#62: Here Comes the Zephyr - 1

Recording Monochrome - 1

[Note. As I said last week, we’ve begun work on a new record, tentatively entitled Monochrome. This post is the first in a series which will (loosely) document our progress. Today’s post was supposed to have been a mix of paid and unpaid material. But I don’t know how to do that, from a technical point of view. So then I thought I’d send out two posts: one for free subscribers and the other for paid, the only difference being that the latter would get access to some audio. But that option seemed messy and confusing. So I’m back to square one: one post, no pay wall. I really need to figure this out. In any case, enjoy.]

Pampa mosquitos

The project began with a drive back to Buenos Aires to pick up gear and foodstuffs: a bass (guitar, not fish), cables of every conceivable format, a keyboard, one dozen phyllo ricotta-spinach triangles (food, not percussion), sundry microphones and stands, habanero sauce, guitar strings, one tape measure (for percussion, not measuring), various adaptors (without which everything would come to a grinding halt), two guitar amplifiers, a bunch of other stuff too tedious to name, and coconut milk for chicken saag. I know: traditional Punjabi saagwala does not call for coconut milk. But that’s how this record’s going to roll. So with the VW loaded up I turned left at the highway and headed due south. Arriving at the studio at dusk, I was greeted by swarms of mosquitos (see pic above) and the aroma of distant cattle.

Team Argentina: Martín Shindell & David Bensimon

Setting up for an extended recording session is a kind of nesting: the uncasing of the instruments, the hanging of the blankets to dampen the sound, the running of the cables, constructing a make-shift vocal booth, rearranging the furniture. In this case I spent an inordinate amount of time choosing foundations for the speakers. I mean books. The house is full of them. But they have to be the right books. Of course, from a technical point of view all that matters is that their surface area is large enough to accommodate the speakers’ four feet, that they be stable and have a neutral effect on the frequencies, and that they be of a precise height and distance apart. Any number of books would’ve fit the bill. But I’m superstitious. It took forever, but I finally settled on volume one of W.H. Hudson’s Birds of La Plata and a friend’s copy of Roget’s International Thesaurus (for the left side), and volume two of Birds of La Plata and Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace on the right. No, I have not read Infinite Jest. And that’s precisely why it made the cut. I’m warming up.

The Hudson volumes are the same width. However Infinite Jest is slightly wider than Roget (and just about everything else ever written), so I needed something slim for the right side to even things out. Brigit Pegeen Kelly’s Song was the perfect fit. That book never fails, ever. Later, David Bensimon, who as engineer and co-producer is the person whose ears most need be aligned with the speakers, wanted them a bit higher. The Oxford Book of English Verse (the 1918 Arthur Quiller-Couch edition) was added to the left side. I don’t recall what got added to the right.

David Bensimon en posición

I took it as a good omen that David chose the Quiller-Couch. Sir Arthur occupies a special place in my heart. That Oxford edition was the first book of poetry I ever bought (sometime in my early 20s). But that’s not all. There was that episode at the Church of St. Fimbarrus, in Fowey, Cornwall, UK.

On tour with the wonderful Show of Hands, I learned only moments before hitting the stage for my opening set that Fowey had been Sir Arthur’s home. Three songs into the set and grasping about for some stage banter, I thought I’d mention that copy of The Oxford Book of English Verse and how happy I was to be visiting the old stomping grounds of its esteemed editor. But, clueless Yank that I am, I pronounced the second half of his surname as one would the article of furniture, unaware that in Cornwall the surname Couch does not rhyme with pouch but with pooch. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how I came to stand corrected by eight hundred Cornish men and women exclaiming vehemently and in perfect unison, Cooch! But I digress.

The dining/control room still felt somewhat inhospitable, so I brought in a comfortable chair. It was immediately commandeered by Clavelito, our studio mascot. He is not a pooch. He’s a cat. I think I’ve mentioned him before. In any case, he had to be ejected from the red chair, which he took in stride, ending up on the couch (rhyming with slouch) across from my station. Here he is, showing a profound lack of understanding of what a microphone pop filter is for…

Clavelito facing Northwest

For no particular reason, we began with “Here Comes the Zephyr”. The tracking started with percussion, which I played to a click track. I then added two electric guitars and a vocal track. Listening back, it seemed to us that the song needed some harmonic and rhythmic glue. So I went back and added a strummy acoustic and a tenor guitar.

At the end of two days the thing taking form. There was one final addition: another vocal part, an idea for a lyric over a coda. I thought I knew what it was all about. But, as often happens in the studio, ideas appear unexpectedly. Perhaps it’s the extra bit of pressure, heightened concentration or both. In any case, that second vocal part morphed into something that changes significantly the way I think about the song (lyrics below). Clavelito was very helpful as always, sleeping through everything (except when he got up to face the other direction).

---

Here Comes the Zephyr Rough 26-5

---

This audio is still very much in process. It is not a mix. It’s not even a demo. I’m still searching. There are countless things that need fixing or replacing. Some of them are just flubs or dubious choices. Others have to do with the bigger picture: feel, groove, momentum, instrumentation. I’ll know it when I hear it. In any case, as provisional as this is, I’d be grateful it if we could try to maintain a spirit of suspension when it comes to this fledgling.

Finally, Clavelito has been promoted from mere Cat to Studio Cat. In recognition of this elevated status, we’ve renamed him Sir Clavelito Couch-Chiller. Here he is preparing to sing…

Clavelito facing Southeast

Here Comes the Zephyr

the Century condemned
the holdouts were moved out
to other arrangements 
sidewalks and tents
the City stepped in, 
financing fell through
lawsuits ensued 
and that’s where we are
now here comes the Zephyr
                                             where?

Maggie and me
we found us a hollow
a curve in the tracks 
by an old piñon tree
it isn’t so bad 
we’re used to the rumble
the clickity clack 
of the chemical train
and here comes the Zephyr
                                             where?

slow as it goes 
things can get awkward
nobody knows 
how they should act
couples in sleepers 
tighten their curtains
up in the bubble 
they take in the sun

all of our laundry 
is hanging on branches
or pinned to the chainlink 
fence around free
today I found these 
aluminum beach chairs
the things people toss 
you would not believe
and here comes the Zephyr
                                             where?
and here comes the Zephyr
                                             where?
and here comes the Zephyr
                                             where?
where do we go?