Close to complete this sound for the scene the noise that we boys and girls hopes makes the Sleepless heard (ironically this sound’s for something dubbed a seen), the process was as lovely vulgar as a sawn violin; okay, not nearly, but simply one step singly:
1. Buy 7lb gourd. Dry out for nine months. Cut. Hollow out guts. Bake. Harden. Strap with singy-toned guitar wires via pretty blue painter’s tape. Bridge with PCI backplate. Bind ‘n Sling over’n’round microphone. Amp crazy in makeshift acoustic womb. Hit record (not ‘wreck, ord,’ but ‘as if to cord again.’ Play violin. Mix, foldle, spondle, perfomate, and lastly slide off one eMail to Euterpe (mp3 attached) to beg She dub this scatter of sound “music.” Wait for her reply.
Soon’s I hear back, I’ll post the track. In the meantime, some pudding, playing, and a pict’cher of a poser a la pose:
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m’Gourd cloze’p and floozy
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this smell dichotomous, earthy and surreal
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with love to chantale, my pandoric chaotician
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serendipliciousness
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ooh, so gourd
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not sleaping. omg, swear
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h0t r4tz
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Violin + Friendly Mutton Chops = Badass Violinist
Cheers,
TM