The live recording of “Me and Rufus, and Burnin’ Down the House” at the Tillamook Library didn’t come out too bad; I posted it unedited online on the “Wrabek’s Works in Progress” page (http://soundclick.com/bands/page_songinfo.cfm?bandID=681142&songID=7735760). It’ll do until I have something better (which I may never—that’s happened a lot). I had to use my singing mike for the recording (the instrument mike I’d brought had stopped working), so I had to position it pretty close to me to pick things up. Even with the volumes turned way, way up on the Tascam, my rhythm guitar tended to dominate, though the vocal was okay. Caught the bass, too, though Wayne’s lead guitar is a bit faint, and Dick’s harmonica didn’t come through at all.

Next time—I do want to do this again, with a different song—I think I’ll use the old 6-channel mixer, and three mikes, the singing mike for my voice and two instrument mikes trained on the harmonica and the amp of the lead guitar. Have to use the mixer for this because the Tascam only has one mike input (though you can dump it to two tracks). If I had someone operating the mixer (and that might be possible), they could boost the volume of the appropriate channels during the lead breaks. And we could get a pretty good product, I think. I like to involve people who have good ears in this process, because they can hear things I can’t.

Another new song—a throwaway, I think (though you never know). I got alerted to an article in a British paper that had a list of things you’re not supposed to write popular songs about: war, newborn babies, football, and the like. Some writers from Just Plain Folks added more. And the question had to be asked (by me)—why NOT write about those things? And (for good measure) could they maybe all go in the same song? After all, some of them do rhyme—“liposuction” and “breast reduction,” for instance.

The song got mostly written in the shower (and I take short showers). Just two verses, each with a chorus, then maybe a break and a final chorus. A love song, of course (yes, I really can use liposuction, dental hygeine, litter boxes, and breast reduction in a love song)—and definitely country music. Delivered in what some folks have called my “hangdog” country voice, it could actually sound sweet. The sort of thing people would be embarrassed to dance to, but would want to dance to anyway.

Though a song about the things you’re not supposed to write songs about is potentially a candidate for that 100-second Performing Songwriter video—it is, after all, a commentary on the state of the music business today—it’s probably too much of a conceptual leap. It was just fun. I do have a place where I could perform it, I think; I’m planning on playing at the Wild Goose in Ashland while I’m down in southern Oregon, and those folks have been most appreciative of my sleaziest songs. This one is probably something they’d expect of me.

I also sent off another song to the music publisher in California. She was asking the mailing list for Hallowe’en songs, and I just happen to have one—“Vampire Roumanian Babies.” It’s for a film, I think; if used, the song would be playing on a radio as background music at some point in the movie. I don’t have any illusions about it being precisely what the publisher’s looking for, but you never can tell. The lesson? Always have stuff reasonably professionally recorded you can send off at a moment’s notice. Just because opportunity doesn’t knock often doesn’t mean you shouldn’t always be prepared to answer.

I still need to collect a “base track” to take to southern Oregon on the Road Trip—the band won’t have the opportunity to record any more before I leave, because John’s too busy for a while with his new duties as the new Garibaldi city manager, but he’s got four tracks from the Failed Economy Show that he says came out decent, and I’ll pick from those.

Joe