NEW ALBUM BLOG

[my3dtvtan]

Day 1

Travel Day

5.30am was my pick up time and although very early I was sort of looking forward to our short trip to Ribe/Denmark where we will be recording the new album. I know very little about Ribe apart from it's tiny and there is nothing to do so it's ideal for recording...no distractions. Anyway picked Scott and Ginger up from Heathrow and headed to Gatwick and our small aircraft and lots of free wine...Hey red wine for breakfast now that's cultured. 1.30 hr flight and we are in the land of sausage and smelly cheese.We stopped by a shop on the way to Hansen studios to pick up some supplies and nearly everything in the shop was either sausage or cheese based. Anyway we filled our bags and off we went to what will be our new home for the next 25 days...a farm in the middle of fucking nowhere. Jebus this is the land that time forgot...flat, featureless and smelling of cow shit...nice...Well we know the studio is good but what a suprise the living quarter was...We've named it Cell Block H as it resembles a prison, you know bunk beds and a shower that leaves a soapy taste in your mouth. Well fuck it lets just carry on drinking and enjoy our time here on the farm...and i'm the daddy and the boys are my bitches....CJ 1/04/09

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[Ean]

Day 2

First Day Of Recording

I woke up with the fear this morning. That all to familiar feeling that things had got messy the night before and a hang over screaming the fact that an apology phone call might be in order. One look at the common room confirmed my suspicion. It was nothing less than an apocalyptic landscape of empty bottles, cigar butts, and fruit mashed into every nook and cranny. As we stumbled around cleaning the ungodly mess, I started to remember the day before. We'd spent our first couple of hours here hanging out with the camels, horses, meerkats, and wallabies that live on the farm next door. Pretty surreal really, being half drunk hanging out with a fucking camel in the middle of Denmark.....huh? After that we headed home to continue the party. It all gets a bit blurry from there. I know there was some sort of food fight at some point. The walls caked with oranges and bananas could have told you that. The rest is just kind of a wash of talking shit at the table and loosing my phone. Good times. Today we started recording drums. Best thing in the world for an exquisite hang over. One song in and I'm ready to go home. Let the good times roll... Scotty

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[Ean]

Day 3

Cooking With Confidence

CJ is my absolute favourite cook in the world. Last night he made us an awesome prawn curry and this morning he ushered in a brand new day with bacon, eggs, pancakes and coffee. What a treat to be alive.

Every band should have a master chef.

Spent last getting very drunk indeed after walking the 500 miles to the local store with Ritch. We offset the trek with conversation about a new ballad we're writing, who's working lyrics are "I've got a dick in my ass, and I like it"
Think we may have to change the theme a little before it is complete.

Also had an awesome idea for a new track based around a dance loop and a huge live drum beat. Got back to HQ to work on the song, throwing ideas into the mix until we almost finished the song. Which is just as well really, as the alcohol had kicked in by then and I became DJ for the evening, irritating (Deerhoof) and entertaining (Torche) in equal measure.

We're actually awake and ready to rock before the producer today, a great feeling considering we're supposed to be the reprobate rock n roll guys.

Something about mornings get the creative juices flowing in plentiful abandon, and this morning our collective well seems to be hopping. Going to begin todays session by re-arranging the songs Plastic Jebus and John Of Violence.
We have decided to fire the song The Greatest Man Who Ever Walked On The Earth because it is too traditional and metal sounding.
We seem to be surrounded by European heavy metal magazines, and the close proximity of so many bald, angry men has pushed our boat out into decidedly more experimental waters, away from the comfort of the old riff dock.
A good thing I think. I'm tired of The Wildhearts sounding like a heavy metal band.

And anyway, we'll never be as good at that stuff as Mastodon.

Or Torche.

And we have too little body fat and much hair at 40.

Hey Ho Let's Get Creative, or something.

Ginger

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[Ean]

Day 4

Cowshit And Salmon

There's nothing like the potent stench of fresh cow shit in the morning to remind an urban dweller that they're far from home. And so it is, with great longing, that we tuck into a strong pot of joe and ready ourselves for Sunday on the farm.

We're still reeling, to be honest, from the portions of CJ's curry last night, another masterpiece ravaged by the starving hordes that we find ourselves becoming.
Typically the Danish hand of generosity has extended to us being given access to the local salmon farm by the owner of the camel/wallaby/meerkat collection next door. He's even given us exclusive use of his barbeque lodge, a very Swedish affair of pine and animal skins. An Ikea viking interface that seems perfectly at home in this most bizarre of settings.

