Weeknotes: August 12-16, 2024
Weeknotes went on vacation last week. Weeknotes thought about becoming Campnotes for a moment, but decided that being nothing was healthier. Now Weeknotes is Weeknotes again.
Monday, August 12
After four nights of camping, it's a luxury to wake in my own bed. The morning is cool with a slight blush of autumn. I love this time of year. It’s the start of harvest season, wildflowers are are at their peak, and as summer winds down, there's a bittersweet breath of change that never fails to electrify me. I'm most activated in the calendar's borderlands. Late August, November, April, early June, these are peak awareness periods for me. When the fullness of each season has yet to come, that's when the interesting stuff happens.
Tuesday, August 13
During a long late afternoon run I listen to a compilation of Lindsey Buckingham's first three solo albums. I’ve always seen him as the natural heir to Les Paul, another California guitar and studio pioneer who layered intricate parts and vocals into thrilling little pop songs. For me, Lindsey's Fleetwood Mac peak is Mirage which feels like a more concise edit of Tusk. Both of those albums have been massively influential to me.
Lately, I've been into Lindsey's second solo record, Go Insane, in which our hero buys a Fairlight CMI synth and uses it on every song. It may sound dated, but that's one of the things I love about him. Lindsey never wavers, he always goes for it. He just commits, even if it's not a success. His solos aren’t technical feats of greatness, but you get the feeling he’s always one step away from falling off the cliff.
Wednesday, August 14
I buy a sandwich from a pita shop I don't normally go to. The woman behind the counter gives off young Sandra Bullock vibes and I nuture a minor crush while I wait. The television in the corner plays a Guy Fieri cooking show in which contestants prepare dishes inside a grocery store.
The afternoon glides by in a smear of activity. I've been so productive all week, just cranking it out in all sectors of my life. Last week I told a friend that I'm like a border collie; I need to have a task or I don't know what to do with myself. Laying down for a nap in the middle of the day feels like an anathema, but I think I need one if I’m going to keep up the energy in the studio tonight. Maybe if I treat it like a task I'll “perform” a better nap. I'm not sure if I actually fall asleep, but I do fade into that blurry half state which is usually enough to reset my body.
I get another sandwich from a different place and drive out to Ferndale to record some piano and drum parts with Chad. On a whim I buy a bottle of Snapple peach iced tea which I haven’t had in ages. It tastes like the '90s and makes me think of Nantucket Nectars, Clearly Canadian, and other beverages of my teenage years. I mostly just drink water now.
Thursday, August 15
The cicadas this summer are overwhelming. My backyard sounds like a machine shop. I sit on the stoop eating a dish of ice cream watching Islay eat grass to calm her stomach. "How have you not barfed yet?" No response. Poor thing.
Over the cicadas’ din, someone is singing 4 Non Blondes' "What's Up?" I can't hear any instruments, just the sing-songy vocal melody. At first I think it’s someone walking down the street, enjoying the moment. Then I realize it must be karaoke night at the pub, one street away. I watch some TV, then lay in the grass and watch the bats over my house. Now someone is singing Pat Benatar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot." It's gray and humid and I want it to rain.
Friday, August 16
Chad calls about the parts we recorded together on Wednesday. While I was at his studio I picked up an old nylon stringed guitar and on a whim played Mason Williams' "Classical Gas." He'd never heard it before. I told him he should play it before he goes on stage. It would be the perfect walkout song for Bandeau.
In his driveway I talked to his wife, an illustrator and designer, about my theory on seasonal productivity (see Monday’s post), wondering if she experienced it too. I then asked his young son if he liked winter. A thoughtful pause, then "I like it when the snow is out." Me too.
On the phone, Chad and I again pick up this thread which digresses into a discussion about the comfortable self-awareness we both seem to be experiencing in our 40s. We always go somewhere interesting in our conversations. The sign of a worthwhile friendship.