Song #17: Hey Karl (2009)

When I closed Skyline Recording in 1992, I figured I'd make a living as a freelance engineer/producer. At first it was refreshing to apply my talents in the real world. I worked on a few albums and really enjoyed being in studios as a client, and not as an owner.

What I didn't enjoy was waiting 90 days or longer to get paid. When I owned the recording studio I could use the leverage of not releasing master tapes until payments were received. As a freelancer that leverage disappeared, and the record companies would stall as long as possible to pay me.

I had resisted doing post-production work for film or television because my real love was making music, but as my savings dwindled and frustration grew, I gladly accepted a position as a mixer for ABC Television. The weirdness of mixing commercials for T.V. shows was offset by a steady paycheck, and a few years later I moved to a major film studio to mix commercials and trailers for films.

Eighteen years later I'm still here.

When you work somewhere long enough your co-workers become part of your extended family.
When one of these co-workers "leaves" the company, it can feel like the loss of a loved one; one day they are here, and the next day they are "gone".

I started writing songs for co-workers who left the company to pay tribute to their work, and to deal with the fact I probably would not be seeing them anymore.

Karl was our driver. His political viewpoint is 180 degrees different from mine, and I learned early on not to debate him because I'd run out of steam just as he was getting warmed up. If anything, Karl is knowledgeable and passionate about his beliefs, and I give him props for that... even if he is wrong ;-)

Today Karl is doing great. He works all around town as a driver on lots of hit shows.
He is a good man.

Hey Karl

Ground control to Major Karl

Please turn your engine on

Map the route from A to B

And listen to this song

Objects in your mirrors

May be closer than they seem

And fifty-thousand miles

Can go by just like in a dream

And we hear them scream

Hey Karl 

We've got a real special mission

Can you make it to DG by eight

Hey Karl 

And just a little side trip 

To the cleaners for Jim's suit for his date

Hey Karl 

This fact is not a fiction

Cause the future of our planet's at stake

This is important

You have been chosen

I know you're ready

This is important

Watch your speed around the bend

It's after two at night

Check your mirrors turn signals on

While merging to the right

Doctors and the lawyers

And policeman know it's true

You may not be saving lives

But helping people's dreams come true

It all comes down to you

Britt Bacon: instruments and vocals

Written by Britt Bacon
©2009

Source: DAT

Song #16: Coup d'état (1985)

There is a gold record hanging on a wall of my house I received for work as "a second" (assistant engineer) on Chicago #16. Even though my hands-on engineering for Chicago was minimal, this memento is one of my most cherished.

The band arrived at Skyline Recording in 1982, a little more than a year after we had opened. They hadn't had a hit record for a few years, and Columbia Records had dropped them. My understanding was the band was self-financing this record (no Kickstarter then), and they hired David Foster to produce.

David was (still is) enormously talented musically, but his real strength was his diplomacy navigating the politics of a large band, while gently dragging them toward the modern sounds of a new decade. He could be forceful when needed, while diffusing conflicts with a well-timed joke or ego stroke. 

The engineer was Humberto Gatica, and it was magic to watch this master work. Humberto is pasionate about sound, and he would crawl inside it to flesh out it's essence (sorry; that's the only way I can describe what he does with sound). His mastery of everything from microphone placement to mixing techniques, I still crib from to this day.

Peter Cetera, the voice of Chicago, was the model of what every successful rock star should be.
He pulls up in his 911, gets out perfectly quaffed, and goes to work. He is courteous and gracious to everyone, and this guy CAN REALLY SING.

One evening after Peter had been singing all day, he was having trouble hitting a high harmony note.
I started humming the part to myself, and realized "I could hit that note. Oh shit; what'll I do?".

I exit the control room, go to the bathroom, and sing. I can do it.
Should I tell them?

When I returned to the control room they were packing it up.

This was my first experience working with a band of this stature, and I did not realize at the time how lucky I was. Only later would I understand that not all rock stars, producers, and engineers are as talented, or as generous and humble as these guys were. This was professional show business at a level I have only rarely glimpsed in the years since.