CJ will later grab a rod and fish for our supper, which he will then cook and serve to our gastronomic delight. Such activity he savours as it keeps him out of the studio. Maybe if we put a stove next to the mixing desk we'd see more of the chap? No matter, he keeps our belly full while we arrange the music.

Pretty damned pleased with the idea for a new ballad we came up with last night. A potential hit in the making.

I say potential as it still seems unlikely that The Wildhearts will suffer the indignity of mass appeal.
I guess we've been bottom feeders for so long that commercial acceptance would appear to be a dish enjoyed by others with a more ambitious palette than ourselves.
Still, how delicious an irony would that be? After 15 years of underachieving, squandering and general meandering we stumbled upon a popular formula that took the band out of our self appointed comfort zone.

Would we still have CJ cooking for us?
Would we still discover camels living next door?
Or would we just employ a chef to cook us a fucking camel, like Bono probably does?

Doesn't he?

I think he does.

Ginger

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[Ean]

Day 5

Of Love And Insomnia

There's a strange and quite thrilling atmosphere in the air today.

Maybe it's the lack of sleep?
God knows I didn't sleep for more than a few hours last night.
Reading a dull book before bedtime, good idea. Reading Richard Pryor's autobiography, Prior Convictions? A very bad idea. Relieved to have finished it, truth be known. Motherfucker can't keep up all night no more (meant in Richard Pryor voice).

Maybe it was CJ's delicious salmon soup that made us all realise that we still enjoy each others company, even after all these years.

Maybe it was watching Pink Floyds 'The Making Of Dark Side Of The Moon' from the classic albums DVD series, in a bid to get myself to sleep in between revisits to Pryor's riveting tome? Another bad idea, unless, of course, the plan was to have WAY too much to think about to be able to sleep.

Whatever the reason I have been dragged into today with the notion that we should be a more successful band. For a lot of reasons.

Being cult underdogs is fun when your loyalty is to Carlsberg Super, amphetamine sulphate and bong hits, as well as 'da cause', naturally, but when you're away from your family making an album in another Country you get a sense that this is important. Way more important than keeping it real and sticking out yet another album of pop punk thrash to satisfy deadline pressures.

The collection of songs you are laying down must mean something, to you and to the people that hear them.
And then the people who will hear the band for the very first time based on this collection of songs.
And the new countries you will visit, in which you hope to open markets and make new friends using this set of songs.
And how this music connects with the people to whom the term 'fans' seems somehow inappropriate, people who have followed you through all the times of creative highs and embarrassing lows.

How do you satisfy everyone?

A true artist would say they must first satisfy themselves.

Then I guess I'm not a true artist.

I want YOU to love the new music, but not only that I want you to understand where we are coming from. To hear us speaking with you. To know that all we want is to live the times with you, times that we are lucky to have if we're still alive to experience them, and share the ride with you.
Our end of the bargain is to make music, and yours is to say "Yeah, it doesn't suck. Well done"
But that barely scratches the surface of what is really going on here. What has always been the most important element of our times together.
And we ARE doing this together. This life and these emotions. The ways that we choose to deal with the good and the bad. Sharing throughout.

It's always been this way, only right now it seems more important.

I dunno why.

Maybe I just needed to say this before this recording session turns into endless days of finishing off the songs, making sure guitars are in tune, okaying artwork and listening to the tracks a few hundred more times during mixing and mastering.

Maybe I just need some sleep?
Maybe I just need some coffee?

Or maybe we just don't say "I Love You" to each other enough?

Namaste.

Ginger

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[Ean]

Day 6

Gone Fishing

Day 6 and the studio is rocking but at a slow countryside pace. Everything is going well and I think we are all settled in and there is a routine to our days. Ritch is almost finished laying down the drums and he will leave on Wednesday which will leave myself, Ginger and Scott here to finish off the album.

Yesterday Scott and I went fishing on the farms Salmon lake and would you believe it Scott caught a fairly sizable fish which I dispatched with my club. Don't worry it was a quick death and suffering was kept to the bare minimum.
I've fished all my life but i do not fish for fun or sport, I fish for my food. I find it strange when folks go fishing just to put the poor creature back in the drink. If your going to real something in the least you can do is eat it. A piscatorial assassin I am but a person who enjoys seeing creatures suffer I'm not. Anyway I turned our gift from the gods in to Creamy Salmon & Potato Soup and a fine dish it was. Hey it's heaven to eat freshly caught fish and a rare treat for us.

Peace.....CJ 06/04/09

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[Ean]

Day 7

Hurrah!

Well, my time here is nearly done. It seems I've been a good boy and earned my parole and will be set free on Wednesday Afternoon. Just under a week here in Ribe and all the drum tracks have been laid down in the usual speedy yet precise fashion ready for the remaining members of the band to completely ruin my beautifully woven sonic tapestry of beats, breaks rhythms and fine time with guitars, bass, vocals and other such unnecessary nonsense cluttering the otherwise perfect display of precision percussion.

