me and pretty

Almost 2 years ago, I briefly met a gentleman named Bernard Purdie. He was playing a show with Cut Chemist here in Toronto. I shook his hand. To most that doesn't mean much, yet what many don't know, is that "Pretty" Purdie is the most recorded drummer of all time. I really don't need to sit here and list his credentials, because if you have the time you should do that yourself. The list is staggering (he's recorded on over 4,000 albums).

I came across this video earlier today and it simply reminded me of "the passion" (direct Lizard King quote). It reminded me that it's not the task to learn or love something; it's the love. As I sat and watched Purdie simply tap the drum skins, I remember that this is what passion looks like. A love for doing what you do. It's that kind of passion that makes me believe in everything I love doing. I believe true passion is not giving a shit about the outcome, but more just looking at your objective and jumping into bed with it, with only time on your side.

Go have fun doing what you love everyone, and maybe watch a little "Pretty" while you're at it.

i sweat

I'm all done my drum recordings.

Am I pleased with the parts? For now, yes.

Am I happy it's over? Fuck no.

We stretched the recording session over two days at the Ontario Institute of Audio Recording Technologies. Since we recorded two songs with some young blood there over a year ago, we were pretty familiar with the studio space. This time around we recorded in a separate room from the control center, which was nice for me because I didn't feel as if I was under a microscope the entire time from everyone watching. Just me and the Lodge.

I thought I'd take this opportunity to explain a few things seen in the second recording diary.



The "acoustic demo's" seen being recorded at the very beginning of the video are strictly for my benefit and will never make the actual recording. They are just for me to play along with and are recorded to a metronome.

I brought six shirts this time mostly for jokes, and for the fact that it's hotter than hell in that room and I play with a little bit of impact to say the least. And I sweat. When I'm drumming, oh boy do I sweat.

What get's me most is when people come up to me after shows, hug me or touch my back, and become disgusted by the amount of sweat on me. What, are you fucking surprised? What do you think would happen to you after an hour of using every extremity to it's peak stamina? Do you think you'd break a sweat after pounding the shit out of something while sitting under KFC heat lamps, on stage, in a 20-plus degree club? You're damn right you would. So please, try not to be surprised when you come in for a hug and I warn you that your clothes may not come out the same once the embrace is over. Because drumming is a sweaty procedure. Trust me.

I should say something about Birdman.
Birdman can simply be described as a "road game" or something to be played amongst close friends. You know that childhood game where you'd make a ring with your fingers and if the person looked into it you get to punch them? It's a more instense version of that.
Basically, if you make eye-contact with someone who's giving you the Birdman face, you have to lay flat on your back - no matter where you are. On the road, in your kitchen, in a restaurant, at the mall: it's all fair game. Meme, BK and I are all really good and crafty at it. It just takes some creativity and a sense of humor and you're off. I think it's hilarious, because it's like the feeling a black person gets when slamming down a Domino, except anyone can play.

The 3 broken sticks? I can't explain that either, because I've been breaking sticks like crazy lately. Even at our cottage show in Kincardine I broke four during one set. Strange.

"2 really tired guys". They went out drinking the night before. Colin barfed under a table at Joe Kool's and I laughed really hard when I heard that. I sided on staying in for a nights sleep.

The fact that the 6 tracks that needed recording was done in 5 hours was a two-sided effort. On my behalf, I was very ready to record and even impressed myself at the speed in which the takes were completed, even though most of the songs were more difficult than the previous recording session. More importantly, our producer Mikey T and recording assistant Jeff worked with a notable expedience that did not go unnoticed. I can honestly say I was thoroughly impressed by their diligence and input they put forth. They met my every demand (such as cue's, playbacks, and coffee breaks) and were patient during equipment change-overs. If there were a manly way to send flowers, those boys would have gardens from me by now.

At the end, the "misunderstanding" was Mike coming in for a hug, which I assumed was a chest-bump. Needless to say, I chest-bumped him and we had a good laugh.

ps. the line from Mike at the end was a Care Bears reference. If that doesn't ring a bell, nothing will.

hue video diary one

due to the lack of posts, i'll justify myself by putting this video up

race to sleep

On any given day I couldn't care less about telling stories about dreams, or hearing about peoples dreams. It's never really interested me, and why should it? It never happened, and probably never will. Although some dreams are just hilarious, why should other people care about my or your subconscious? This is probably the same reason why I never read fiction novels. I crave knowledge, and although I have a very vivid imagination, I don't really put a lot of interest into things that will never occur. Is that lame? Maybe.

Well, today is not one of those days because I have two dreams I simply have to get off my chest.

The other night I dreamt that I was walking the streets with Bike. It was later in the evening and we were just out for a stroll. I noticed one woman really checking me out and following us. This woman looked exactly like Jen from Hells Kitchen.
Yes, that Jen. Except she was a TTC employee and on her name tag it read CLING. I have no idea what that means, but moving along. We talked and she was being really touchy and inappropriate. I threatened to call the TTC office and report her behavior, but she was persistent. We began walking quickly through some mall and she was running after us! I was honestly terrified. We thought we'd lost her in some backyard, until I got smoked in the head by a can of Five-Alive. It was CLING, once again.
The strangest part about this dream wasn't really about sex-hungry TTC employees, but rather citrus fruit. Every time we thought we'd outrun her, I was assaulted by a flying piece of citrus fruit. That is the jist of that dream.

Now, the next dream is more of a personal nightmare. Some very close friends, especially my band, know about this dream because it scares the shit out of me. I have it about once a month and it never gets any better. I dream that my drums slide away from me while performing in front of large groups of people.

Basically, try to imagine playing the drums on top of a sheet of ice and every time you hit something it slides further and further away from you. Not only this, but everything is at really strange heights. Cymbals will be nearly eight feet in the air and my snare drum will be five feet to the left. I never play my drum kit, and something terrible always happens. During last nights dream I just gave up during a performance and decided sing a solo version of Oh Come All Ye Faithful acapella, except with tonnes of delay on my vocals, which sounded terrible and nobody clapped.

I wish I could express how much I hate these dreams. The funny thing is, I've experienced things like this when playing in reality. I remember when opening for The Spades last year, my kick drum (the big one) slid around the stage to the point where I couldn't even produce sound from it because it wasn't attached to the pedal. I would have to pull this 50-pound beast back to me at every chance, even mid-song.
And that is that.