In those days, when an album went gold (or platinum), the record company would send plaques to all participants as a "thank you". Nowadays, if you work on a record that goes gold, you have to buy the plaque yourself.

In 1985 the country was in the middle of Ronald Reagan's residency of the White House, and while certain people of society were doing quite well with his policies, others were not. It was disheartening, if not a little strange, to see homeless people sleeping on bus benches and begging at freeway off-ramps... in the San Fernando valley. 
No "Occupy" movement arose at the time, but there was a sense of dissatisfaction with the status quo.

Teddy and I (coincidentally?) read "One Hundred Years of Solitude" by Gabriel García Márquez, and I had been experimenting with a dissonant chord progression... and a new song was born.

On the inner cover of Chicago II, there is this declaration:  "With this album, we dedicate ourselves, our futures and our energies to the people of the revolution. And the revolution in all of its forms."

And when I was writng the horn parts for Coup d'état, I was definitely thinking about Walter, James and Lee, the soul of Chicago.

Coup d'état

The tailor weaves from seam to seam

Hundred years of solitude

The prisoner moves to make his plea

A hundred years of solitude

While the actor lives another scene

Hundred years of solitude

And to the psychopath it's all a dream

A hundred years of solitude

A thought 

The way it has to be a style

You have to fit to see this reign of mediocrity

Or if you prefer

Coup d'état

What's in is out and what's out ain't free

Hundred years of solitude

To join the club it's a nominal fee

A hundred years of solitude

Well it must be true it's on T.V.

Hundred years of solitude

And when I grow up I wanna be

A hundred years of solitude

A thought 

The way it has to be a style

You have to fit to see this reign of mediocrity

Or if you prefer

Coup d'état

Britt Bacon: vocals, keyboard

Alan Morse: guitar, bgs

Ritt Henn: electric bass

Teddy Zambetti: drums, bgs

I've forgotten the names of the session horn players we hired to play on the song. What a geek. If you guys are out there, please contact me and I will fix the credits.

Written by Britt Bacon and Teddy Zambetti
©1985

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

Song #15: We'll Meet Someday (1996)

By 1996, it was becoming increasingly clear to me that I would never realize my dream of becoming a rock star. I would be turning 40 years old the following year, and my previous bands had broken up. My musician friends were scattered across the country, and I had landed a steady job in Hollywood mixing commercials for the movies.

Every so often though, the muse would call, and inspired by events in my life, I'd have an overwhelming desire to write a song.

I had been visiting my dear friend, Paul Delph, on an irregular basis since his HIV diagnosis in 1993.
I met Paul at Skyline Recording in 1981. He produced and played on many amazing records at Skyline (including his own), and while he was a great client for the studio, his warm and gentle spirit, and uncanny musical chops, always made his presence welcome.
When Ira Ingber and I formed a band in 1982, Paul graciously offered his stellar synthesizer services for our live shows and recordings, and we continued to work together on different projects through the years. (You will hear more of his contributions to my musical life in future posts).

When I got the call that Paul wasn't doing well, I wrote this song, and called Ira.
We recorded the song one afternoon in April, 1996 at Ira's home studio, and I dropped it off at Paul's apartment later that evening.

 

We'll Meet Someday

God made a little seed

And it grew up to be a tree

The branches they touched the sky

Some kids made a tire swing

With a rope on the tree and they'd sing

How God makes everything great

Branches break and promises of no mistakes

Well I'm not perfect but I tell you this we'll meet someday

Sure flunked physics and slept right through theosophy

I don't know nothing but I tell you we'll meet someday

Lying naked on a beach

With the sun and the sand beer in reach

The waves are warm and clear

Going sailing in the sea

With the wind in our face and we feel

How we will always be real

Tidal waves and promises of no mistakes

Well I'm not perfect but I tell you this we'll meet someday

Sure flunked physics and slept right through theosophy

I don't know nothing but I tell you this we'll meet someday

Branches break and promises of no mistakes

Well I'm not perfect but I tell you this we'll meet someday

Sure flunked physics and slept right through theosophy

I don't know nothing but I tell you this we'll meet someday

Diseases suck, but you can still contribute to the "Paul Delph Memorial Scholarship Fund", while enjoying Paul's epic last album, "A God That Can Dance".

