your face in the ice cold water wake up

Break the lace of your straight-jacket off of your

Tied up mind

Those ties that bind

So you think you're Shirley MacLaine

And you go to all these seminars

Well I've got your astral plane

Right here next to your star-charts

And you think that you're not insane

But you're really out on a limb too far

There's something wrong with your brain

And you know all of that is

P.S. Shortly after we wrote this song, I was invited to go to a Hollywood dinner party by my (then) girlfriend Sara. Shirley MacLaine was at the party, and I really wanted to play the song for her, but I chickened out.
Probably for the best...

Britt Bacon: vocals, keyboards

Alan Morse: guitars, bgs

Teddy Zambetti: drums, bongos, bgs

Ritt Henn: acoustic and electric basses

Written by Britt Bacon, Alan Morse, and Teddy Zambetti

©1986

Source: 22 track tape (the other 2 tracks were used for automation). Remixed 2013. No auto-tune.

Song #18: No H Note (1983)

In 1982, when Ira Ingber and I started writing and recording together, we did not draft a "mission statement", but there was an unspoken understanding between us to really push the boundaries of popular music. Odd time signatures, weird sounds, and no conventional love songs, all but guaranteed we would have a difficult time finding an audience; let alone a record deal.

One record company executive who liked us was Jamie Cohen. Besides being one of the top A&R people in town, Jamie was an accomplished visual artist. He had a laser-bright brain, and a stiletto-sharp wit, and it was always fun to "pitch" our music to him.

The night Jamie stopped by the studio as we were recording this song was especially memorable.
You can "hear that sound" of the BG vocals he contributed for the ending choruses.

Jamie was supportive and enthusiastic, but he never signed us.
It took a while until we realized record company executives are actually paid to say "NO".

No H Note

We've got blacks, we've got whites

We've got yellows, we've got reds

And with water and sun plants make chlorophyll green

They turn brown when they're dead

You take acid, you use salt

You put refined sugar in your protein malt

And with a shake and a stir all your senses go blur

It's nobody's fault

It's the one the Romans never found

They say you can't hear this sound

ABCDEFG, but no H note

No no H note no

Absentee from Harmony 3

We've footballs, we've got halfs

We've got quarters, we've got eighths

And you can be my guest and take a whole note rest

Don't be late

We've got Mozart, we've got Bach

We've got Beethoven, we've have Brahms

Between the fifth and the ninth there's no more lines

They've already written all the songs

It's the one the medicine men never found

They say you can't hear that sound

ABCDEFG, but no H note

No no H note no

Absentee from Harmony 3

Can you hear that sound...

In loving memory...

 Jamie Cohen

Britt Bacon: vocals

Ira Ingber: guitars, drum programming, bgs
Carl Sealove: electric Stingray bass

Steve Allen: saxophone

Jamie Cohen: bgs

Written by Britt Bacon and Ira Ingber

©1983

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips