This is the Blog, Did You Mean to go to the Hosey Website?
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(This is a sticky post, please find current news items below) in Hosey |
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This is just a blog of nonsense, run by the guys in the band Hosey. If you want to listen to our music or contact us or whatever, you should visit:
This is a place for our mindless rambling, read at your own risk.
A Belated Hosey Newsletter
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Saturday, 19 September 09 - 05:08 PM (GMT -05:00) in Hosey |
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Greetings Jr. Inner-Space Cadets!
I've been incommunicado for a long minute. Here's what's popping:
---=== Item 1 ===---
Hosey is throwing another Keg Party on Oct 2. Same as always. $5 to drink all you can until the keg runs out. This time around, we're bringing a new friend: Abstract Artimus will be throwing down with Hosey in an all-nite, no-holds-barred, frenzied orgy of Music, Mayhem, and MURDER!!! Friends of Hosey will be DJing fore and aft the onslaught. Could it be YOU?!? (yes, it will be)
---=== Item 2 ===---
We're also pleased to announce that recording, mixing, and mastering are all done for our new album, Goodbye Bikini Island. I'd be announcing the release of the album right now, but we don't have artwork for it yet. Soon, it will be done and in your hands.
For now you can check out two new tracks from it:
"So There's a Girl..."
If this one doesn't get me any girlie action, then I'm giving up on satisfaction altogether. You can hear it at our MySpace profile, or you can download it here
"Just a Few Seconds"
Yep, we're still obsessed with blowing up the Earth. Some things never change. You can hear it at our MySpace profile, or you can download it here.
Here's the whole tracklist for Goodbye Bikini Island:
1. Looking Thru a Candle
2. It'll Happen to You
3. Mode7
4. Just a Few Seconds
5. Suburbs of Cybertron
6. Like an Animal
7. I Just Wanna Go Home
8. So There's a Girl...
9. Goodbye Bikini Island
You'll notice that "I Just Wanna Go Home" has found a proper home. You can still hear that song at 1800hosey.com and at our MySpace profile. Also, for anyone who's been listening for the whole decade, you'll notice that we dusted off some other old songs. I hope you'll enjoy the various ways we've twisted them up. Goodbye Bikini Island should be out as soon as we've finished the artwork. Which I'm kind of lost on, for the moment. Nevertheless, it will be online and in your hands very soon.
---===End of Items===---
That's it for now. I swear to be a better netizen in the future, and not leave everybody out of the loop on current Hosey ramblings. Latre.
Have fun,
Patrik
Hosey Newsletter
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Thursday, 19 February 09 - 08:10 PM (GMT -05:00) in Hosey |
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This is a copy of the newsletter sent out to subscribers to Hosey's mailing list. If you'd like to join the list, send an email to: patrik@1800hosey.com .
Howdy Cowboys and Cowgirls,
Thanks to everyone who came out to our CD release party last Friday. The night was a big success, and we had a ton of fun. We're definitely planning on getting another keg and doing it again soon. There were a lot of pictures taken of the performance, and I should have those up at our website shortly. The night was to celebrate the physical release of our second album, V II. The album is available over at our website for free. The CD we sell for $7, and it comes with about 15 minutes of extra music that's unavailable anywhere else. The CD flows between tracks without pauses, so it creates a much more coherent picture. The album is itself a story based on the life of Kevin Holgram, a musician who served as a code breaker in World War II. There are short stories connected to each song on the album. I haven't finished writing the final two yet, but what is done can be found here.
Future Hosey stuff: Now that the album is completed, I'm going to start emptying the backlog of Hosey songs. Matt and I have been making music together for a little more than 10 years, so there's a *a lot* of material to sift through. On the recording front, we're planning to release a short EP by Summer. We've already got designs on our third album, and we need to record this EP to kind of "test the water" of what we can accomplish as far as mixing all the different styles of "Hosey" music from over the years. We're also going to be working on a set of cover songs to play at an upcoming CopyCat Wednesday at Otto's Shrunken Head. Other than that we're planning to book some out of town shows. So, Hosey fans from outside the city, you'll finally get your chance to see us perform. Heads up to anyone who can offer any info about Upstate NY, Jersey, Baltimore, Philly, or DC. And finally, here's a video of our performance at our CD release party:
or if you're unable to see the embed: http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=B6259BFED22C2FE1
Thanks for all the support! See you in two weeks!
