Session

Nothing focuses the mind like session playing in a studio. Playing live you never pay much attention to slightly sloppy timing, less than perfect pitch and the odd fluffed note. In the studio everything has to be as near perfect as possible without becoming mechanical and losing soul. The pressure sits fairly heavy sometimes as time is money and the quicker you get a good take the sooner you can move on. Today I was at a home studio so there wasn't that time pressure but the song had some pretty interesting changes that took a bit of concentration to get right. As the track passed the instrumental break and entered the last quiet vocal section I knew I had cracked it. I played it out and despite the one fluff I made early on it was a good take. I wanted to go one more time but between the first and second take the guy was really pleased. The rough mix sounds good.

T-shirt

  Viola lee blues by Tcordastanley

I've got frustrated with the Internet recently. I go on, check my emails, check my Facebook, read my blog subscriptions. I do this every morning. 10 minutes later I'm sat staring at the screen thinking that there should be something else I should be doing. Oh yeah, shopping! All that technology just so that everyone can shop for anything, anywhere in the world. I mostly don't get it except when you come across someone doing something very cool in an artisan manner. This T-shirt arrived safely and lovingly wrapped from Patrick.

Thanks a lot Patrick, I love it.

The Blues

Looks like some melancholy bluesy jazz but I was in fact slappling the hell out of it with the Rock and Roll band. We're now on to our sixth drummer in about three years and this one is more sturdy than the previous ones so hopefully we'll get a head of steam up and do a few gigs.

This picture was one of a set that was taken by Johnny testing his new works camera out. Tres Noir.

Doghouse

Replayed in slow motion again and again I feel the cold, flat steel of the Swiss Army Knife as it efficiently glides through the flesh of my finger end. The blood was slower to arrive than the cold sweat but when it came it was sufficiently copious to tear me from my reverie (if you can call a waking nightmare that) and get me to hospital. Once the nurse had steri-stripped me back together and I had got my head around the fruits of my stupidity I started to compile the long list of things I could no longer do. Soon enough a few things on the list rose to the surface as things I really was going to miss. Two days ago I tentatively returned to slapping the doghouse bass. The damaged digit is on the finger-board hand so placing it carefully I could get away with playing again albeit a little stilted. A major problem will be unlearning the 3 finger method I've developed in the absence of my first finger. Walking basslines might take a bit longer especially if you want them played in tune but I'm happy to be back playing again.

Take it to the bridge, take it to the bridge, take it to the bridge.

Taken from the bridge motherfunker