Recording The Mendoza Lie

28. June 2009 · Comments Off · Categories: recording projects, rock music · Tags: , , , ,

So my rock-band, side project, experiment in extended adolescence is a band called The Mendoza Lie. The band includes Dan Dumit on drums, Bob Parks on Bass and Chris Wagner on guitar.

This week we begin tracking for a new recording. Of fourteen songs we’ve written over the past year we’re recording eight. That’s mostly because I’m pretty quick to punt a song if I don’t like it. That’s not to say that the songs of the Mendoza Lie are supposed to be musical masterpieces. Quite the opposite. The Mendoza Lie is mostly about abandon, hook, and id; in short, a departure from the whole music composing thing.

Imagine Wipe Out versus I Guess I just wasn’t Made for these Times.

So when we first set about recording these songs we were sort of limp about it. Things weren’t tight, or confident, or even deliberate. That was about six months ago. With this recording we’re a lot more deliberate, and concise. The tempos are a bit faster. The tones a bit more brash.

Every recording project is a new experiment. Whether it’s with the technical aspects of micing technique, and placement, or the more artistic aspects of songwriting and arranging, or the craft elements of instrumentation. In addition to being an experiment, it’s also a fluid process. So, things don’t always come out the way you might have expected. Hopefully, that’s a good thing.

In the upcoming weeks I’ll hopefully have time to write about this process. Please stay tuned.

We’ll find a way regardless . . . To make some sense out of this mess” RIP Jay Bennett

27. May 2009 · Comments Off · Categories: composing, heros, people, songs · Tags: , , ,

I was starting a new band and a drummer musician friend from Kansas City by the name of Bill Belzer came over to talk about playing together and recording his new solo project.  Bill brought over Wilco’s new record, Summer Teeth.  We played a few songs and I was blown away.  I’d always liked Wilco, but in that alt-country way.  This album was different.  It was just more.  I looked at the liner notes and saw a name I recognized; Jay Bennett.

Jay Bennett in the studio

Jay Bennett in the studio


I knew Jay from Titanic Love Affair, a band  I loved because they were so Replacementsesque.  I’d met Jay in Lawrence after a TLA show and really liked the guy.  He was part of that mid-90s alternative millieu but avoided all the pose and bullshit so many of that crop of indie-rock guys put on.  So little pretense, it was obvious music was no “shot” for him.  It was his thing, it was what he immersed himself in.  Music clearly made Jay Bennett enjoy life.

Jay’s work on the Wilco stuff was remarkable for what he brought to a band that had previously made pretty good songs, clever lyrics, but the arrangements and instrumentation wasn’t there yet.  Jay Bennett changed all that.  He made Wilco into the band I grew to love, immitate, admire, and emulate.  Summer Teeth continues to be a record I go to whenever I start a new recording project. Jeff Tweedy’s clearly a great songwriter, but what Jay brought to the band in terms of instrumentation, arrangement, is what really made Wilco the amazing band they are today.

Jay died last week while I was on a motorcycle trip and incommunicado.  I came back to town and found a message from a freind mourning the death of Jay.  We don’t know the cause of his death, and clearly Jay was much too young to leave us.  I’d been really enjoying his solo work of late and following a legal fight over the royalties to some music from his Wilco days.  Jay Bennett was a loving man, the night I met him he was so kind and I half-wonder if the idea of suing his old friend and collaborator Jeff Tweedy didn’t really crush him in ways few of us will ever understand.

In the end, Jay Bennett was one of my musical heroes.  He met his end in his studio, Pieholden Suites.  Fitting, I suppose.

We’ll miss you, Jay.

Love, John

Mac McCaughan the film composer’s sage

11. March 2009 · Comments Off · Categories: composing, heros · Tags: , , , , ,

“One good minute could last me a whole year.”
– Mac McCaughan

When Mac McCaughan, one of my favorite song writers, wrote those lyrics, I don’t think he realized he was describing the plight of a film composer.

Fifteen minutes into scoring The Next American Dream and one thing is certain, one good minute really can last me the whole year.  Without getting too much into the minutia of the process, it’s amazing how far many different directions one minute of music composition can carry you.  A few well-chosen chords, and the right melody can lead you in so many different directions.

The key to the whole thing is finding that one good minute.   Finding the minute in the film, and hearing what it sounds like.  What song it’s singing.  Then, you let that one good minute lead you through the film musically.

I’m not trying to make this sound like it’s rocket science, because it’s not.  It’s not “easy” per se, it’s just that you have to listen.

So messed up, I want ya here. RIP Ron Asheton

06. January 2009 · Comments Off · Categories: heros, people, players, songs · Tags: , , , ,

It wasn’t the vocals or the lyrics that really caught me.  It was that riff coming out of the left speaker, then the sleigh bells on the right.  G, F#, E.  Dissonant, relentless with that unmistakable guitar tone and the insidious goof-ball solo that was all about what would become the name of a disastrous later album – Raw Power.  Two guys propel I Wanna Be Your Dog, the Asheton brothers.

Every show I’ve played in this millennium has included a cover of I Wanna Be Your Dog (Hell, I haven’t bought a guitar that didn’t drone G, F#, E as it’s first chords in my hands).  That started as an homage to my friend and mentor, Alejandro Escovedo (who would probably kill me for calling him a mentor).  The tradition gained a sense of urgency and reverence when Al collapsed and nearly died after a show in Phoenix in 2003.  And covering the song took on a new sense of rapture after Al returned to the stage in 2006.  But covering “Dog” wasn’t all just about Al.  Sometimes, you just can’t shake a great hook.

Ron Asheton

Ron Asheton

For me, Ron Asheton’s guitar playing always had this gorgeous blend of slop and accuracy – I call it the ever-important tension between abandon and unity.  Ron created this tension in every song.  In short, his playing was the living embodiment of the rock-n-roll convention of “living on the edge.”  Countless guitar players copped his approach.  Some even pulled it off, (Johnny Thunders, Bob Stinson, and a few others come to mind).  

Ron Asheton and the Stooges arguably gave rise to more authentic rock bands than any other guitar player/band combination.  It’s largely because Ron Asheton wrote recklessly gorgeous guitar parts paired perfectly with Iggy’s delivery.  For most of us The Stooges are the embodiment of everything good about punk and eventually everything too many indie rock bands never learned or forgot.

The Sooges

The Stooges

Though Madonna did her part, Ron Asheton lay dead  in his home for days never having been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Assholes . . . er . . . excuse me, “Fame.”  An indignity those of us not in the Stooges might consider absolutely insufferable, but one I’m pretty sure  Asheton shrugged off and would find completely appropriate.  After all, what fame did the world of mainstream music ever heap on the Stooges that wasn’t brought to them through a TV commercial?  And what more did Ron ever want besides to play?

There’s really nothing much more I can say about Ron Asheton, except, well, So messed up, I want ya here.  

Note to band-mates:  don’t expect to stop covering this song any time soon.