Britt Bacon: acoustic guitar, vocals

Ira Ingber: electric guitar, bass, drum programming

Vida Vierra: bg vocals

Written by Britt Bacon

©1996

Source: DAT

Song #14: Film at Eleven (1980)

One of the benefits of being a recording engineer: you work in a sound-proof room. There are no distractions from the outside world to impede your focus on the task at hand; i.e., to "make it sound good".

 

One of the drawbacks of being a recording engineer: you work in a sound-proof room. Shit happens in the outside world, and you are completely unaware.

The result is I am a really good engineer, but am often-times totally clueless.

I was mixing this song, on December 8th, 1980, unaware that my former girlfriend had entered into a suicide pact with Darby Crash the night before. She survived. He did not.

The evening of this same day, outside the Dakota apartment building in New York, John Lennon was murdered. Damon was watching television in the lounge when he heard the news, and he came into the control room to tell me.

Lennon's death totally eclipsed Crash's in the news cycle, and it wasn't until years later that I learned the awful details in an excerpt from Brendan Mullen's book in the L.A. Weekly.

Film At Eleven

We interrupt your fantasy

To bait you with this late situation

We've got it down for you to see

The best of the worst in the nation

The sunset strangler strikes again

His victim she's nude and it's heaven

There's bad news too it looks like rain

We've got the film at eleven

We've got the film at eleven

We've got the news we couldn't show you at seven

The stories are hot

We'll thicken the plot

See who the cops shot 

A half-hour sacrifice of sleep

We'll give you the suspect's arraignment

We'll even try and hang the creep

All for your late night entertainment

Forget the hapless state you're in

This pause for the cause to remind you

Swallow our sponsor's aspirin

And put all your headaches behind you

We've got the film at eleven

We've got the news we couldn't show you at seven

The stories are hot

We'll thicken the plot

See who the cops shot 

Safe in the warm security of bed

Play another scene of violence through your head

Film at eleven shows it all

See America's decline and fall

Britt Bacon: vocals, guitar

Alan Morse: lead guitar

Dean Groves: bass

Scott Monahan: Farfisa

Teddy Zambetti: drums

Written by Britt Bacon and Damon Leigh

© 1980

Source: 1/4" stereo analogue tape 30 ips

 

Song #13: Jump the Wall (1977)

If being a teenager/young adult is all about rebellion and finding oneself, this stage of life was especially difficult for me, as all my friends thought my parents were: "the coolest people in the world" (insert "smallest violin ever" here).

My parents (pretty much) WERE the coolest people in the world, but all I wanted to do was escape their clutches and go out into the world.

When I decided to drop out of UCLA after my freshman year to become a songwriter, my father offered to help me build a recording studio in the garage. The studio was to be a commercial enterprise, but the possibility that I could record my music during "off hours", offset the fact that I wasn't "free" from my parents purview.
I accepted the Faustian bargain, and "Spoiled Brat Recording" was born. The studio became popular, and the "off hours" became fewer and farther between...

 

and even now, as a supposed "grown-up", I find myself longing to escapet the gilded cage.

 

This is one of three songs my second mentor, Chad Stuart graciously produced.

Jump the Wall

Crazy man

Run to the trees

Taste the moonlight

Fall to your knees

Jump the wall when no one knows

Race until the morning

Close the door and key the lock

Now you're free for a while

Just for a while

Crazy man

They followed your trail

Formed a posse

Jump the wall go to jail

Raise the price and someone tells

Money talks to strangers

Block the streets surround the house

Only five minutes to come out

Five minutes to come out

Crazy man

There's a knock at your door

Taste the lead fly

Fall to the floor

Jump the wall when no one knows

Race until the morning

Close the door and key the lock

Now you're free for a while

Just for a while

Britt Bacon: vocals, guitar, vibraslap

Chad Stuart: bass, bgs

Written by Britt Bacon

©1978

Source: analogue cassette

Song #12: Parisian Pearl (1987)

In 1985, I went to my ten year high school reunion and "met" my future wife, Sara. 

We were in school together from the first grade, but had never dated. She was a straight-laced, straight A student, and I was a hippie musician, so our paths only occasionally crossed through the years.

At the reunion she told me she had just returned from Paris, France, where she had been living and working for the past five years. This was not the Sara I remembered from high school, and I was immediately smitten.

Unfortunately, I was not the greatest catch. Years of self-imposed studio hermitage, combined with burgeoning self-destructive behaviors, had rendered me a shell of my former self.

Sara was wise to steer clear of my advances.

Additionally, Skyline Recording was in escrow on a pending sale,  and I was contemplating a move to London to pursue my rock-star dreams.

When the sale of the studio fell through at the last minute, I hit rock-bottom.

Slowly, I began the process of pulling myself out the pit of the life I had created.

(INSERT LONG  BOB DYLAN STORY HERE)

Eventually, Sara agreed to date me, and in 1987, she agreed to become my wife.
I am very lucky to have found a real pearl.

When I asked Teddy for his reflections on his lyrics for this song he said, "I think it was a combo of some young lady and Rocky Raccoon".

From my perspective, many of Teddy's lyrics have a beautiful cinematic Shakespearean quality about them. Throw in some unrequited love, some stalking, Jimmie Wood's evocative soulful harmonica, and Debra Dobkin's haunting chorus vocals, and you've got a full movie in just four and a half minutes. 

Parisian Pearl

It's between you and me and a rival

It's way beyond the point of survival

Let the pendulum swing

Armed with hope a coat and a bible

I'm playing kick the can in a minefield

Let the pendulum swing

I have been chasing around the world

Looking to find my Parisian pearl

You can have two for only

You can have two for only

In the middle of Van Gogh's wheat field

You can hear the creak of the windmill

Let the pendulum swing

Qu'est ce que je peux faire?
Que veux-tu?* 

What can I say what can I do

Oh let the pendulum swing

I have been chasing around the world

Looking to find my Parisian pearl

You can have two for only

You can have two for only

I have asked princes and kings and earls

Has anyone seen my Parisian pearl

You can have two for only

You can have two for only

The clouds have written the words in verse

Telling me where you'll be

Setting the trail for better or worse

Through the streets of fair Par-ee

Back on sand I wait as the sea swirls

Deciphering clues as the mystery unfurls

Let the pendulum swing

*translation courtesy of Sara

From the web: The pearl imitation business can trace its beginning back to the 17th century. Parisian bead maker, Jaquin, is believed to be the first person to invent the faux pearl technique. Early pearl imitations involved coating the inside of blown glass spheres with a mixture of ground fish scales and varnish, then filling them with wax. Paris remained the major producer of these types of pearls until the 19th century. 

Britt Bacon: vocals, piano, synth

Alan Morse: guitars, bg vocals

?: bass

Teddy Zambetti: drums, bg vocals

Jimmie Wood: harmonica

Debra Dobkin: percussion, bg vocals

Written by Britt Bacon and Teddy Zambetti

© 1987

Source: 1/4" stereo analogue tape 30ips
(To be remixed at a later date)

Song #11: I Radiate (1984)

The great Ira Ingber and I constructed this rough demo at his home studio, "Colonel Muscletone Studios" in 1984. If anything, listen to this song for Ira's ripping guitar solo at around the 2:20 mark.

Our recent correspondence (redacted for Area 51 security purposes) fills in some blanks:

In the late fifties/early sixties, we were surrounded by the ever present threat of nuclear annihilation. The "Duck and Cover Civil Defense" film was shown in class, and we practiced the technique once a month.

Air raid sirens were tested every week, and I remember having a sick feeling in my stomach when they sounded.

Perhaps my "gut" reaction was due to Operation Plumbbob, which took place while I was gestating in my Mom's womb, 400 miles away in the San Fernando Valley.

From Wikipedia: During the 1950s, the mushroom clouds from these tests could be seen for almost 100 mi (160 km) in either direction, including the city of Las Vegas, where the tests became tourist attractions. Americans headed for Las Vegas to witness the distant mushroom clouds that could be seen from the downtown hotels.