So tonight being my last night here I thought it only right to purchase a celebratory bottle of Jaegermeister to complement Cj's 3rd in one week curry, and to leave me to record the last track of the session tomorrow morning with a hangover from hell and to leave for blighty in that slightly paranoid uneasy beer fear frame of mind that I've left something important behind or have forgotten to record one of the album tracks.

Ritch


Still Day 7

Some Guys Have All The Luck

It seems that people are tired of my ramblings, so I'll leave myself out of todays blog and say only that I wish I was the drummer in The Wildhearts so I could go home tomorrow.

Lucky bastard.

Gx

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[Ean]

Day 8

Fucking Jaegermonster

Ouch!


Still Day 8

For The Love Of Music

Groggy and shaken, the four rock soldiers rouse themselves from a disjointed slumber to a fresh morning set almost at complete odds with their hapless disposition. With the safety of the future of rock in their shaky hands and armed with volume and riffs they set about the stormy task of creating sonic mastery. The sheer might of the tsunami of soundwaves cascading from the colossal speakers shaking off the cobwebs like a melodic elixir.

Or something.

Starting on bass and guitar today. Bass in one room and guitar in the other. Not the way we'd normally go about recording, naturally we'd play together with the drums, but we have a producer this time so we're listening to him with regards to making a killer album. We've also tuned down to C for most of the songs, occasionally D. It's something we've always toyed with but until we listened to Torche the other day and asked ourselves why our guitars always sound tinny on recordings, we'd been avoiding it. I assume we thought it was joining in with fashions to detune guitars, as everyone seems to be doing it. Fuck fashion, everyone is doing it because it sounds awesome. Huge. Grand. Powerful. Majestic. Expensive.

The quicker we lose this 'authenticity' thing the better.

It's great to be in the middle of the making of a truly great album.

• Great producer: check.
• Great studio: check.
• Great songs: check
• Open minds: check.

We've decided to turn our power ballad into a rock song now. We couldn't get to grips with how to write a Bryan Adams song so we opted for Pixies meets Weezer. Scott sings it now. I'm very relieved, I was starting to hate the song.

Sometimes when something seems to be going nowhere it's because it really is going nowhere. It takes a certain amount of courage to stop and turn around.
Even more to admit you're lost and let someone else drive!

Scott is turning into a truly great writer. He's even surprising himself with his compositions. Yesterday he knocked out a quick pop/rock thing, tentatively called 'Start Over, and now we're talking about it being a single.

There are actually quite a few potential singles on this album.

Bob Lefsetz thinks the album is over?

The guy has either have fallen out of love with enjoyment, or merely out of time.

Todays attention deficient internet nation needs to read the odd paperback in the middle of scouting for blogs, visit the odd gallery instead of assuming hi res is where it's at, and enjoy the pleasure of a truly great album instead of thinking they're getting the full picture from one isolated track.

Don't tell me the future will be one where people can't spend 40 minutes to listen to a good album, or that music needs to make a socio-political statement. Music should be whatever people want it to be.

What seems to be happening is that with the dissolution of record companies the dictators are now internet nerds with the need to rule what is essentially an artistic statement.
Animal Farm anyone?

Some things are better than the internet, and music is just one of them.

Don't deny your pleasure, people.

And if you waste your time buying music that is creatively substandard then let it be known. Set up a site where people can openly berate artists peddling mush that falls below a certain level of quality. Send the results to the artists management and record label, most artists are pretty easy to get hold of in these baby kissing, fan friendly days.
Send the results to every forum in the world. Let it be known that you're tired of being ripped off from purchasing music with only a commercial interest, and you want your money back.
Naturally cull the hordes of dross in order to make way for musicians actually willing to make music an artistic statement, not just a commercial one.

Those people still exist. Please buy their music, Metallica don't need your money.

Don't starve the true artist out of a living and don't buy Gun n Roses' album. Use xtorrent instead. Fuck U2, steal their album, they can afford it.

And shame on you if you download anything independent.

Peace and out.

Ginger

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[Ean]

Day 9

The Cardio Effect

Current mood: fabulous

Feeling great after a day without drinking, so went for a nice long run while the sun was coming up. This will be my new regime for a while now. Drinking is fun for a while but it gets very boring very quickly. The secret for me is to stop before it gets too dull and get back to pounding the streets with the ipod on shuffle. That way I get to enjoy the odd beer with the boys but remember that nothing feels better than being in shape.

The guitars really are sounding astounding!

