It's so plainly obvious I'm not even going to explain what I'm talking about.
Anyway, if I ever came into a lot of money and a proportionate amount of free time, I'd be broke almost immediately. I wouldn't go on benders, or party, or do anything interesting - I'd pay my drummer to carry out the most elabourate, stupid, and pointless pranks ever devised. My millions for about 20 minutes of laughter. Well, here goes:
The Fake Crab Prank: The drummer would go into a supermarket and purchase a single package of fake crab meat. He would then go outside and proceed to eat the meat. He'd wait for 15 minutes, and return slightly tipsy. He'd buy another pack, eat it, wait outside for 15 minutes, and return again quite tipsy. He'd do this over and over, acting progressively drunker until the supermarket cuts him off and launches an investigation into fake crab meat.
The Birthday Burger Prank: There's a McDonalds in Hamilton, Ontario with a fireplace and a little lounge area. The drummer would order one single plain hamburger. He'd pay with dirty coins. He'd even be 2 cents short, but they'd let him off. He would then, all alone, go sit by a table in front of the fireplace with his hamburger. He'd unwrap the hamburger and have it in the centre of the table. He'd take a small candle out of his pocket, stick it in the middle of the hamburger, light it, and sing happy birthday to himself. He'd eat it, all alone, and leave with a smile on his face.
24 Hour Wal Mart Prank: I'd make the drummer run around a 24 hour Wal Mart, oh, a half dozen times at 3am. Or at least until he's all sweaty and out of breath. Then I'd cut his arm. Not deep, just bloody. He'd smear it on his shirt, then try to wash it. Then bandage his arm. Then walk into the Wal Mart, all tired, bloody and sweaty, and get him to buy a shovel, a big thing of bleach, a bag of lime, and three bags of dirt. He'd throw $200 in bloody 20's at the cashier, throw the stuff into a cart, and run out with it at full speed.
The Costco Shit Prank: I'd make the drummer go into Costco/Sam's Club or whatever. He'd get a cart. He'd load in a half dozen packages of toilet paper, a whole box of spray air fresheners, some mops, and at least 25 packages of diarrhea relief. He'd then go into the lineup, looking like he's been crying, with sad eyes staring at the floor. When he gets to the cashier and (s)he asks him "How are you?", he sadly smiles, immediately looks panicked and starts looking around, RUNS at full speed towards the exit/washroom, and half way there, stops dead in his tracks. He slowly bends over with a disgusted face, and tucks his pants into his socks. He then proceeds to slowly waddle out of the store, groaning with each step.
The Chinese Buffet Prank: I'd make the drummer arrive at a random Chinese buffet hours before the staff arrive. He'd wait at the front door for the place to open. He'd wait patiently all by himself. The employees would see him waiting there as they arrived. When it opens, he'd rush it and stay there all day, until they close between lunch and dinner. While they're closed, he'd wait outside until they open again for dinner. He'd pay again, go back in, and stay there all night until they close. He'd then wait until he was literally asked to leave. Oh yeah; he'd do this every day for three weeks. Then he'd never return again.
The Birthday Celebration Prank: I'd book a 500-person banquet hall. I'd hire 50 staff; a buffet; security; a DJ who gives out prizes; people walking around giving out hors d'oeuvres; open bar; a camera crew, both film and photo; an emcee. Like... plan the biggest Hollywood party ever. I'd have a huge, long dinner table set up, with the drummer, whose birthday this party is celebrating, will be seated, complete with birthday hat. Absolutely NOBODY would show up. People trying to crash the party/cheer him up will be forcably removed from the party since they aren't on the guest list. The drummer would just sit there at the head of the table. He'd occasionally go to the bar, the buffet, the DJ table; he'd make a music request periodically, and dance by himself. And I'd book the party for about 5 hours.
So yeah, there's a tome of shit I'd do if I had the time and money to do it. I giggle just thinking about it.
Now that I've gotten the attention of random teenage UGers and the confused looks of my regular readers, I'll continue on with what this blog is REALLY about.
This last weekend was a good one. Took another swing at the ol' battle of the bands scheme, and I was successful. I managed to trick a whole lot of people to come and see us play, and we had a great time. I took an attempt at being a showman (or more accurately a caveman) and it went well. Yes, my sunglasses (which were prescription, as my contact lenses didn't arrive) kept sliding down my face and I looked like some sort of old lady, but that was fine.
We won the battle, and should have enough studio time to finish our debut masterpiece, called
Thank You. Now Die
So yes, thought some people would be interested. And I'm still DYING to get more blog views than those irritating teenage girls.
I really want to step up our game and I've come to the realization that my band isn't visually striking in any way. Flea is one of the ugliest people I've ever seen but manages to flail around like the asshole he is (read: showing up late to a golf tournament with no clubs, shoes, or shirt and demanding a cut of every Music Man sold), so I'm not concerned about my lack of prettyboyness. Smartass black T-Shirts and jeans/black pants is pretty standard.
Anyway, I was thinking of donning a proper Scottish kilt (my mother was born in Glasgow, and you wouldn't tell that by looking at me). And not a giggly, crossdressing kilt - a real badass kilt. And then I'll ratchet up the intensity and be thefitz onstage instead of the actual me (which is thefitz who takes a few more breaths between sentences). I'll get the socks, too. The sporan notsomuch as it'll probably smash the shit out of my bass. I'll wear it under my shirt as opposed to over it. There's something about a black T-Shirt, sunglasses, and a kilt that makes me feel like such a badass (Roddy Piper maybe?). And if I have spare money, maybe I'll see if I can get a kilt in the colour of the Maple Leafs to match a jersey.
I was also considering one of those Rasta hats with a lot of fake dreadlocks if the kilt thing is too campy.
I'd also like the guitar player to dress up like a shyster - black slacks, black sports coat, white dress shirt, and a skinny tie. He'd nail that look. He likes that idea and that's pretty much a lock if we decide to pursue stage gimmicks.
The drummer needn't a stage gimmick, but I think he should wear jeans, a longsleeve black sweater with the sleeves rolled up, and a touque at all times. His name is Rani Saad which we pronounce Ronnie Sad, and I like to say he's the saddest man in the city. If you look up sad in the phone book, you get this guy. That's pretty solid.
So, in conclusion, that's what we're thinking - I either want to don a proper kilt and socks with a t-shirt/Leafs jersey or a baggy rasta hat with fake dreads. I want the guitar player to wear black slacks, black sport coat, white shirt, and a skinny tie. I want the drummer to wear a black sweater, jeans, and a touque.
I'll be called Fitzy. The drummer is Ronald Y. Saad. The guitar player will be Rek Hatred. It's pronounced Rick - his name's Derek, and since you pronounce the second half of his name 'Rick', we just chopped off the first two letters.
So, what do we think? I'm being 100% serious here (100% here-ious). If you have any legit gimmick suggestions, let us hear it.
However if it has anything to do with grapes, I'm not interested. The Stones never dressed like rocks. The Beatles never dressed like bugs. Pink Floyd never dressed like overrated stonery shit .
At my last gig, I noticed that my Jazz bass' static hum from the concentric treble knob (the soundboard tapes are on my band's UG profile if curious) was really getting out of control. It's always sizzled like that, since the day I bought it, and at first I thought it was the sound every active bass makes when the treble's cranked. It didn't really bug me that much as it didn't seem to be audible while I was playing, but that last gig made me realize it was really time to check it out.
Let's just say thank God I bought the thing new - that lifetime warranty's being put to use. As it turns out, there's nothing structurally wrong with the bass at all - everything's soldered perfectly and it's put together like it should be. It seems like there might be physically faulty electronics - my guess is the preamp (panning pickups changes nothing, and it's directly related to the treble knob). The shop I bought it isn't an authorized Fender service centre, so it's going to be shipped to Cambridge (Ontario) to a big service centre there to get looked at. It seems that this problem is somewhat common, and the dude also mentioned that the last time it happened, the dudes at the Cambridge place had no luck fixing it and had to get replacement electronics. That's probably what'll have to happen to mine. I just hope I get my bass back and in working order before my gig on November 21st.
My friend had to buy some strings at Long and McQuade yesterday, so I decided to tag along. I've been looking for a fuzz pedal for a long time, and they have a good selection of pedals. I was playing some basses, shooting the shit, and when I joined my buddy in line to buy his strings, I noticed a used, new-looking Bootzilla bass wah/fuzz for a whopping $69. Hey, I want a fuzz pedal! So I grabbed it and immediately slammed it on the desk. It's a heavy pedal, and it caused $25,000 damage to the desk, the floor, the ground, the core of the Earth, and China.
I really, really don't like my 105Q. Yeah, the low-pass filter is KEY, but the bloody pedal just sounds like an envelope filter. It's so swishy and I don't like it. I managed to use it for a cool effect during the chorus of The Bluze live, but I just couldn't get a good wah sound out of it. There's nothing vocal about the 105Q.
Anyway, the Bootzilla is just as wah-y as you can get, and that's good. I can totally tell the difference the low-pass filter makes with the 105Q, as the Bootzilla can get a wee bit thin-ish, but I just boost the volume to compensate. I wish the low/mid/high spots were spec'd differently, as I think a mix between the low and mid settings would be the perfect wah. Between half way and toe in low mode is totally useless, while the very toe part of mid is harsh when you play up the neck.
Speaking of harsh, here's my #1 gear woe - my cabs. My Peavey is 50W too underpowered and likes to fart out when I play a low B, C, or Db (although I may have remedied it). I had the opportunity to get a Carvin 18 for dirt cheap had I just been patient, but no dice. I kinda regret the Peavey because of it. Might replace the speaker and spraypaint "FITZY" on the grille or something. But my lack of love of my sub cab is nothing new.
Here's the harshness - my Eden Nemesis cab. It's a 350W 4 ohm cab I can carry with 1 hand... the abso-fucking-lutely best match for one power amp of my SWR I can think of... on paper. That cab is just perfect for me, with 1 exception: the tweeter. There's the harshness.
There's no horn attenuator at all - it's full on all the time, and if you don't like it, too bad. For clean tones, it's set at the ideal level; you get all the sparkle and shine to come through. Yeah, when you pop hard, it can give you a jolt, but that's to be expected. However, throw on some effects (namely those ones messing with higher frequencies), and the thing will slice your eardrums.
I've managed to tame my distortion so that it doesn't hack me to death, but that Bootzilla is having a helluva time. I won't even bother using the high setting, as that's like a toothpick in the ear. The mid setting is great, it really is, but at the toe position at decent volume it's almost painful. I've winced a few times when playing it. Shut my eyes, the whole nine. GAAH! If I could just roll back the tweeter a little...
I also put roundwounds on my '51 Precision... and unleashed a demon. Remember that cute sounding happy little '51 Precision with flatwounds? Well he got fucked in the ass. Yeah, I just said that. Deal with it.
That bass is now in-line with the sound of my other 2 basses, with a bit more evenness, if not smaller sounding. It really sounds like a cross between a Jazz neck PU and a Precision. It's now a rockin' machine... but do I want that? Don't I already have 2? I still have my flatwounds, just in case. Even though it sounds nasty and very un-happy and smiley (like it used to), maybe would I get more use out of it? I need to tinker and get used to it. My rig sounds funny... could it be the Bootsy pedal eating my tone? Or the fact I've slept 13 hours this week?
The Bootsy fits JUST SO on my pedalboard. Those side knobs are going to be knocked around a good bit, but more than likely it'll be the fuzz, not the wah itself (and the fuzz is fun, but the quintessence of ear-spliting). It'd have been really cool to be able to have 2 wahs on my board - one for traditional wah-wah (Bootsy) and one for that space sound during The Bluze (105Q). With some significant rearranging, I'll consider it. It'd involve cutting a segment out of the plywood part of my pedalboard. We'll see.
EDIT: Actually, there was enough space for my wah - but sideways. Yeah, it'll be tricky to use a wah sideways, but hey - it's there!
Have you ever been searching and searching for something, just to realize that the one you love has been in front of you all along? That's how I feel.
I've ignored my 3" wide Levi's leather strap for too long. I stopped using it in favour of these fancy neoprene straps, and I could never get the height right. I played the last few gigs with a strap that's been higher than I've been using, and it's been pretty good, but on a whim, I dropped my strap low, low, low (my main axe is still with the rest of my gear at my guitar player's). I spent an hour trying to raise the height until it was perfect, and I could never find a balance. Then, on a whim, I picked up that old leather ($90) strap that I was saving for my fretless. Fucking PERFECT height. The same height it's been all along. I then put old roundwounds on my Precision and was wondering what the fuck I was thinking with .105-.55 flats. The G string of a Roto RS66 set and the D, A, E of a Roto PSD99 set.
So, the moral of the story is, more profile visits please. I just can't compete with these 5 word blogs saying "I have a new place."
Well, whaddaya know? Over 10,000 profile views. The haters must be spinning in their soon-to-be graves. It's an amazing accomplishment, considering I'm over 17, male, and a bass player. And my friends list isn't quite as expansive some of the other folks, even though my profile views might trump theres.
Not exactly sure what attracts the folks, as my blog views pale in comparison. But I'm glad you like the profile and hope I can keep whatever keeps you coming for 10,000 more.
I've been waiting until I was inspired to write this blog, but I figure that as soon as the fingers start moving, we'll have something here. It's been way too long, but here it is. The (potentially) most controversial chapter in this Gospel. My passionate points of view do not end with bass related miscellany, I assure you. I've made no apologies for what I've had to say before, and don't think for one fucking second I'm going to scale back now, even though I'm about to say things that many Gospel regulars (and musicians in general, even though few outside the bass forum read these) will take very, very personally.
I'd like to be clear on a few things before we munch on details here - drugs are a nasty fucking business and there's not one single fucking person who isn't aware of the dire consequences. I have absolutely no, as in ZERO pity for ANYBODY who died from complications of recreational or many prescribed drugs. Absolutely not. You take a chemical to make yourself superficially feel better for a little while, you run the risk of it killing you. Period. If you die because of it, that's too fucking bad. Addictions? Too late. It's not their addictive abuse that killed them - it was when they started out, just wanting to feel good (or nothing) for a while.
Really, it's not that complicated. When people fuck bareback to completion and pregancy or STDs result, that's too bad and you should have seen it coming. You deserve the consequences. Same with drugs. In my typical style I'd list names and in detail go over how I don't care that they're dead. However, since it applies to... every person, there's no point, really. You get it already. They deserved what happened. When you play with fire, you get burned.
Now, can we get to what I really wanted to fucking talk about here? Pot. Weed. Chronic. Ganja. Whatever the fuck you morons call it. There's a million fucking names and I'm not going to list them all.
OK, another clarification: if you don't consider weed a drug, go kill a cop. I'd say 'go kill yourself', but I'd rather you get nailed in the ass by a 400lbs skinhead named Rufus for the rest of your life. It's a fucking drug. Get over it. If you mention medicinal pot or Amsterdam, I insist you stick your T-bird up your ass and bend over. That way, the neck dive will be literal.
Man, there's just so much shit I want to say, but I can't really think of a coherent way to cover it all. It's like 10 people trying to go through a doorway at once. Or just me.
First, I'll talk about WHY I don't smoke pot, and then why I hate it.
Let's cut the crap here. As a reader of most, if not all of my articles, you know I say some stupid fucking shit. I can't possibly spout any more stupid shit, really, and for that reason I don't bother with pot. And let's face it, do I look like a motherfucker who needs the munchies to you? If I look like I could use some junk food to you, you're running a widescreen resolution on a full-screen monitor. Simple, really. It's illegal. Not legal. Dig? Go, go ahead and argue law with me - I'll deal with you fucks later. If I ever want to get fucked up, I drink. If anybody finds this (or will find this) hypocritical, I'll also deal with you shortly.
Now, why do I hate pot? Why can't I just let it be? Simple: I hate the people. Granted, not ALL the pot smokers, but enough of them that I can generalize without fear of nitpickers (again, we'll get to you fuckers). Those mellow pot-smokers are easy for me to get along with, and I do. But you know of whom I speak. The Cheech and Chong/Pineapple Express crowd. The "oh my God, this is some good shit!" crowd. The... quintessential pot smokers. I fucking hate you. I really, really, really fucking hate you.
I'll try not to get to specific and personal with people, but there are 2 types of smokers - ones you can't really tell are stoned, and ones you aren't sure why I haven't killed them yet. I'm not talking about the former - I'm talking about the latter. The latter will be referred to as "pot smokers" from now on.