In Southern California, there is a phenomenon known as the "Santa Ana winds", whichever blow hard and hot from the Great Basin located (mostly) in Nevada. The valley also has the dubious distinction of being the place where the worst nuclear accident in America  occurred.

My Mom died last year (6/20/12) after an epic struggle with breast cancer. I like to think that she protected and inoculated me while I was in her belly, to make me invincible against the toxins of our world...

And once again, I'm amazed I'm still alive and well, and living in, and loving the San Fernando Valley.

I Radiate

I'm making personal history every day

Dear Diary...

Do tell me
If I think too much

Do tell me
If there's static in my touch

They told me
In 1956

Winds blowed me
An atomic bag of tricks

and this is why in the dark you can see me glow

Oh I radiate

Ooo I radiate

I don't have to shout to be noticed

My love is on fire

Please tell me
How long we'll survive
Please tell me
If it's U235

Would you tell me
Were we meant to be
Could you tell me
What's our half-life expectancy

And this is why in the dark you can see me glow

Oh I radiate
Ooo my time won't wait
I don't have to shout to be noticed
My love is on fire

And this is why I write in the dark...
you can see me glow

Britt Bacon: vocals, keyboard

Ira Ingber: guitars, drum programming, bgs

Written by Britt Bacon and Ira Ingber

©1984

Source: 1/4" stereo analogue tape 15ips

Song #10: Larger Than Life (1980)

Growing up in Granada Hills, our next door neighbor, Dave McClure, made his living as a carpenter and general handyman. I used to hang out and watch him work in his garage.
One day when I was around ten years old,  Dave was pulling some weeds around his house, and he asked if I would help.

A few hours of work later, he handed me a dollar bill!
I thought this was so cool, as it was the first money I'd ever earned.

Nine years later, I was working for Dave as his assistant.
We were doing a house remodel, and one of the other workers was the bass player, Bill Staebell. He recommended the keyboard player, John Serry from his band Auracle* as a piano teacher.

John went solo in 1979, with his album "Exhibition", and the gigs he played around town to promote the release were epic. The band was insanely tight, and his mastery of the keyboard was awe-inspiring. He nonchalantly walked on to Donte's stage with his keyboard scarf and cigarette dangling, and flipped the conventional jazz world on it's head.

All bets were off.

He taught me piano technique, and music theory, and his explanation of poly-chords was a game changer in my approach to creating music. He is my third musical mentor.

John recently released a new album "The Shift", and once again: all bets are off.

You can hear John's influence all over this song I wrote with Damon Leigh.

The ambitiousness of the music is matched only by the lyrics Damon wrote, which are based on "the Rubáiyát" by Omar Khayyám.

Recorded during the "burn in" sessions we did just before Skyline opened, I distinctly remember the guitarist Alan Morse bitching about the complexity of the song**.

And while Dave is comfortably retired in Arizona,  I hope he knows that he was also a mentor to me. He taught me an honest appreciation of people who work with their hands, and a deep respect for the working class heroes.

Larger Than Life

Now isn't strange that of everyone who

Before us has passed the darkest door through

No one returns to tell of the road

That for us to know we must travel too

There's something going on here

I don't know what it means

There must be something larger

Larger than life outside of dreams

I shot out my soul through the singular eye

Still thirsting to quench from this paradise well

And then by and by my soul came to tell

There can be no heaven in self-created hell

There's something going on here

I don't know what it means

There must be something larger

Larger than life outside of dreams

If heaven's but the vision of a found desire

Then hell's the helpless shadow of a soul on fire

Downcast upon the darkness into which it fell

Yet burning to emerge in time if only to expire

There's something going on here

I don't know what it means

There must be something larger

Larger than life outside of dreams

Britt Bacon: vocals, keyboards
Alan Morse: guitar
Jamie Sheriff: synth
Dean Groves: bass
Teddy Zambetti: drums

Written by Britt Bacon and Damon Leigh
©1980

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 30ips

*Researching this blog post I realized, in 1986, I engineered an album "Fresh Flute" by Steve Kujala, who was a member of "Auracle". I don't think I was aware of our John Serry connection when we were working together...

