For over a decade I waited. I waited till I had a perfect collection of songs. I waited to save up cash to rent a recording studio. I waited to find a drummer and bass player to appear. I waited till my musical skills were “ darn near perfect.” That time never came. No time, no money, no “dam perfect.” Then a friend lost a son in Iraqi war and I wrote a song, Savage Rain. After that, I decided to do work with what I had and record what I have so far. Life’s too busy to way for "darn near perfect" of anything.
This collection was recorded over a nine month period in blocks of time between work, family, chores: an hour before breakfast, midnight to 2a.m. on a Tuesday nights, thirty minutes before picking up the kids from school events or while my wife planted flowers in her gardens. Some of the lyrics were written years before and saved in a notebook or on scraps of paper waiting for a melody or rhythm to bring them to the surface. My inspiration, like all of us in search of our own creative outlets, came via personal experiences, current events, life changes or some sounds I heard during the day that stuck with me-- even practice sessions yielded welcome surprises.
As one example, the song, Dragonfly Visits Paris, is a song I now use when helping people develop their creative talents. I ask the person or group to read a paragraph describing what they might see if one was a Dragonfly visiting Paris for the day. After reading the text, they close their eyes and listen to the song, letting the mind's eye and ears wander Paris, thus bringing the city alive with images, smells, sounds and emotions not easily felt when only reading.
Seven of the nine songs were recorded outside a professional recording studio. I used an excellent tool--the Boss BR600 Digital Recorder equipped with omni-directional and condenser microphone options. To bring out more vibrant tones and chorus effects from the guitars, I occasionally plugged into my sweet Roland AC 60 PA system. My studio settings consisted of various rooms in our home or the back porch. Our “high tech reverb chambers/echoing devices” consisted of bathrooms, stairwells, hallways, singing into guitar sound holes and standing in square dining rooms. Percussion and additional instruments to support and accent acoustic six and twelve-string, nylon string and my favorite Stratocaster, ranged from fingernails on guitar tops, sink faucets, rain sticks, a dejemby, harmonica, glass slides, and the garage door opening at the perfect moment. On a few of the tracks I utilized a rhythm machine to mimic live concert sound to enhance my fun while playing “make believe” that Carlos Santana and Clapton invited me onstage to jam with them. Yeah, right, it could happen.
If you hear a rogue click, cough, buzz, snap, crackle pop, doink, screech, the furnace kick on, a train--you heard right. They’re all there and I left them in for two reasons: One, I’m couldn’t figure out how to edit them out, and two, the song they occurred in was the best of the bunch and I didn’t want to lose the energy and emotion I had expressed in the song.
I wish you the best on your own quest to work with what you got.
Russ Riendeau
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