Have fun,
Patrik
1800hosey.com
V II Declassified -- Item 6: Crescent Run II
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Sunday, 25 January 09 - 05:38 PM (GMT -05:00) in Hosey |
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"[Don't mind him,]" Trilby tilts his head towards Kevin, "[he has a speech impediment. He's shy about it.]" The idling car full of Hitler Youth share a chuckle about this. The driver sweeps his arm in the air, signaling Kevin and Trilby to get in the backseat. The three teenagers had just passed through the town of Colditz when they spotted the two of them walking along the roadside. Kevin and Trilby are ID'd as German soldiers by their field grey infantry coats; the boys stopped to offer them a lift to wherever they're going.
"[Where are you two headed?]" the driver asks as they squeeze into the backseat of the KDFwagen with a kid who doesn't look any older than fifteen. These squirts haven't shaved a day in their life, Kevin thinks to himself. Still, the Hitler Youth are not to be dealt with lightly, especially if you've just escaped from a prison camp in the heart of German territory.
"[We're headed to Gottmadingen,]" Trilby has his fingers crossed praying that Kevin
remembered what he learned about astronomy from their buddy Tim at that first P.O.W. camp so long ago.
"[You men are almost there, it's just up this road.]" The driver's face is fixed forward, expression motionless save for the jaws, "[Deployment to the west?]"
"[Secondary objective,]" Trilby shoots back with a smile. "[Primary is to find a couple of Swiss girls to share breakfast with!]" Trilby guffaws at his own comment and ribs Kevin with his elbow, encouraging him to do the same. The boys laugh heartily, Kevin, a little confused, laughs right along. "[But you sprouts are too young to know anything about that!]" This elicits a little nervous laughter from the boys. Good, Trilby thinks. Now they're as uncomfortable as I am.
Kevin doesn't know any German except "Hande hoche!" so he has no idea what is going on. All he knows is to laugh when Trilby nudges him, other than that, look stupid.
The nervous laughter of the Youth made Kevin a little uneasy at first, but Trilby seems to be conversing casually with them now. Kevin still finds it hard to relax. The boys are being entertained by Trilby's "stories" from the front, but of course, he has no way of knowing this.
The drive through the country side, much like the walk, is quite pretty. The air is gently cool, and the trees and pastures sparkle beneath a light snowfall. A large castle looms over their backs in the small distance; the castle Kevin and Trilby just escaped from. The Wehrmacht guards stationed there had been perfect gentlemen, the prisoners had little reason to complain. Every protocol of Geneva was followed to the letter. Kevin was almost sorry he managed to actually escape. The attempts had always seemed like little games; every time he had been caught he was confined to solitary for just one week with all the books and food the Red Cross could provide. He lived better than the guards, for Christ's sake! These little pimples, these Hitler Youth, would love to turn them over to the Nazis, who did not see escape attempts as a fun way for P.O.W.s and their guards to while away the hours, who instead had a tendency to shoot escapees in the head. The boys probably believed they would do it themselves if they ever caught an enemy soldier. Blindly preparing themselves to bring and receive death in the name of "Herr Hitler" or some other Nazi prop bunk. Put these chumps on the front lines. Let them see exactly how much blood pumps through a man. Let them see exactly how long a man can live with lungs and a heart that have been exploded by a rifle shot; how many agony-filled seconds really pass before the brain realizes what's happening and has the sweet mercy to shut down? Hundreds more seconds than you can imagine, kids. One thing Kevin's learned is that if you have any mercy left in your soul, you aim for the face. He has his own war stories to share, apparently.