**Today Alan leads a prog-rock band, "Spock's Beard", and the songs on their new CD make "Larger than Life" sound like a nursery school song.

Song #9: Tales of No Tomorrow (1988)

I've always been skeptical and even antagonistic towards doomsday people who profess that the world is ending.

Yeah we're all gonna die (someday), but I'm in no rush to do so, and am wary of the whole self-fulfilling prophecy deal anyway. It also seems like these "prophets" are usually feathering their own nests with the fears of hopeless people.

I believe we should listen to our best scientists, and that humans are remarkably resilient when it comes to addressing issues that confront our civilization's continuation.

That being said, I am friends with (and am related to) people who have some amazing (psychic?) gifts, and I can't imagine the burden of being able to foretell the future.
Definitely a Twilight Zone episode.

When Teddy and I were writing together, he would often record (on cassette) me singing the nonsense noises I produce as place-holders for lyrics. He would take the tape home and listen, and then create lyrics based on my weird wailing ("It sounded like you were saying...").
I won't go as far as to say I was "channeling" some music spirits, or that Teddy was "channeling" me, but the results were often meaningful and profound.

Tales of No Tomorrow

The first time that she saw it

Was at only nine years old

The clearing through the forest

And her future was then told

The vision was a lonely one

Her world would abruptly end

Mama I ain't gonna make it

Baby let me hold you once again

In another part of the country

A little boy would soon be ten

From his bed he stared at the ceiling

And it wasn't just pretend

His outlook was shattered

Lost love is no big deal

And nothing really matters

Awaiting the spin of the wheel

Tales of no tomorrow

Dreams of yester-year

You've got to fight the premonition

Fight the premonition

Make the tears disappear

And tales of no tomorrow

There are people from all around the world

Who see things very clear

I wish that we could save them all

Say the word and they'd be healed

Is it better to know what comes and goes

Or is ignorance bliss

Will the winds of time intercede

Like a lover blows a kiss

Tales of no tomorrow

Dreams of yester-year

You've got to fight the premonition

Fight the premonition

Make the tears disappear

And tales of no tomorrow

Britt Bacon: keyboards, vocals
Teddy Zambetti: drum programming, bgs
Richy Stano: acoustic and electric guitars

Written by Britt Bacon and Ted Zambetti
©1988

Source: 1/4" analogue tape 15ips

Song #8: Yesterday's Not Happening (Anymore) (1981)

We were recording late one evening, when the doorbell to the studio rang (actually a flashing light in the control room).
I asked Damon to go see who it was.
He opened the door to see a parked Rolls Royce, and the smiling face of Billy Preston!

Billy said he had heard there was a new studio in the canyon, and was wondering if he could check it out. Damon brought him into the control room, and everyone freaked out.

The fifth Beatle!

We were in the middle of doing percussion overdubs, and Mr. Preston helped clap, and played the tambourine. He was the perfect gentleman rockstar.

Wow.

Too bad we didn't have a Hammond B3 organ in the house.

Maybe it was for the best.

To quote one of my mentors, "that was yesterday, and yesterday's gone".

Yesterday's Not Happening (Anymore)

You have no future, you have no past

You've just got now, and that won't last

You're feeling less, and wanting more

It's such a mess cause yesterday's

Not happening anymore

Another dollar another day

You didn't bother it got away

And when you found you lost one more

It took you down cause yesterday's

Not happening anymore

And I don't know just what tomorrow's for

Yesterday's not happening anymore

Don't ask me why I don't stay

I'm living for today

You've been to Pismo you dream of Spain

You hope there's more to life than rain

You lose your doubt you close the door

You're moving out cause yesterday's

Not happening anymore

And I don't know just what tomorrow's for

Yesterday's not happening anymore

Don't ask me why I don't stay

I'm living for today

Britt Bacon: vocals, guitar

Alan Morse: guitars, bgs
Scott Monahan: piano, bgs

Teddy Zambetti: drums, bgs

Dean Groves: bass
Billy Preston: tambourine

Written by Britt Bacon and Damon Leigh

©1981

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

Song #7: Burger City (1980)

This is my dear friend Kurt Berhold, hanging from a rafter (joist?) as he makes a cut with a Skilsaw. I went to junior high, and high school with Kurt, and he was the construction foreman of Skyline Recording, and a master of all things wood (cue the Beavis and Butthead quips). He's also an outstanding cook.