This de-tune thing has way more advantages than disadvantages. Sure, they're a bitch to keep in tune, but when they're singing with the bass in perfect sonic harmony there are very few things more thrilling. Fuck man. What a glorious sound.

Jacob Hansen is a real perfectionist too, which is great for us. Normally we get off on the riffs and the general excitement of creating something brand new, but he hears every out of tune string and every slightly late guitar accent. It's going to be a pleasure doing vocals with him, but for now I can safely say that the guitars have NEVER sounded so expensive at this stage of recording than they do now.
This is all new to us. I guess this is probably the first time we've allowed ourselves to be anal about the sounds and the performance.
Absolutely no disrespect to anyone we've worked with before, the blame falls squarely on our shoulders. We've always been antagonistic bastards that will argue about the value of recording something in one take.

Thinking that nailing something in one take is a little like being able to drink anyone under the table. It makes the individual feel important but has very little value for anyone else.
Taking ones time and savouring the experience is an entirely more beneficial pastime.

Scott is writing some amazing lyrics, which I'm very happy about. Taking the weight from my shoulders is very welcome after years of having to write every word this band represents. I'm really thrilled that, with this new album, you will get to see what's on someone else's mind apart from mine. And Scott's mind is a fascinating place to gain VIP access into, believe me.

Still being impressed by this album on a daily basis. Which is new to me.
Normally, at this juncture I want to stay away until it sounds more coherent. And usually I can't as I'd be producing the bloody thing.
The passenger seat is a much better place in which to appreciate the scenery.

Tally-ho Jeeves, mines a mineral water.

Ginger

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[Ean]

Day 10

Snack Or Famine

Current mood: animated

Ouch! Ate breakfast a bit too close to running today. Should have stretched properly yesterday too. The result? I hurt like a motherfucker, but in a strangely pleasant way.

Denmark really is a beautiful place to go jogging around in. All sprawling fields and farmland. Running through areas where cows watch from within their iron prison enclosures sure makes a carnivore rethink the next steak. Pity, then, that God made filet mignon taste so fucking good, huh?

Anyway I always forget that fruit really makes sense when exercising again. It's like your rapidly detoxifying body is grabbing for those nutrients with real gratitude.
I also find that I want to smoke more when I'm getting fit. A friend of mine says it's because the extra lung capacity makes for a better smoking experience, and I can't help but agree.

Scott is putting down the first lead vocals of the album. It's really weird listening to a song he wrote, CJ played all the guitar on, and now Scott is singing. This delegation is what I always wished for with this band, and still it feels slightly odd. Like I'm listening to someone else's group who sound a bit like Weezer.
They're really good tho'.

Democracy within a band is a strange animal. At once impressive and slightly discomforting, like a large powerful dog. It is with great trepidation that I enter into a new phase for The Wildhearts and hope that I don't get my head bitten off.

I'm happy that I seem to be getting good internet signal recently. It was very sporadic for the first week, and then, with the departure of Ritch, the problem was no more.
Bloody drummers.

It's Easter weekend and we forgot to go shopping. No huge banquets for us then, although neither will there be alcohol for the entire Easter holiday.
Something I have a feeling I'm happier about than the rest of the guys.

For now I'm happy getting fit, eating healthy, writing my blogs, keeping up to speed with my internetworking and scribbling my reviews for Classic Rock (classicrockmagazine.com). Hey, I think there's one up today.
Hope it's the Good Rats one. You really must hear that album.

Also, check out The Damned 'So, Who's Paranoid?'. Mostly a return to Strawberries form, give or take the odd slight stinker. Still the good stuff on there is amazing.

Busy, busy, busy.
Healthy, healthy, healthy.

Ginger



Current mood: busy

Day 9 on the farm and the sun is shinning and the guitars are crushing. Been recording guitars for the last three days and the whole detune thing has really giving our sound a mighty kick up the old derriere. It's a joy working with Jacob as he has a very laid back approach to recording and gets the most amazing sounds with such little effort, a true sonic master. Had to kind of learn to play again as de tuning to C makes the strings very loose so you can't really lay into them so i have to be ever so gentle and can't thrash away like an Indian punk rocker. Really can't wait for you guys to hear this album, as it has a freshness about it, that for a band as old as we are is a suprise and a beautiful thing.
The living side of the studio is still prison like but it's amazing how quickly you can adapt to your surroundings and there is a rhythm to days now. Had a problem with flies as we are on a farm and these critters are everywhere. I hate killing anything but the final straw was coming in to my room and seeing at least a dozen diptera holding an orgy on my pillow...Hey i don't mind the odd orgy but not on my pillow, the least they could of done was get their own room. Anyway got some industrial strength fly killer and zapped the dirty little horny bastards. No more copulating insects...Nice
Well tonight the guys are gonna be eating Creamy Bacon & Potato Soup with added peas for a flash of colour....Lovely...