Luckily, this dangerously darkening line of thought is interrupted when their car comes to a stop at a spare intersection just outside of a small town. Motioning down the street to the right, the driver says, "[The train station is down that road. You can't miss it.]"
"[Thanks,]" Trilby nods to the driver while hurrying Kevin out the door, throwing in a pretty convincing "Heil Hitler!" once he and Kevin are out of the vehicle.
"Heil!" The boys in unison salute and continue their drive to the North.
"That was something! 'Heil Hitler'!? I can't believe I got away with that!" Trilby is almost breathless after the encounter.
"You've got 'a way' with things, that's for sure," a shiver runs through Kevin, trying to shake off the unease of the encounter.
Trilby gives Kevin two hard punches to shoulder, "Good show, eh?"
"Sure. Broadway material," Kevin glances over his shoulder to be sure the kids are long gone. "Where'd you learn to speak German like a German?"
"I told you, before the War I was one of the greatest actors in Britain."
"You keep saying that..."
"I keep proving it."
"Tell you what," Kevin says, coming to a brief stop, "when this is over, you convince a bartender you're Greta Garbo and drinks are on me."
"We'll be jam-happy in a little lodge near the Swiss Alps by tomorrow night," Trilby snaps with a quick smile over his shoulder as he continues down the road, "but I doubt your stolen reichsmarks will be any good there."
"Switzerland by rail. How long's the ride?" Kevin asks.
"Thirty-three hours, I've got somewhere special in mind." Trilby notices Kevin's surprise at the duration, so he draws a large C-shape in the air saying "The train runs in this pattern. Like a giant crescent."
V II Declassified -- Item 5: How To Build a Better Mouse Trap
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Saturday, 20 December 08 - 11:37 PM (GMT -05:00) in Hosey |
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Kevin is half-drunk and falling through the sea. The ferocious currents of the Gulf Stream propel him like a heavy artillery shell headed for reinforced concrete. The currents are layered, each one flowing in its own direction, and as Kevin sinks through them he feels like a baby being rocked to sleep during a bombing run. Looking up, he sees the moon wavering at the water's surface, briefly obscured by the violence of the surf. The stars won't keep still long enough for him to spot any constellations, but he's pretty sure he wouldn't be able to figure out where he was anyway. Tiring of this scene, he lifts an arm to push against the water to flip himself over and finds himself spiraling through the sea currents like a perfectly launched football. He slows to a stop facing the ocean floor and spies an airplane flying parallel with him about three hundred feet below. The propellers slice through the water unperturbed, stirring up thousand of small bubbles that engulf Kevin, tickling their way into every loose seam of his fatigues. He considers for a moment that this is what it feels like to be vanilla ice cream dropped in a fresh glass of Barqs' root beer. He's in danger of drifting to sleep dreaming about cold root beer floats, made with Barqs'. Always and only Barqs'. But, there are more important things to deal with right now, like why is there a U.S. aircraft swimming hundreds of feet under the sea? Kevin knows it's not just Allied, but specifically a U.S. plane. Not only that, he knows what model it is. He's pretty sure he has flown aboard one like it before. Oh shit! he thinks, then aloud, "I'm on the plane!" The words squeeze through his larynx and burst out of his mouth as bubbles almost three feet in diameter that descend forward beneath him for a brief moment before exploding into titanic ripples, obscuring all sensation.
As the water steadies and Kevin's field of vision clears, he finds himself stuffed in a corner of the carriage of a medium aircraft. Everything is completely silent. Someone who may or may not ever have had a face is bleeding into the corner diagonally across from him. Evidence of severe damage is scattered everywhere, but strangely enough, no holes in the craft are to be found. No exits or doors of any kind, for that matter. When Kevin tries to look towards the cockpit he always finds himself looking to his right down an endless hallway of half-digested metal.