When you build a recording studio, it's a good idea to test the equipment before you open to the public. This is called the "burn in" time.

I had planned to record our New Invaderz concept album at Skyline Recording during this period, but the band broke up two months before the studio's scheduled completion.

Damon Leigh wrote some lyrics, and we pounded out 6 songs in six weeks.

We assembled a band, rehearsed, and on October 1st, 1980, cut the first track at Skyline Recording.

This song is especially prescient, considering the foodie times in which we live.

Thanks to Kurt for the slides, and Tim for the transfer.

(BTW I love the blog A Hamburger Today)

Burger City

Run down Burger City
Be good to yourself
I've been Burger City
So good for your health
Take a lean one
Make a mean one
On a sesame seed roll
Shakin' and bakin'
Been breakin' me out
Finger lickin'
Meat flippin'
Burger City

Well I ran from the meat stand
To bleed on myself
Yes I took it in my hand
To feed on myself
I've been bleedin'
I've been feedin'
Off this vanilla soul
Shakin' and bakin'
Been flakin' me out
Finger lickin'
Rib stickin'
Burger City

Mustard, catsup
Pickles and onion rings
Smothered in mayonaise
Slay it under
All of your favorite things
Nothing can kill that taste

Run down Burger City
To see for yourself
Your town Burger City
So good for your health
You won't get no pity
I've got to run
Before it gets cold
Shakin' and bakin'
Ain't takin' it out
Finger lickin'
Tooth pickin'
Burger City

Britt Bacon: vocals, Wurlitzer electric piano, piano

Alan Morse: guitars, bg vocals
Teddy Zambetti: drums, bg vocals
Dean Groves: bass

Written by Britt Bacon and Damon Leigh
©1980

Source: 2 track 1/4" tape, 30ips

Song #6: Vital Signs (1982)

I met the phenomenal Ira Ingber at Skyline Recording in 1981, while he was producing an album for my first music teacher, and songwriting mentor, Gary Tigerman. I was the engineer.

Ira and I became fast friends, and began writing together.
We were definitely on a mission to push the limits of popular music, as evidenced by our first song, "Vital Signs":
1) The verses throw a 5/4 bar into the mix, and you can still dance to it.
2) The lyrics are really twisted (probably due to the fact that I wrote them in my car outside my dealer's house at two in the morning).
3) The opening sound you hear is the automation track that was used by the MCI console to recall the volume levels and mutes of the mix (this was before disk based systems so the automation was alternately recorded to two tracks of the analogue 24 track tape). When we realized the pitch of the automation was in the same key as the song, we decided to use it as an appropriate opening.

It was a "beautiful concept".

Ira and I spent so many hours together recording and mixing, that we achieved a "hive-mind".
We don't see each other very much (even though we live just 15 miles from each other*), and we don't really talk that much, but we feel each others pain or pleasure, on at least a weekly basis...

Vital Signs

you can say what you want to

but I can't believe

a taste of humanity

is all that we need

you know what you're after

just chasing the beat

it's a matter or rhythm

stress and relief

an ancient virus in the air 

straps you down to the electric chair

finding your pulse you search the skies

you're checking up on your vital signs

fused convolutions

in interior folds

and magnetic fields

of grey matter I'm told

and monitors turned on

autonomics don't rest

the functions are bound to reveal

the success of the test

an ancient virus in the air 

straps you down to the electric chair

finding your pulse you search the skies

you're checking up on your vital signs

Britt Bacon: vocals
Ira Ingber: guitars, bass, bg vocals
Pat Mastelotto: drums
Paul Delph: synth
Steve Allen: sax

Written by Britt Bacon and Ira Ingber
© 1982

Source: 2 track 1/4" tape, 30ips
(to be remixed at a later date)

*405 hell.