Monkey Boy.



We've been here over a week now and I think the initial shock of being in the middle of a feild has worn off. Tempers are begining to settle we're starting to ease into the swing of things. Maybe it's because we're starting to hear the record's potential, or maybe it's because our drummer has fucked off (hehe), but there's a certain electricity growing in the air around here. I just layed down the first vocals of the session. Not to shabby if I do say so my self. Anyway, back to work.....

Tattoo Neck

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[Ean]

Day 11

Lord Of The Flies

Current mood: bouncy

The solitary runner smiled at the shy old sun inching, with almost timid hesitation, atop the Danish landscape. With the choir of sparrows and finches cheering on its performance, like a reticent starlet appearing naked on the stage its confidence grew with every new shaft of sunlight that blasted away the dawns remnants from the blanket of cornfields.
The lonely runner no longer felt alone. The connection wasn't merely with the grand light show on offer, nor was it only with the birds providing the gleeful soundtrack, but with everything around.
'How could one not believe in a God, the supreme force behind all of this?', the runner silently remarked.
How indeed could the existence of the greatest power be denied in such circumstances? The runner needed to look no further than the butterfly crossing his path, whose origins could not be more far fetched than if fabricated by the greatest imaginations on earth.
An insect crawls into its self made sleeping bag, dissolves completely, then reforms as an entirely new organism which then flies out of the previous insect's cocoon.
'With', the runner remarked 'no more of a molecular link with that caterpillar as I have with the road beneath me'.
It would be stranger to think that there wasn't a God.

Me, on the other hand am starting to get really sick of these fucking flies.

Flies, man, they're like that episode of South Park with the super Nannies, where Cartman is incapable of behaving in a normal, rational manner.
Flies, man, they're in the house, they're in the studio. They shit on the plates, they puke on the food. They try to crawl around on your face, and when you 'shoo' them off, it's like they're annoyed at your for stopping them from shitting and puking on your lip?

So what is God's idea behind the fucking fly then?
Maybe the souls of those that caused suffering in others, sent here for one last bout of punishment to be the most annoying species on earth, and if they don't get swatted by a spatula looking contraption they'll get caught by a spider and slowly drained of their juices? A shit life for shit people?
Shit, you even eat shit. You live on shit. Then you shit your shit on a plate while you scavenge leftovers you can't eat unless they're covered in puke. Your puke.

They have a fly swatter in the studio with which they swipe these pesky fuckers to death with stealth like ease. I'm told it's the holes in a fly swatter that make it unnoticeable to a fly, the air between your hand and the fly being the dead giveaway for the little critter. I'm also told that swiping two rolled-up newspapers at once confuses the fly and makes them easier to target.

Until today I liked to think I was the kind of guy who would literally not hurt a fly, but if these motherfuckers don't stop landing on my mouth I'm getting me a swatter and I'm killing me some rapists.

Feeling very, very good.
I'm up before everyone again, having got my run in nice and early this morning. I like to run four songs there (wherever 'there' ends up being) and four songs back. With the ipod on shuffle sometimes you get Ramones and sometimes you get Rush. Today my ipod wanted to go out doors for longer so it cooked up some epics. Funny how they know, huh?

Yesterday we finished the vocals on Scott's as-yet-untitled song, and awesomely heavy slab of pop punk that sounds remarkably radio friendly.
It would be great to see the band garner a larger audience based on something that Scott sang. The new audience assuming that he's the lead singer, would then force me to take my dream role as guitar player and second vocalist.

Hey, you often get exactly what you wish for.

So God, if you're not too busy making flies out of corrupt politicians, I'd like to be Scott's back-up singer on the next album please. Can you make that happen?

-clicks heels three times-

Fuck, now there's even more flies.
We're not in Manhattan now, Toto.

Ginger



Day 10 and Ginger has started putting down his guitars and rocking it is. The whole sound has this warm fat wall of guitars that just make you feel good to be alive. Jacobs approach to recoding is very fresh and rather than just recording in blocks i.e. all the guitars then all the vocals, we are working on some guitars then some vocals so no one is getting too bogged down and it keeps things exciting. This whole laid back way of recording is appealing and new for us, as it sometimes gets stressful in the studio so anything to make the whole process more enjoyable is a bonus.
On the farm we are getting low on food, just 2 pizza's and a stick of garlic bread so it's off to the shop today for a major restock. Shopping here is a problem as the nearest town is 8 miles away and we do not have a car so the local shop has to do. Well stocked it isn't but it's better than nothing and with what it does have I can normally knock up something delicious....But alas, Lobster Thermidor will have to wait until we are back in Blighty......