Wait! It's not exactly silent in here. Someone is sleeping nearby. Lots of people. The gentle rhythmic tide of breath that comes from rest, not the labored desperation of the wounded and dying. Slow deep breaths, interrupted only by buzzing snores or the shifting of body weight. Suddenly, the aircraft begins a steep descent, the uneven quickly spinning kind that has only one possible outcome. As the pressure builds, pinning Kevin to the corner of the plane, he is certain that he is dreaming. He can distinctly hear the silent murmur of the bunkhouse to which he's assigned. The g-forces in the plane increase, throwing his head back hard against the wall. He hears the ominous sweeping of the large ventilation fans that must be run even in Winter because of the number of men crammed into this one tiny bunkhouse. The plane approaches terminal velocity, the pressure is forcing Kevin's throat closed. He can make out the quiet bootsteps of the guards patrolling the P.O.W. camp. The pressure to respire is becoming more intense, Kevin can't tell if he needs to breathe in or out, but either way, he can do neither. The gums of his front teeth begin to creep back. His front incisors slowly twist in their sockets, each nerve and blood vessel snapping torturously one at a time, the roots finally releasing with the tearing crunch of an old Magnolia tree in a Summer storm. Kevin feels the teeth slide loose, the sensation starting just under his nose. Only a dream! Only a dream! his mind is screaming as he feels the loosed teeth brutally force their way through the back of his mouth. He feels his jaw twist sideways, and knows now that he'll wake up soon, it's only a matter of patience. I'm probably already awake now, just unaware of it. This dream is already over, I'm just a little behind, that's all and his jaw, pressed hard against his throat, is twisted clockwise against the roof of his mouth, shattering teeth and ripping tendons that stretch all the way to the inner ear. Why this ending, every time? and summoning an immense amount of mental strength he forces his jaw back into place; snapping whatever tendons he has left.
Kevin feels himself being slung back into his physical body, which is already frantically running its tongue over its teeth, counting to make sure it still has the ones it went to sleep with. Kevin and his body's teeth are all accounted for, but the feeling of suffocation lingers. He takes a deep breath, but nothing happens.
I really can't breathe!
Kevin opens his eyes to a large monster of a man looming over him. He grasps at enormous hands, double-clenched around his neck. "You're grinding your teeth! Stop! Stop grinding your teeth!" the man is screaming over and over, his eyes streaming tears, mouth frothing and spraying Kevin's face. Just as Kevin is getting a foot between himself and his attacker, his top bunk mate, Trilby, dives onto the giant's back and wraps his arms around the man's sizable neck. Kevin is able to pry himself loose and roll to the floor on the opposite side of the bed once the large shadow removes a hand to shake off Trilby. He tries to shout to rouse others, but the only sound he can muster is an inaudible wheeze. It doesn't matter, the screaming giant is still at it and everyone who is going to wake up already has. Kevin isn't surprised to see them staring blankly at the scene as he whips around the bunk to help Trilby. A few other P.O.W.s are already lending a hand. Kevin knows them from the plane that was supposed to carry him to Tunisia: Chris the lodemaster, and Tim the pilot.
The giant menace is a first-day arrival from God knows what front of the war. He is clearly mad. No one knows him. After Kevin, Trilby, and the others have him sufficiently subdued, Trilby looks at Kevin and for what must be the hundredth time says, "See? You're going to get along beautifully here!"
"Fuck that! We're getting out of here," and Kevin looks up, solely for drama since there's nothing above them but rotten wooden planks. "Any of you know anything about Astronomy?"
V II Declassified -- Item 4: Ludicrous Speed
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Monday, 15 December 08 - 02:07 PM (GMT -05:00) in Hosey |
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The V-2 rocket was Nazi Germany's last ditch effort in the ballistic arms race of WWII and touted as Hitler's secret miracle weapon. The "V" is for vergeltungswaffe, or "vengeance weapon". It was also known as the A-4, for aggregat-4, referring to it's incredibly delicate and intricately timed 4 stage launching and propulsion process. The V-2 was the first man made object to reach sub-orbital heights, thus it was man's first forays into the space age. In fact, most rockets constructed since then have been derived from the V-2 model. Particularly the rockets used for spaceflight.