You are the most annoying, obnoxious, and intolerable bastards I have ever had to deal with. You don't shut the fuck up. You say everything that comes to your mind, no matter how insignificant what you have to say is. You fuckers find everything funny - and sure, when all of you are stoned, it's a big laugh. To those who aren't stoned, you're purposeless. Let me paint you a picture - this one time, I was watching some bullshit movie with 2 friends. One was high out of his fucking mind. The high one asked the other one to bass him a plate that was in front of him. Now, common sense would say that the straight friend would reach forward, pick up the plate with his left hand, rotate 90 degrees to the left, and pass the plate to the stoner. For whatever reason, the straight dude grabbed the plate with his right hand, rotated right 270 degrees, and passed the stoner the plate. Strange, yes. The stoner laughed, and I'm not exaggerating, for two and a half hours. Hysterical, uncontrollable laughter. For two and a half hours, he would point and explain why that was funny. Over and over and over. He'd insult the dude, go on about how stupid he was, and explain the situation.
For fucking two fucking and a fucking half fucking fucking hours fucking.
Non fucking stop.
Why didn't I just... leave my own living room? I hope you don't expect an answer.
All the pot smokers I've dealt with have had similar reactions to the drug. Sheer, unadulterated fucking idiocy. I can't fucking stand it. This same dude smoked every day, all day for four months. No school, no real outings besides getting food or watching a movie. Pot, school work, video games. What the fucking shit? What kind of existance is that? The smell gets everywhere (I have an impossibly keen sense of smell, for whatever reason). I hate it. I would rather die a million deaths than be like that. I don't need a fucking drug to be loud and obnoxious.
I wanted to join a Facebook group that was anti-weed, but when I entered it, there were a million threads. All by non members. Pot smoking non members. They were complaining about how we have no right to complain, how people do it and it's their business, and how the downsides don't exist. Complaining that we should shut down the group. We're all assholes. I didn't join. The group would make me more pissed off at pot smokers. Obnoxious fuckers, really. Tell people to mind they're own business but wouldn't do that if their lives depended on it. Do whatever you want as long as it's not affecting my beliefs.
Some say that pot makes music sound better and food taste better. One might remember a thread about playing live stoned. Anyway, if anybody thinks ANYTHING is better on pot, fuck you. Read it again. Fuck you. It doesn't make fucking SHIT better. It lowers your expectations. That's all. Chips taste like chips. Water tastes like water, but when you're thirsty it's heaven - when you're at the point where ANYTHING will taste good.
I cannot fucking STAND the culture and accessories that surround the drug. I know friends that are only friends because of weed. All they do is get together and smoke. End of. Bullshit. I cannot stand the weed jargon; the millions of ways to describe the drug and it's methods of ingestion. I cannot stand those who can recite the contents of the drug and the different methods of preparation. Every six months there's a whole new dialect. Every city has a different one. It's fucking stupid. Do you really think you're cool turning the word 'bun' into a verb? Stop it, stop it, stop it. And die.
Jesus Christ, bongs are the gayest things I've ever seen. They really are the epitome of decedence. Because smoking that shit isn't enough - you need something showy to use it with. Some fucking device that looks nice. Some fucking tool that looks cool. Some fucking thing that looks 'bling'. Hundreds of thousands of bongs... different sizes, different materials, different... Christ, home made shit! Pop bottles for Christ's sake! WHOLE STORES SOLELY DEVOTED TO THESE FUCKING THINGS! GET FUCKING LIVES, PEOPLE! FUCK!
The fucking MOVIES! Christ, Pineapple Express was fucking garbage! GARBAGE! It made my realize that stoners love Family Guy, too - hours of non-jokes and comments on things that happen. Half the audience LMAOing at the fact that they can relate to what is happening on-screen, as opposed to an actual comedic device. It's like chick comedians. They don't tell jokes. They point out things non-humourous specific to women. And women laugh. I saw one woman do a routine on the female condom. She opened one and talked about it for 15 minutes. No jokes. She just described it. And the women laughed. And men awkwardly laughed along, hoping to get laid. Man, what a fucking tangent.
