Playing
I've been playing alot lately with:
Brendan
Felipe
Alex
and Joe.
Last evening, Joe and I rocked it till late, drank a 12'er of PBR and some Jim Beam and diets, then went outside to watch drag racing on Kinzie St.
Joe and I used to play all the time before he left for Joe-pan. We played in his apartment on North Ave on thursday nights with the bay windows open. People would stop, a few would clap or cheer. Hey, if we didn't sound good, at least we were enthusiastic.
At the space last night, we returned to our strengths...solid phrasing and washed-out, gauzy tones over tight, simple-fast rhythms with standard-strength fills. Crescendo, decrescendo, crescendo. 3 measures standard rhythm, 1 measure small fill, repeat 3 times, then large fill. The best part is that both of us have improved alot since we played a year ago.
It sounds like we think about the phrasing and plan it when I explain it that way, but we don't. That's the beauty of it. Years of listening and playing rock gives you the ear for the construction of it. It's simple to begin with, and even when you're droning you can steer it back to the spine of 4/4 time and 3 measure +1.
It was about 12:30 in the morning when we popped outside for a smoke and some fresh air. I watched as a lowered Civic hatchback screamed past Karlov St. We went down to the corner and saw about 20 cars lined up, 10 on each side of the street like spectators, their headlights beaming like shining eyes on the racers. The contestants are the center of their attention as they reverse into their slots with a high whine. Then revving, screeching, and flying past. The racers win or lose these drags within the first 2 seconds. If you don't get a good takeoff from first and throw it into second before the other guy, you're done. As they would turn around to go back, the drivers would shoot us hard looks, sizing us up.
It's hard to tell if the competitors are hostile toward each other or not. It's more like a club atmosphere from our vantage. After a race, the contestants will sometimes pull up next to each other, patrol-car style, and talk to each other over the sound of their tuned mufflers. Some laugh and chide out their window as they engine brake back to 1st.
Police usually come out to break things up. It's a pack: 4 squads and a Tac unit. Last night, though, Joe and I watched over the ends of our beer bottles as lonely squads slithered through the side streets around Kinzie, sleepily and with no apparent purpose.
Passionate kisses to nights like those. They won't last forever.
Brendan
Felipe
Alex
and Joe.
Last evening, Joe and I rocked it till late, drank a 12'er of PBR and some Jim Beam and diets, then went outside to watch drag racing on Kinzie St.
Joe and I used to play all the time before he left for Joe-pan. We played in his apartment on North Ave on thursday nights with the bay windows open. People would stop, a few would clap or cheer. Hey, if we didn't sound good, at least we were enthusiastic.
At the space last night, we returned to our strengths...solid phrasing and washed-out, gauzy tones over tight, simple-fast rhythms with standard-strength fills. Crescendo, decrescendo, crescendo. 3 measures standard rhythm, 1 measure small fill, repeat 3 times, then large fill. The best part is that both of us have improved alot since we played a year ago.
It sounds like we think about the phrasing and plan it when I explain it that way, but we don't. That's the beauty of it. Years of listening and playing rock gives you the ear for the construction of it. It's simple to begin with, and even when you're droning you can steer it back to the spine of 4/4 time and 3 measure +1.
It was about 12:30 in the morning when we popped outside for a smoke and some fresh air. I watched as a lowered Civic hatchback screamed past Karlov St. We went down to the corner and saw about 20 cars lined up, 10 on each side of the street like spectators, their headlights beaming like shining eyes on the racers. The contestants are the center of their attention as they reverse into their slots with a high whine. Then revving, screeching, and flying past. The racers win or lose these drags within the first 2 seconds. If you don't get a good takeoff from first and throw it into second before the other guy, you're done. As they would turn around to go back, the drivers would shoot us hard looks, sizing us up.
It's hard to tell if the competitors are hostile toward each other or not. It's more like a club atmosphere from our vantage. After a race, the contestants will sometimes pull up next to each other, patrol-car style, and talk to each other over the sound of their tuned mufflers. Some laugh and chide out their window as they engine brake back to 1st.
Police usually come out to break things up. It's a pack: 4 squads and a Tac unit. Last night, though, Joe and I watched over the ends of our beer bottles as lonely squads slithered through the side streets around Kinzie, sleepily and with no apparent purpose.
Passionate kisses to nights like those. They won't last forever.
posted by Roadsalt at
5:28 PM
2 Comments