The V-2 was preceded by the V-1 flying bomb. The V-1 was an early model of what we'd call a missile today. It was characterized by an incessant buzzing sound that alerted targets to its impending approach. The buzzing would become a common noise that many Europeans would eventually learn to react instinctively to and seek shelter from. The V-2 by contrast traveled faster than the speed of sound. This meant that the rocket would reach its destination and explode before any sound of its approach could reach the target. While the V-2 was notoriously inaccurate, its silent approach was nevertheless a highly successful form of psychological terror. In fact more people were killed building and launching V-2s than actual enemies, but after observing the effects of the terror it caused, Hitler put all his chips into further development and construction of V-2 rockets.
Picture of the damage caused by a V-2 rocket strike in a busy Antwerp intersection. Another rocket would strike a Woolworth's Store in London. More than 3000 V-2 rockets would be launched by Nazi Germany.
The V-2 would propel itself for up to a minute, while gyroscopes and a primitive computer would guide the rocket. After this propulsion stage, all systems in the rocket would shut down. This point was known as Brenschluss, or burnout to Americans. Much of this album was inspired by the book, Gravity's Rainbow, which used the V-2 rocket as the center theme that the cast of thousands revolve around; or to use a Vonnegut phrase: the V-2 was the wampeter. The book makes heavy metaphorical usage of brennschluss, likening it to predestination and the illusion of time. Once brennschluss occurs, all is done. Nothing can stop the trajectory of the rocket, no more systems can fail because all is burnt. The chronological and physical space between brennschluss and the explosion of its target is merely an illusion, created by our imperfect abilities to perceive spacetime. Once that Doppler radar or the accelerometers signal engine cut-off, everyone who will die is already dead, everyone who survives gets to die later. This is particularly accented by the reverse causality of the explosion: fire and shock first, sound later. To hear the rocket means you'll live--have already lived--through it.
The V-2 was first tested in 1942, as terrible as it was, in August of 1945, the U.S. deployed a bomb that proved once and for all that there can't possibly be any kind of God looking out for this world.
Nagasaki, before and after
Aftermath of Hiroshima
[Note: I personally don't full-on condemn the use of the A-Bomb in Japan, however terrible it was. The Pacific Theatre of WWII was absolutely horrific, and sadly enough, most people my age have almost no knowledge of it beyond the bombings. While I can't say it was justifiable, I certainly can understand the reasoning of Truman and U.S. Military leaders behind the decision to bomb Japan. I don't think there was an option that wouldn't have resulted in mass deaths. That's all I'll say, because that's about as defined as my opinion is on it; it's an incredibly nebulous subject. There's a ridiculous amount of information on the subject that has been declassified since 1991--decrypted U.S. intercepts from the Magic and Ultra programs, spy transcripts, testimony from Japanese officials and military leaders, information on what exactly we knew about the strength of the bomb (we'd only tested the thing--once--3 weeks before we bombed Japan!). I highly advise you seek it out. You might find that an opinion is a little harder to form than you think.]
V II Declassified -- Item 3: Crescent Run
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Sunday, 14 December 08 - 02:03 PM (GMT -05:00) in Hosey |
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There is a track of railroad that heads east out of New Orleans, travels through the sweaty hairline of the South, turning north to follow along the East Coast until it finally terminates in New York City. While the official name of the line that travels it has changed as regularly as ownership has passed from hand to hand, the farmers and locals of the regions it passes through have always called it The Crescent Run. From The Big Easy to The Big Apple is a thirty-three hour ride departing at seven A.M. and arriving the next day at five P.M.. The train crosses into North Carolina at Midnite, which is of little consequence to this story, but it's the kind of occurrence a person awake at that hour might notice.