Jesus Christ! And don't get me started on the fuckers who fancy themselves politicians. Oh, the next fucker to argue about how it's not a drug, how it's not illegal, or should be legalized, well, they're going to be eating fish out of a bowl for the next two weeks. Whatever the fuck that means.
I haven't quite made clear my booze vs pot arguement yet. Here's my thesis: When you smoke pot, the story the next day is usually how you got stoned, watched a movie/listened to music, ate shit, and slept. When you drink, the story the next day is usually how you got drunk, went out, killed a moose with your bare hands, ended up in a church, got denied at the border, and change your name to ABULAZEEEEEZ!
With pot, you stay in. With booze, you go out. I don't know ONE pot smoker that's a go-getter. That guy from the Dos Equis commercial doesn't smoke pot, I tell you.
Oh, and if you consider pot smoking to be just 'smoking', fuck you. Crack smoking must be just 'smoking', too. Asshole.
Yes, there's a difference between use and abuse... with booze. Lifelong alcoholics are like drug addicts, and I addressed that at the very beginning of the article. I'm not talking about them. With weed, the difference between use and abuse is like the difference between fuck you and fuck you.
But hold on! Hold on! What about beer bongs? Drinking games? All that other theme related faggery? Well, guess fucking what, asshole? It's the fucking pot smokers who drink that come up with all that shit! There's one way a drinker drinks - booze to mouth. In some sort of vessel. All other bullshit is the work of pot smokers. Period. Also, fuck you.
But there's the folks who go on and talk about how booze ruins lives and kills people. Is that true? 100%. Is that a mystery? -0.0009%. Everybody fucking knows that booze can fuck you up. Like a drug, a very, very legal drug, that's the risk you run. I'd rather run that risk than be a smug fucking piece of shit that rolls around in the fact that they beieve that they're fuck-up has no casualties. No casualties? I'd rather be a corpse than a zombie, pot smokers. Dig?
And what about those assholes who argue about how they'll never legalize pot/ban alcohol for economic reasons. "They only ban pot because the government can't make any money off it (or the inverse for booze)." Uh... no fucking shit! Where's the problem? It's win-win for booze! Literally thousands of beer types worldwide (over 250 at the store I work at alone) for your enjoyment and the bettering of the worldwide economy. What's the benefit of legalizing pot? The smug assholes get smugger? Smugger? You like that made up word?
I think pot DOES have it's purpose, though. Really, I do. I think it's for kids that aren't old enough to drink yet. I think it's a precursor to drink that I've never bothered with. It's cheap, and it gets you fucked up. And you'll get in the same amount of shit if you're caught by your parents as with booze. Other than that, nadda. Fucking bupkus.
The amount of proper adults who smoke pot (let's say 35+) is fucking ASTOUNDING. I can't comprehend it. It doesn't make sense. I have theories, but nothing I can pontificate about. One guess is severe arrested development in some ways. They did it as a teenager, and they kept on doing it. Having to grown the shit, roll the shit, shadily buy the shit... that classlessness never wore off, I guess. In some cases, maybe.
However, there's always those who say "I just use it to clear my head and relax." You know what? That's 100% correct. That's exactly why some people do it, and that's the only reason they smoke it. But that's not the only thing that'll clear the minds most of these kinds of smokers - it's just the easiest thing. Some like bike rides. Some climb mountains. Shoot guns. Some times, you need to clear your head but don't have the time and opportunity to go climb a mountain. Sure, I guess you're stuck (besides booze, but fuck that, right?). I'd say "go drink, you're an adult, for Christ's sake," but that's just me. Whatever. Just don't go around thinking it's THE thing that clears your mind. Your hobby will clear your mind. Your passion will clear your mind. Oddly enough, I know many pot smokers, both young and old, that have absolutely no passion or hobbies. None. They live in the suburbs of the suburbs (not rural, not suburban, not urban). They have pot and that's all they have. And that's sad. Am I judging? If after 14 chapters you haven't figured out the answer, you're hopeless.
