Tuesday, September 07, 2004

A Letter to the Troops

Hey Guys,

It looks doubtful if we'll have an opportunity to rehearse - as a sextet, at least - prior to our soundcheck at Northsix. Not impossible, but doubtful. Here's where our commando training kicks in. We know the weapons, and we can load them blindfolded. During our debut set we'll sweep through each rhythm carefully, remembering our Black Ops exercises on cunning and stealth. When it is necessary to interrogate a rhythm, do so with clarity and discretion. If a song should prove unruly, murder first, and pose for human pyramid photos later. Our mission? Kill the known, knife all our assumptions in the throat. Don't think TLASILA, at least in terms of the recordings. Think beyond such surface distractions, to the core of the idea of the band: that music can travel in all dimensions, in all permutations, with no genre limitations, with thematic complexity and gut-pummeling intensity, the full dynamic range of emotional responses, all within the space of a single bloody song. We're going for 1950s Hollywood historical epic with thirty-foot faces stretched across the Cinerama screen, interspersed with quick flashes and reverse process shots from Pontecorvo's Battle of Algiers and Godard's Contempt. Don't be afraid.

After our WFMU session, we're going straight to the studio in Hoboken for our "official" recording session. We'll still be wound-up from the tour, fresh from the recording with Brian. If we sleep, and wait until the 20th, we'll lose the nervous energy and momentum. After we wrap everything up in Hoboken, we're officially off the hook, honorably discharged.

This is gonna be golden, lads.



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