CeeJ



Hey yall. Nothing much else to report. I've just been listening to Ginger lay down his parts while reading "PRYOR CONVICTIONS and OTHER LIFE SENTENCES" by Richard Pryor. It's kind of the perfect book at the moment. Takes away the monotony of being a fly on the wall. Makes me laugh my ass off on one of those days when you need it the most. Drinks anybody?....

Sorry

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[Ean]

Day 12

Peaceful Easter Feeling

Current mood: blessed

So it's like this, right. The farmer next door gives us three bicycles that he's kindly fixed up for us. Forgot all about them until last night when we're getting a bit stir crazy in the old house. CJ suggests we take them out for a spin, next thing we're pedaling like we're in the tour-de-France towards the North sea. We hit the beaches where you can almost see Newcastle, cycle along the coast until the road disappears into the waves, but the trees keep going, making a weird pathway into the depths of the water.
So we wait until the tide goes out and cycle across to Hamburg where we sell the bikes and head over to the nearest strip bar, where we're getting friendly with these three strippers. They take us in the back room where we're getting down to business, when all of a sudden we're being bound and gagged by these three Russian dudes. Turns out the strip bar is a front for the Russian mafia. They bundle us into the back of a van and drive us to Normandy where they nick our passports, shoot us all in the head and dispatch of the bodies in oil barrels.

Well, the story is true up until the bit where we wait for the tide to go out. At that point we rode the bikes across the beaten countryside to find the only bar within a ten mile radius, with a handy cashpoint about 100 yards away. With raging thirsts and a good old cardiovascular workout under our belts we conclude that it's okay to drink on Easter weekend.

Felt a little rough this morning, had to drag myself outdoors to run the 4 mile journey to the beach and back. They're always the best ones, those painful runs, where you can feel yourself gradually being well again. And so, while the boys sleep their few beers off I'm showered, coffee in hand and ready to face this wily ol' world.

The day is beautiful and so are you.

CJ will engineer todays session.
The studio is free and so are we.
Gonna put down some bass and generally take it easy.
It's Sunday, fer chrissakes.
Easter Sunday at that.

Hell, we'd take the day off if we didn't love doing this so much.

Hey, we still might.

Ginger

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[Ean]

Day 13

Isolation Sickness

Current mood: lonely

Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

Isolation fever begins to seep into the house like curdled smoke from a mysterious world somewhere outside of the present confines. A world where people mingle, internet exists, telephones link lovers in vital communication and television pumps information into the lives of the secluded.
Somewhere out there a tapestry of industrial sounds blend in familiar harmony, the soundtrack to a social picture in constant motion.

Here in the barren landscape of nowheresville we could be blissfully oblivious to mass worldwide devastation, to an aftermath of terrible warfare where hideously deformed mutant beings crawl from the remnants of all too recent destruction. The world could have stopped spinning on it's axis. Zombies could be roaming the earth. Giant Japanese monsters crushing every building in every seething metropolis. It could all be going on in the nearest City. We would never know.

Here all is quiet.
Eerily so.

The telephones have stopped working, although CJ has a weak signal that occasionally gives us access to civilisation.

Internet is a luxury not to be exploited. For a couple of hours a day the world of cyberspace is ours, teasing with promise, thrilling with information.

We are allowed to work until 4pm, although it has been known to last until 5pm on occasion, daily (except for Sundays. And National holidays), and from late afternoon until the fresh new morning conversation, held around a grimy wooden table under the last remaining lightbulb, is the final bastion of sanity. Talk of bright new futures, exciting and untapped resources and artistic merit permeate the darkness.
The quiet, threatening darkness.

Without sound or vision the evening grips like an evil parent. The threat much more terrifying than the punishment, which, of course, never arrives. There is only, ever, the constant drumming of the threat.
That awesome, desperate threat.

Slowly, resolve dissipates like oxygen.
Thrice told jokes no longer thrill.
A cold sweat spreads under unwashed garment.
A door creaks under the pressure.
Mice scuttle overhead through rooftop networks.
The silence suddenly begins to vibrate.
It's terrible hum oscillating in dark harmony.
Familiar and deadly.

Louder. Louder.
The direction of the dull, aching hum is impossible to pinpoint.
It is not inside the room. It is not outside the room.

The awful truth is the final thing to register before insanity battles zero defense.

The sound is coming from within the mind.

Collectively, we share the sound, the hum, the threat and the awesome darkness.

In silence we offer ourselves to the mercy of the silence.