But basically, that's my big theory. Pot takes the place of your hobby. I know for a fact when I slap on my Jazz and stand in front of my SWR and crank it to the point I'm getting some actual genital stimulation, there's not a fucking thing that'll clear my mind more. Pot won't make me enjoy it more - it'll make you think "OMG this is awesome!!" instead of... actually enjoying it. You'll be like a 5 year old who watches a TV show with a laugh track and laughs along even though they don't understand the jokes.
But what does this have to do with anything? Music, or my Gospels? Well, it's simple, really.
Oh, you actually want me to explain it? OK. Over the courses of my blogs, I've always tried to counteract counterexamples. I've always talked about PC assholes. "You can say anything you want as long as it's positive." Guys who bring up counterexamples and think the existance of an exception debunks the whole arguement. The vast majority of these arguements come from pot heads. They seem to be the ones breaking balls this way. Once again - fuck you guys.
Now... doesn't it seem like I just need to smoke a joint and chill out? Nope - I'm as happy as punch flipping out like this. I love it, really. I'm totally in-check with my feelings and am never unable to express myself. I never, ever have physical outbursts. I talk through problems. But isn't the intensity driving me nuts? Nope - it keeps me sharp. Keeps me moving. Keeps me interesting and not mellow. Mellow is boring. I may be many things, but I'm not boring. I get high off of saying I've never, ever smoked anything. High off my own pride.
I've decided on another blog. Two more. The bass, and music. Then that's it for the chapters. That's the Gospel done.
I hope the steady readers braved this one out and understood it. I'm not a politician. I say what I feel and if this hit too close to home, that's a shame. Really, it is. However, let me clear one more thing up - I don't mind when people smoke pot around me. Not at all, really. If they start acting like idiots, I get very, very pissed off very, very fast. And I've outlined the reasons why. If you behave yourself and smoke pot, I really don't mind.
Now folks, please, as always, I encourage dialogue. Respond, agree, or disagree. But remember, if you start argueing semantics and providing counterexamples do debunk my entire arguement, remember that you're as quintessential a pot head as you can get. Pretty much any counterexample or "say anything as long as it's " response is a win for me.
Let the flames begin, but not at the end of a joint.
Alright, folks. I wanted to make a report on this for a while, but didn't have enough concrete information to make this worth reading.
For a long time I've been on fretless withdrawl. There's something about the way you hold a fretless; the way you fret; the way you pluck; vibrato; it's a different feel and it's intoxicating. While I don't regret trading my fretless MIJ Jazz w/epoxy for my legendary, I do miss it.
I was considering going top end; a Jaco fretless, a Tony Franklin fretless, an American Deluxe Fretless, that Thumb fretless (OK, that wasn't until well after the project started). My good buddy (who wrote the riff to our song, Diesel) suggested that we make a custom. He refinished his guitar flawlessly and is really, really talented. His was the first MDS (his initials) Guitar, and this one is to be the second.
I love Jaco and love his tone - but I wanted something else. This may make little sense, but there are 2 types of fretless tones: blatant Jaco imitators, or people desparately NOT trying to sound like Jaco. I'm coming from a different area, trying to somewhat pay tribute to an upright while taking advantage of the fact that they are two very, VERY different instruments.
My inspiration was my own '51 Precision reissue. Those '51 pickups are as clear as a bell, and really do provide some girth. It's about as upright as a magnetic pickup can get to my ears (not saying much, of course). I wanted to defret my '51 (since the bloody fingerboard is already polied), but my dad wouldn't support that - plus The Barbecue Song wouldn't sound the same without it. So began my quest to make my own '51 Precision fretless.
I saw some bodies handmade by someone on eBay, and a Telecaster Thinline with a spalt maple top routed for a '51 Precision grabbed me, and I had to have it. Binding, semi hollow, and all. Sure, no top horn and light semi-hollow body spells neck-dive, but when you place the BOTTOM strap button properly, all is fine.
The colour scheme was the key. I loved the look of the Stealth Bongo, but realized it might have little to do with the Bongo shape itself, but the fact that the colour was totally consistant. This is something I'm going for with this one. The body has been stained ebony, to match the fingerboard of the neck. The neck will also be stained ebony, headstock included. Ebony from head to toe. Black hardware (and bless eBay for having '51 style control plate and knobs in black). Blackity black-black.
