words

…no more record. Which sucks. And blows. Sigh…

Actually, now there IS a record, albeit a short one. It’s good, too. I like it, anyway. Here are the names of it’s songs:

Vena Cava

Hot Pink, Distorted

Animal

Pretty Ugly

The Fuschia Wall

We had a cheap champagne party on the last night of mixing during which Mudrock got a phone call from a Boston friend who asked him what he was working on. He told him, “50FootWave, Kristin Hersh’s new band,” to which the other-end-of-the-phone-guy says, “Oh yeah? My friend’s recording Kristin Hersh’s son’s band in Boston today.” Mudrock reaches the end of the conversation, looks at me and says, “Do you have another son? I mean other than the 3 that are here?” I nod and he says, spookily, “I know where he is.”

Turns out Dylan’s band, Happy Birthday L.A., was making their record in Boston at the very same time his dear ol’ mom’s creaky old band was churning out their’s on the opposite coast. And Happy Birthday L.A. makes 50FootWave sound like a Juicy Fruit commercial. Grown up babies all doin’ their thing and whatnot. How genuinely weird.

Love,

Kristin

5 songs in 5 days. What the hell? But it happened and it sounds really good. Mostly because Mud rocks. And so does Rob, who was in charge of playing basic tracks over which Bernie and I could do no wrong.

Really, it was 5 songs in 3 days, with 2 days of mixing. And mixing sounds the death knell of any recording session, so it’s when I start to get nervous. I’m desperately addicted to working. When I’m recording, I’m so happy I can hardly sleep; I just wanna drive out to the studio, break in and work until everybody else wakes up.

I’m gonna need a serious habit to break my addiction to playing with 50FootWave until we’re back out on the road. Smoking? Knitting? Playing acoustic guitar all by myself? Ouch.

This is not gonna be pretty.

Love,

Kristin

We are back in lovely, ugly LA and it feels good. Nobody does lime green like the city of Los Angeles.

After 2 days of rehearsal in Our New Practice Space (the new Pasadena Rehearsal Studios: an amazing building, beautiful, funny people, great pizza, a Leggo room!) we began recording yesterday morning. Rob’s basic tracks were almost done by the time Bernie and I left late last night, so I’m expecting the new recording is well on its way by now (“I’m making a record…while I sleep!”). I’m not exactly sure what Rob thought he was gonna do without us, but he seemed to have a plan, so we left him to it.

We are working with the producer, Mudrock, ex-Boston guy, in the Eagle Rock studio he built pretty much with his bare hands. So far, he’s really cool…very musical, with a buttload of amps and stomp boxes, a good ear for bass AND drum sounds and a catalogue of a brain when it comes to bands and recordings of the last 20 years. Yesterday, I tried like, 50 guitars before we settled on our top 5 favorite sounds and Mudrock had a credible reference for each sound. I was impressed.

He also makes really strong coffee. I learned to make black, silt-like coffee in New Orleans and I get a lot of shit for it from people who almost die when they drink it. It’s nice to be poisoned by someone else for a change.

Love,

Kristin

Thank you, NY people, for filling the Knitting Factory with warm, fuzzy feelings the other night. I didn’t really know what was going to happen when I sat down to play old Throwing Muses songs (I’m confused by my relationship with Mr. Automatic Pilot), but you all made it easy.

And I got it…I don’t always. I LIKED the songs when I heard them through your filter. That’s a big, fat present- so thanks for that, too.

You even carried me through new solo songs and Appalachian folk songs I don’t know very well. You’re good listeners and sweet people. Or maybe you’re just good pals, so…here’s some warm fuzzy right back at ya.

Love,
Kristin

I’ve been practicing for hours…I have to learn Throwing Muses and Kristin Hersh songs for these retrospective-y shows I’m doing in New York and London. You’d think I’d be familiar with Throwing Muses and Kristin Hersh songs by now, but…you’d be surprised. It’s like asking someone to recite passages from old diaries. They resonate but I can’t quite remember how they go or why I still keep ’em around (and why are there so MANY?).

It could be an attitude problem because right now I’m not a fan of either of those 2 artists (did we have to make up ALL the chords?). I finally gave up and wandered into the bedroom across the hall where Billy was playing the silver baritone guitar he bought in Ann Arbor (I’ve always coveted it) and the children were writing songs. Much better songs than the ones I’ve been playing, though no less odd.

The best one was about a salmon with a toothpick in his forehead who learned to acclimate himself to the jolts of an electric eel with the help of jellyfish. It rhymed “cheddar cheeese” with “sandwicheeees” and it was called, “The Fear of Shocking Things”.

I was still laughing when Wyatt (the 8 year old) said, “Mom always gets the present mixed up with the past” and did a fair impression of me drawling, “I remember now.”

Maybe that’s my problem. I only remember NOW.

Love,

Kristin