It is precisely the sort of thing Jillian Hood spends time noticing. In fact, she's in the dining car noticing it right now as it occurs. Jillian is the middle daughter of a wealthy family from Laurel in Mississippi. She has a younger sister, whom she gets along with but finds a little boring. Her oldest brother is a Marine deployed in the Pacific Theatre of The War. Her sibling closest in age is her brother Sterling, and not coincidentally, the family member she is most at ease with. He's a ballplayer in Boston, but like many in his field, he enlisted as the U.S. entered The War. From a young age, Jillian exhibited a blossoming imagination and perceptive wit, but was never encouraged artistically by anyone except Sterling. "You're good at this stuff!" he would say of her pictures and poems, hands over his head, fleeing the room in between swats from the journals she secretly left open for him to find. Jillian and Sterling spent a lot of time in their youth playing baseball with the kids in the neighborhood; silly as it was, she secretly harbored a wish to play the game for a living. She loved to get dirty, she always thought she would be the best at third base.
This half-asleep line of thought is shaken loose by the howl of the train whistle. Jillian has often listened to the bellows of passing trains from her bedroom window. Every night like clockwork, one at a quarter past Midnite and another at four A.M.. Tonight, on The Crescent Run, she stares out the car's window into the impenetrable blackness of the hour, looking into the eyes of her own soft reflection and wonders who out there in the North Carolina night is hearing this whistle blow?
Eventually, Jillian's boyfriend, who she is sometimes fond of, is drafted for service in The War. With her two sources of male companionship gone, she became increasingly restless and depressed. In an attempt to cheer her spirits, her parents arrange for her to stay with an aunt in New York City for the Summer and early Fall. Jillian's excited for a change of scenery, "...and besides, when the rockets come screaming down on us, I might as well have a good seat in a decent bar with a stiff drink in my hand. "
Late in the night on June fourth, she packed her bags, swiped a bottle of her mother's codeine, and the next morning she headed for the train station.
V II Declassified -- Item2: Kevin & His Band
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Monday, 08 December 08 - 03:05 PM (GMT -05:00) in Hosey |
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Kevin Holgram, born near Hattiesburg, Mississippi on August 6th, 1920, was a late-blooming, up and coming Piano player in the New Orleans Jazz scene of the late 1930s. His first instrument, a glockenspiel bestowed upon him at age 8, was purchased by his Father, a local farmer, from a small pawn shop located between his hometown and New Orleans; years ago it had been pawned by a member of the US Marching Band immediately following The Great War.
As the United States perceived a rising need to involve itself with the conflict in Europe--what would come to be known as World War II--Kevin was drafted by the U.S. Navy for S.O.N.A.R. duties aboard American sea vessels and submarines. During his training, he was singled out for his sharp ear and ability to discern patterns from what would superficially be perceived as white-noise caused by solar radiation.
After being re-assigned to training for encryption and decryption duties, he makes his first big break designing a method by which messages can be encrypted in the pops and crackles inherent in a new audio storage medium: Vinyl Discs. Working with Alan Turing and Lawrence Waterhouse, they develop a process by which a "code key" can be derived from a completely random (and therefore unbreakable) process.
Kevin enjoys a small amount of privilege based on the success of his new encryption method. Secretly stationed at Camp Shelby, he quickly acquires local notoriety for his brash behavior and contrarian opinions. An obvious agitator and target from the beginning: Born Catholic yet openly a radical atheist, he voiced open criticism of the monopolistic inevitabilities of Capitalism, yet he likewise expressed cynical derision of the ideas of "Brotherhood for the Greater Good", and obviously held great disdain for US involvement with the Soviets (he is quoted, "Between these 'Allies', the only question is, 'Who's going to execute me first?' ")
His lack of formal education, alcoholism, and attempted womanizing make him an easy fly to swat.