Song #5: Afghanistan (1980)

This is one of the "burn in" songs we recorded at Skyline Recording before it opened to the public.

In 1979, Richard Baskin, a client of Spoiled Brat Recording, recommended a composition teacher.
I studied for two years with the great Abby Fraser, and he always stressed the importance of NEVER using parallel 5ths in counterpoint. Although the opening notes to this song are not technically "parallel", I'm sure I was pushing Abby's buttons when I wrote them.

I was inspired to write the opening notes and following song, by Damon Leigh's most amazing timeless and poetic lyrics.

Special shout out to Mr. Dean Groves who plays a most profound bass solo.

The Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in 1979.

P.S. Recognize the opening "sample"?

Afghanistan

I believe forever

Nothing's here to stay

One day we may not see tomorrow

Don't let that stop you

You know there's nowhere to hide

Your pride inside of no man's land

You're coming to Afghanistan

Traveling through as fast as you can

Everyone here dies in the wool

Might better steer clear of Kabul

Stroking the lapis lazuli

Your desert's cut and dried

No eyes surmise precipitation

You stake your chances down

When you play the answers 'round

You're right

You're coming through Afghanistan

Do what you do as best as you can

You'll never know where it all ends

If we're nomad why can't we be friends

Stroking the lapis lazuli

Your desert's cut and dried

No eyes surmise precipitation

You stake your chances down

When you play the answers 'round

You're right

I believe forever

Nothing's here to stay

One day we may not see tomorrow

Don't let that stop you

Britt Bacon: vocals, piano

Alan Morse: guitar

Teddy Zambetti: drums

Dean Groves: bass

Jamie Sheriff: synth

Written by Britt Bacon and Damon Leigh
© 1980

Source: 1/4" stereo master 30ips

Song #4: The New Invaderz Anthem (1979)

In 1979, while helping assemble Skyline Recording (jackhammers and solder anyone?), I was also writing a concept album with Gary Dranow, about aliens who come to earth through an accidental interaction of radio waves and chemicals.

My friend, Sam Cherroff, was attending CSUN as a film major, and I co-opted the opportunity to make a music video. We shot (on film) in a huge, new drainage pipe, that ran under Rinaldi Street in the north part of the San Fernando valley.
With a can of red spray paint, Mark Boberg improvised our logo on one of the walls of the pipe.

We were convinced that in the future, people would want to watch music videos.

MTV first aired in 1981.

E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial premiered in 1982

Ah youth.

Well, music is after all, the universal language, and if you ever needed to communicate with an alien, music might be a good place to start.

Close Encounters anyone?

The band broke up not long after this, due to too many chemicals interacting with our radio waves.

A very cool anthem.

I would definitely be dead by now had this band succeeded.

The New Invaderz Anthem

We're not just bad boys with big stage dreams

We are the New Invaderz

We come from every space and time

Draining into the sidewalk cracks

We're coming the New Invaderz

You can leave your back doors open at night

Put a message in a room of your house

You can turn out the lights

And the innocents will sleep alright

We are the New Invaderz

We are the soul survivors

We are the real perpetrators

We are the real

A vehicle of art or a sixties clone

We are the New Invaderz

A mind meld into words and tone

Attacking the cultural edges

Come in the New Invaderz

You can leave your front doors open at night

Put a message in a room of your house

You can turn out the lights

And the innocents will sleep alright

We are the New Invaderz

We are the soul survivors

We are the real perpetrators

We are the real

We don't look like anybody else you've ever seen

Our minds are made up and our faces are clean

And we might just stick around for a while

You can open the door you can run down the street

Put a sign on the top of your house

We'll be landing where you put the lights tonight

Britt Bacon: vocals, guitar, bass

Gary Dranow: lead guitar, BG vocals
Fred Rehfeld: synth, BG vocals
Shaun Weinstein: drums

Written by Britt Bacon and Gary Dranow
©1979

Source: mono mag from film transfer