And, of course, there is no mercy.

For there is nothing.





Ugh, can you imagine that? Thank God we have our bicycles.
Hurrah!

Ginger

Photographic evidence of the bike ride in question.

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[Ean]

Day 14

Happiness And The Infinite Wisdom

Current mood: inspired

Washing my socks and underwear in the sink this morning (we have no washing machine) left me with an odd feeling of DIY that I haven't felt since we started the band.
On one hand the band are skint, bored, restless and, for the best part, without communication, but on the other hand we are skint, bored, restless and, for the best part, without communication together.
A sense of bonding permeates the household that wouldn't exist with abundant food, drink and city life. A closeness stimulated by lack of stimulation.

We have no music to listen to, so we talk about music instead.
We have no TV so we create visual images using colourful conversation.
We have no washing machine so we get elbow deep in the suds and pummel our smalls as clean as the human hand is able to battle grime.

The producer hasn't been to the studio for the last two days so we've discovered the joy of cycling. What else but sheer boredom would promote such a move, or make a person want to go running at 6am?
This mornings run was spectacular. The ipod (shuffle mode) began the session gently with Tori Amos and, almost an hour later, brought me back to base with a bizarre remix of 'She's So Taboo' by Clam Abuse. I'm glad I didn't turn it off straight away, as was my immediate reaction, because by the end I was enjoying it's toneless, anti-melodic charm.

As I cooled down Tim McGraw's 'Carry On' began. I figured I'd switch it off and instead look forward to it ushering in tomorrows run, but the message still stayed with me. Carry on, through the thick and the thin. Through the sturm und drang.
When situations seem the most difficult to surmount is when you dig in deep for the strong stuff. The stuff of heroes. The stuff of champions.
Yes, things down on the farm aren't ideal, but neither are they impossible.

We will know when things are impossible, because we will be helpless.

We are not helpless. We merely asked the wrong question of the Universe.

"Can we make an air-tight, awesomely heavy/melodic and in-tune album with a, amazing European producer who specialises in huge sounds?"

And the Universe heard us.

The Universe is like a computer, and if you ask it for porn it will give you porn.
Unless, however, you express, in detail, exactly what porn you want you may well end up with your 'girl-on-girl' bundled up in a greatest hits medley of 'boy-on-boy', 'girl-on-shetland pony' and 'grandma-on-midget'.
See? You have to be detail specific if you want the Universe to work for you.

And I believe it wants to work for you, it wants to make you happy.

I also believe that the law of life is to be exactly who you are. Just do it to your full capability. Whatever, and whoever that is.

So, you see how complicated things can get for the Universe?

There is no right or wrong way, there are no rules, just a ton of different types of folk asking for different stuff. And the Universe obliges, as best she can, based on detail, or lack thereof.

And so the next time we make an album we want pretty girls, interesting people, all night bars, late night shopping, bright lights and WAY too much stuff to do.
As well as a great producer.
(Preferably a workaholic who works late.)

We have received EXACTLY what we asked for, nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

And for that we are truly thankful.



And with that we head in to make some noise.
Or at least we will when the producer turns up.

(more later.....)


Ginger



The Monkey And The Neck

Life on the farm is not for everyone, being here has made me realize just how much I love the city. I never miss London when I'm in an exotic country but Denmark is far from exotic and I'm so homesick for my dirty metropolis. Life that's what I need, as here in the country side everything is so slow it can seem you're in a constant daze, going backwards and quietly rotting in to the earth. Our bikes are a tiny slice of freedom and just riding about in the lanes is enough stimulation to remind yourself that you're still alive and that we are here to make music. Sometimes I see dead people in my room but that's just boredom and when we are recording it all makes sense again. We are still working on guitars but a large chunk of the music is recorded and I think we'll be on vocals tomorrow. Every day our album moves forward and that means the end is closer. I for one will kiss the ground when I leave the farm and forever be thankful for the constant riot of my fair city....London!!!

Monkey Boy



After the frustration of spending the day trying to fix my damn phone (which decided to stop working out of the blue 2 days ago...WOOHOO!), CJ and I decided to take the bikes out again today. It's fucking gorgeous out so we decided to take a ride down to the water and back just to get some fresh air. We cruised along effortlessly until we reached the end of the road. I slowed down to almost a complete stop, hit some loose gravel, and totally bailed. Yes I did. As CJ doubled over in laughter, I had a nervous flash back and remembered the last time I crashed a bike. I was living in LA and had spent the whole summer being as bad as I could possibly be. After a week long stint of not sleeping and staying constantly drunk I decided to ride my bike from the valley into Hollywood. I was flying down Vine as fast as I could when I hit a hidden tree root in the sidewalk and flipped over the handle bars. Not only did I flip OVER the handle bars but I held ON to the handle bars and brought the whole bike down on top of me. Fucked me up good. Crushed the small finger on my right hand and put me in the hospital for a week. It was kind of like God saying "Hey Sorry..Slow the fuck down or I'm gonna make you my self!". Two weeks later I left LA for good. Good times.......

