One Saturday in the summer of 2004, the drummer for Little Yellow
Perfect took a wrong turn on his way to a gig in Berkeley and was never
Most bands in similar circumstances would throw up their hands and go
back to their day jobs as underpaid mouse jockeys and bike messengers.
In fact, that is exactly what happened. But while scouting the San
Francisco scene for a permanent drummer, Little Yellow Perfect embarked
on an ambitious project: write twenty songs in a year.
Late-night songwriting sessions fueled by red wine resulted in the
eviction of bassist Chris Stevens from his Western Addition flat. The
band fled to an unused basement in the nearby Presidio national park,
and began using digital recording technology as a songwriting tool.
"We used ProTools to construct songs we had never played live. That way
we could change arrangements at will, instead of being stuck with what
we had originally recorded," says guitarist and engineer Jason Bridges.
Singer and chief lyricist Logan was sent down the hall with headphones
and a notebook, then forced to defend his lyrics until everyone was
satisfied. "I can't say it was fun, and I'll fight them every time. But
putting my words through the LYP spanking machine always makes for
better lyrics," Logan says.
The band recruited drummer Mike Fritz after scouting him at a local
club. "He could keep girls dancing for three hours. With stamina like
that, he had to be in our band," says Stevens.
Fritz puts a different spin on his job: "I make sure these guys don't