Because of the intervention of, and under the extended protection of Colonel Earl Holton, Kevin and several other "free-radicals" of the US Military were re-stationed at a discreet Allied intercept station in Brazil (Said Kevin of Brazil: "... it worked out perfect for me, as crazy as that seems. [Brazil and it's gov't] was much more a place that fell in line with my ideals regarding the big dogs having their world-spanning football game: 'Fuck 'em, let's take 'em for all they're worth!' "
After the extensive success of the use of his Vinyl Codes during Operation Torch, Kevin comes to his superiors with a new idea for encryption that he claims: "...runs so deep it could be publicly broadcast across all airwaves without apprehension." Citing the success of Negro Spirituals in passing messages openly and undetected among the slave populations of white slave owners, along with the similar instances of the United States' use of the Navajo language to pass messages without prejudice in certain theatres of The War: Kevin suggests that subtle nuances of the music and language of the emerging, bountiful American music culture (being so alien and strange, in a traditional musical sense) could be harnessed for similar undetectable message propagation, even simultaneous public announcements to an enormous number of Allied-occupied territories. The Allies, intrigued by this idea, call him to Tunisia.
Boarding a craft in Belem, Brazil; Kevin rendezvous with a US Aircraft carrier north of Parnaiba that is heading towards Africa. South of the Sierra Leone ridge, he departs the carrier via aircraft: a new bomber model the US has been considering for its forces, the PV-2 Harpoon. While enroute, the crew aboard the bomber spot a German U-boat running off the shores of the Ivory Coast. Unable to make radio contact with base, the crew decide on their own to take action against the U-Boat ("After all, we've got all these depth charges, right? Might as well do something with em!") After a failed bombing run, the Harpoon was set upon by a small squadron of Axis Messerschmidt Bf-109s, which quickly brought the plane to the water's surface. (Ironically enough, the precise path of Kevin and his crew's flight plan had been transmitted from Brazil to Tunisia by use of his own Vinyl Code. The key for unlocking those codes is generated by entering a random name into a "key generator". This process is insured a certain randomness by having the names selected by a Tyrone Slothrop, a man who is shipped around Allied territories to barhop and socialize, and more importantly: to keep a list of every name he can gather. It turns out he has a predilection for girls of German descent, with attitude, in possession of particularly long names. Once this is discovered by Axis spies, it is only a short amount of time--6 days to be exact--before they have broken the Vinyl Codes. Liesolette was the downfall)
All survivors of the crash (particularly to us, Kevin Holgram) are fished out of the sea and taken aboard the German U-boat.
V II Declassified -- Item1: D.E.W. (Assaut Sonique)
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Sunday, 07 December 08 - 07:18 PM (GMT -05:00) in Hosey |
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Click here to download or listen to this song.
The song doesn't contain any samples (outside of the drums). I play the Guitars, both the rhythm and lead parts, and Hughes plays the Bass, which was recorded in one take. As far as Guitar parts go, the song is mostly just the rhythm Guitar, with the lead only appearing during the "descending" riff, the solo, and the beginning of the break at the middle.
Click here to view the Guitar tab for "D.E.W.(AssautSonique)"
Something else that should be pointed out about this song: while every other song on this album (V II) was written by Hughes and I, this one actually has a third songwriter, Jonathan Lambert, who was our drummer back when we were still a typical rock band ('97 until sometime around '01) The drum line I programmed is based on the drum line Johnny originally played for the song back in '98, back when the song was named "Sonic Assault".
--
P
News of Our Demise Has Been Greatly Exaggerated
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Saturday, 15 November 08 - 10:28 AM (GMT -05:00) in Hosey |
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I know it's been a while since I've posted anything beyond a simple flyer for an upcoming show. Rest assured, that Hosey is still alive and well, and majorly "kickin' it". Matt's and my lives have been consumed lately by the making of our new album, V II . We're getting really close to being done with the recording, and then it will only be a matter of time before everything is mixed down and ready for release. We set out to do something way overambitious for our second release, and from here it looks like we're going to do just that. We're digging deep into every crevice of our musical knowledge for this one.
I was "released" from my job a few weeks ago, so I've got plenty of time to pour into the recording process. It's nice, this artist's life. A bit boring, though, and a little sedentary. I need some exercise.
That's it for this rainy Saturday morning. I think I'm going to try to post a little more frequently, I've certainly got the time on my hands. Stay tuned.
... More items are available in my News Archive