I was always deciding between a Precision neck and a Jazz neck. I like the Precision nut width, but reaching the E string with my pinkie up in the solo area requires a bit of stretch which might fudge the intonation. I played my Warwick, with a Jazz-like neck, and got around on it so cleanly that I decided to get a Jazz neck. Allparts neck off eBay, unfinished (as was the body).
Standard clover tuners and a standard-ish bridge with a thicker plate... similar looking to the new Fender Vintage High Mass bridges, except thicker. I couldn't justify buying a BadAss II for $90. Black string tree.
Electronically, I have decided on a Lindy Fralin '51 Precision split-coil (i.e. no hum). They retain the clarity of the noisy '51. '51 pickups also have quieter E and G strings (since the magnets match the radius of the vintage fingerboards, which doesn't even things out, even thought it intended to), but the Fralins don't. One pickup, one sound - a la upright. You change the sound with your hands.
So, in conclusion, we have a semi-hollow Telecaster Thinline bass body with a '51 Fralin split coil pickup with an ebony-boarded and polied Jazz neck. Stained black, with black hardware.
This blog will be updated. My buddy has been taking pictures of the entire process and there will be a vast catalogue when completed. It will take a few months to get the remaining stuff (basically the pickup and poly).
Note the path. The first part is the website. The second part is the location on the site. Thirdly, I assume, is the website's hard drive directory. Fourthly is the user's name. Yes, it's a former UG user, but let's elabourate. Typing the username into photobucket, we get: http://s204.photobucket.com/albums/bb221/robby117/
That troublesome returning threadstarter WAS indeed that previous user who kept signing up and showing the same basses over and over. My stalker.
It looks like the poor, pathetic kid in the video who would play with a weasel is someone completely different. This kid's probably seeing all these horrible comments on his YouTube page and is wondering what the hell is going on. The kid in the video is NOT the kid who's posting them. My guess is the poster is posing as the kid to get us to hate the kid, not the poster.
Anyway, I knew this from day 1, but it's nice to see now that it's true.
I wrote a letter to Bass Player Magazine. It reads like this:
"Is the bass playing world really that dull? Is it so slow and uneventful that Berklee having a young bass playing professor is interesting enough to be a cover story? Yes, I get it - you don't want to be strictly a rock magazine. But let's keep our feet on the ground, shall we? Apparently readers wanted more upright players, and now it seems like well over 1/3rd of the artists featured play upright exclusively. And not one upright bass review to be seen. What's going on? Why is this happening? To me it seems like you feel like your magazine was shunning certain groups, but your recent inclusion of a thousand upright players and a million chick bassists just screams overcompensation. We get it. Please, enough. I love upright bassists, chick bassists, and combinations of the two, but the amount of coverage that I've seen of them over the last six months just doesn't make sense. You're pandering. I don't like my subscription being filled with panderisms. Yes, I made that word up. So, to summarize, I cannot believe for one second that the bass playing world is so damn dull that a young Berklee prof counts as a cover story. Please, let's see if we can make three consecutive issues that are... interesting and relevant... to... people. Enough with the fanbase expansion."
I'd rant about the current cover story, but it's so... beyond the beyond that I just can't think about it for too long.
I have nothing more to add here; I just thought I'd share this with you.
Oh, and one aside. I'm really considering ending the Gospels with the most recent one being the last. I have some big ideas, and that last Gospel took a lot of time, thought, and effort. While I appreciate the comments that were left, I really feel like not enough people are reading or commenting on the Gospels to justify me racking my brain and making more. It's really not worth the effort for me if I'm gonna get no feedback. I am really proud of that last one and figured that it'd get a slew of comments and questions. The next blogs I'd planned to make more controversial and universal, and they'd probably piss a lot of people off. If there aren't many views or comments on my bass-related stuff, there won't be any for my crazier shit.
Every fucking blog that goes "oh, hi, this is what I'm up to" written by some teenage girl with 1,000 views and 500 comments is another nail keeping the Gospel shut. Really, if my blogs will get 1/100th of the views and 1/1000th of the comments of those bullshit blogs, I'd rather keep my opinions to myself. Nobody cares. Now the detractors can go "Finally! I'm gonna jam on my T-Bird! Or an uglier bass I wish was a T-Bird!"