Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

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Day 94 was a hard song to write, and it continues to be a hard song to sing. I wrote it as random scribbles on the back of a concert playbill i had in my pocket while i was waiting in a doctor’s office. Random enough? The inspiration was as much anything that song refers to as it was the fact that i was due to have my tonsils removed by said doctor within two weeks; i felt as though i hadn’t made good use of my voice for a while and wanted to work on something new before i has things taken out of my throat by surgical force.

Having written the first draft of the lyrics on it, the playbill then found its way to my floor – where it stayed for two weeks until i read them to Elise one night. I don’t remember the entire chain of events, but a few hours later i came out with the revised and arranged song that kicked off today’s event. It’s still rather young and rough around the edges (and has oh-so-many lyrics to squeeze in), but i definitely like it already.

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For me Blogathon is a study in controlling chaos.


Last year when i agreed to make twenty-five recordings to post over a twenty-four hour span the task seemed impossibly daunting, and it got even more daunting when i got locked out of my school’s recording studio with only six songs recorded. But, it was never really the songs i was worried about, evidenced by the fact that in the end i exceeded my original estimate by twenty-nine. I don’t remember what i ate, or how i got to sleep the day before, or how i kept all 54 of the songs organized on my hard drive. What i do remember is that finishing was never a question: i had the songs, i had the drive, i had a cause, i had friends to keep me awake, and i had a final song to debut.

Though i could hardly claim to be surprised by the chaotic nature of the events surrounding my entry into the ‘thon this year, i could have hardly predicted that it would wind up like this. There is no ace-in-the-hole final song, no trio of intrepid bloggers to rely on for humor in the dead of the night. There is a cause that i’ve had to defend to multiple friends and acquaintances, and a general air of weariness. And then there are the songs.

I finished half of my recording by Tuesday and took a day’s break to rest my voice. Then i took a break to shop for a microphone. Then i took a break to wait to pick up my new 4-track mixer. Then i quickly broke from my break when i returned my mixer due to it being a piece of crap. And then i broke again today to set up my new 8-track mixer, which is here to stay. The results are a heaping pile of the easy songs, recorded in every possibly iteration : into one microphone, with stereo boost, with amplification, through the mixer, through the mixer with less treble. But, that heaping pile sifts down to something like twelve songs when it comes right down to what i’m willing to present to the god-knows-how-many people may or may not wander through here today. With leaves me thirteen left to record, some of which are scheduled to be posted in a matter of hours.


Chaos. I don’t have anything to eat, i’m tired, and i only have half of my songs recorded. However, i am blogging for a charity i honestly believe in and have been affected by, i have over half a dozen guests stopping by to lend their talents to my cause, and i have a will to get this done. After all, no one said it would be easy. It should be noted, though, that everyone says it will be fun.

Rock on.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/07/85287932/

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I am a bit deflated.

For the record, Radio Shack is Satan. Did you get that? RS = SATAN … Without going into exhaustive detail, the short of it is this: last night i want to my local shack of horrors to pick up some audio cables and a quarter inch signal splitter. After talking for a while to the sales person as i picked out my equipment it became obvious that i was buying things to make up for the fact that i don’t have a digital mixer to run mic and amp signals through. It just so happened that (surprise), the shack had just such a mixer on sale for $99, but at a different location. Biting the bullet solely for the quality of my Blogathon entries, i paid in cash and agreed to pick it up this afternoon. Well, i’ve just now returned from the downtown store sans a mixer, because the mixer had very little to do with anything i’m trying to achieve in my “home studio.” I understand that a lot of instruments and turn tables have a whole ton of RCA Stereo outputs, but i’m a musician and have nothing of the kind, so a mixer with 4 stereo RCA ins and 2 stereo RCA outs just means i need 6 RCA to eighth inch adapters. Did you follow that?


So, the very short of it is that, for the time being, the Blogathon songs will not be recorded in full-quality digital audio as supposed in the last post. Furthermore, if you know anything about home 4+ channel mixers for under $200, please contact me ASAP.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/07/85279554/

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At first I thought that i was hungry. Two in the morning, lying on my back on top of the covers thinking that maybe, perhaps, i was hungry.

There was definitely a sensation of roiling unease in my stomach, and i had definitely jogged two miles between the last time i ate and the moment i resignedly turned to my side and pulled the covers over my midriff. I could go have a snack if i really wanted to, but i was already dangerously close to staying up for an entire twenty-four hours. I didn’t relish the idea of doing it twice in one week. I would eat in the morning.

I wasn’t hungry. The bowl of Cheerios stared back at me, scores of tiny unwinking eyes returning my blank gaze. Never a blink. Probably wondering why i poured them in the first place. The spoon and i were like a assembly line machine, working with deliberation rather than care to finish one task and move on to the next. I finished unenthusiastically, my stomach still adrift. I wasn’t hungry.

I claim to be immune to stage fright, but having a big mouth doesn’t equal star potential. In fact, it can be exactly the opposite. Lately, our entire apartment and all of our significant others (oh, and Ernie) have become hooked on Fox’s American Idol. Somehow the show avoids the nauseating generic pop culture that most other Star-Making programs of late have engaged in, instead opting to lead with the contestants and their voices. On each show they sing a song… they can dance or smile if they want to, but really they’re just there to sing. Live. In front of over 10 million viewers. For the chance to be a superstar.

Lindsay and i are invariably amongst the first people into our building on Wednesday mornings, and as we both delve through endless boxes of records we talk about what songs we would choose to sing on teevee. Underneath all the laughter and bragging, i know that i wouldn’t make it. Even with the quality of my voice left wholly aside, i know that i could never walk out on stage and stand still – knowing that a number of eyes beyond my ability to count were on me. And so i settle for watching, for being nervous on their behalf, and for dreaming about being in their midst.

Blogathon is not a top rated teevee show… last year my hits for the 24 hours were in the thousands, but people who actually listened to my songs were probably only in the tens. However, this year looks like it’s shaping up to be a lot bigger than last year, and i really have no way of predicting how many people will visit my page or listen to what i have chosen to invest: a dozen of my most valuable possessions – my songs – plus another dozen covers of some of my popular favorites. In three days they will appear, one per hour, for thousands of people to sample and form opinions on. And my stomach is aflutter. 72 whopping hours left until i have to go live with my my first song and i already want to duck out the stage door and either be sick or hide.

Elise pointed out i have to record a song every three hours to get all 25 of them done by Saturday morning. I would like to point out that thanks to two very generous pledges i have now raised as much money for Planned Parenthood as i have spent on recording equipment for Saturday. Which is now 71 hours away.

I think i might be hungry, but i’m not sure. Back to work.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/07/85277890/