Tattoo Neck



Stuff

Wow, this tuning down lark is a bit infuriating. Take after take of tuning up and tuning down can drive a rocker to distraction.


CJ tuning up...again.

Modern recording is a bit odd too. No song is played from start to finish. Parts are edited and supplanted into other parts of the song using Jacob's amazing cyber pen contraption. It's weird, anyone can make a terrific album these days. The age of having to be able to play is behind us, ladies and gentlemen.


Our fearless captain, Jacob Hanson. A man who eats de-tuning for a living.

And as for open chords, well tuning as low as C makes them pretty impossible to play, so you opt for bar chords and if you absolutely MUST have an open chord section you play every chord separately, having to tune each chord to the song before playing it. Bizarre stuff.


The axes that enable us to be de-tuned motherfuckers.

The future isn't as rock n roll as the past, but then neither is it as sloppy.

The results, however, are amazing. Truly amazing.


Amazing results hit our heroes.

I never thought we'd sound so good!
Yeah, okay, with a little help from pro tools, but still, ya gotta write the shit in the first place. Pro tools ain't gonna write you a chorus or come up with a huge riff, is it?
Oh no, pro tools is our bitch, and no doubt about it.


Scott and Martin contemplate the awesome handiness that is pro tools.

CJ found a skeleton of a huge animal, completely full apart from the head. Makes me imagine Satanists lurking in the corn fields, or tiny critters with fearsome teeth attacking the wildlife.
Anyhoo, I'm going to get photographic evidence later, so hopefully I'll have proof of his find for you by the time you read this.

Other than that it's business as usual for your merry band of miscreants, mendicants and minstrels.

It's been a good day.

I think the Universe liked my 'stay positive, dammit' stance today, because she blessed me with a day full of gratitude and promise.
And for that I'm sticking with the brand loyalty of optimism over frustrated rage.

It's all about perception. y'know? 100%.

Ginger

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[Ean]

Day 15

Can somebody Please Mend Our Broken Bass Player?

Current mood: groggy

Doing vocals right now, and they're sounding sweet, and awesomely in tune. It's a refreshing soundtrack to a sluggish day, the result of last nights surprise party.
The Jackson Whites is lower than we've been playing it live, and is now much more menacing for it. The Greatest Man Who Ever Walked On The Earth wasn't looking likely to make the album but it sounds so good now that it is, once again, a contender.



After blissing out on the bicycle yesterday, intending to just find the mysterious skeleton of the Fjords I ultimately got progressively and more wildly involved in nature and the cardiovascular properties of cycling, Arriving home hours later than intended the boys had already eaten and were getting concerned about where I was, my bicycle and laptop nowhere to be seen. The laptop was actually resting in the studio where the signal is stronger, and the bicycle was under my ass the whole time, but CJ thought our producer may have locked my computer in the studio and so I'd gone to the water to drown myself, unable to bear an evening without internet.

The truth wouldn't be too far from the joke.

The internet has thoroughly saved my bacon while we've been cocooned in nomadic seclusion. Without Twitter (are you all Tweeting yet? you MUST get yourself into the TweetDeck), Facebook and Skype I've no idea how I'd be doing now.
And without being able to communicate with you through these blogs I'm not sure how I'd keep myself mentally agile.

Without doubt a terrifying thought.


Anyway, on arriving back at the ranch after my adventure, I was beckoned over by a smiling CJ to a blazing fire, some crates of beer and our neighbours, the people kind enough to loan us the bikes, entertaining Scott, CJ and yet another thoroughly decent Danish neighbour.
Stories were told, free beers were downed and logs were burned as we relaxed by the fire to the sound of salmon leaping in the pond behind us.
Long after dark me and Scott took the party indoors where we gently tore the world apart and gently reassembled it as a mended place.

Which is more than can be said for Scott's phone.
In his ongoing communication breakdown saga we opened his troublesome mobile to find that the insides appeared to have been up an elephants arse. Nothing else could fully explain the filth and grime seemingly holding the thing together.

Scott's temper has been temporarily cooled as our manager is sending him a new phone. The household will once again bounce happily along with the welcome arrival of the new cell phone, until then tension will reign, so thank God for evenings like yesterday.

Scott is angry again, again.

And thank God for the generosity of Danish people.

Ginger

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