heaven's hazer, god's laser

good morning ~

(click the link / fogged out dance floor to listen)

My Big Breakheaven's hazer, god's laser

today’s track is a massive, undulating drone I made through aggressively manipulating cassette recordings of my piano

playing a really cute gig on Sunday at Tubby’s - opening the (very rare) Sachiko Kanenobu set with some kind of ambient drone ceremony - it’s early and tickets might sell out so go on ahead

There's so much that can go wrong. Gear breaks, people freak, the plan goes to shit. And the more people that show up for a gig, the more invitations to chaos that get mailed out - every ticket bought is a stamp licked. At one point when I was really freaked out about sluggish ticket pre-sales I reassured myself with the knowledge that a couple hundred less people than we expected would mean that the parking lot and the bathrooms wouldn't ever reach their capacity, some comfort. But the people did show up and through the grace of god nothing terrible happened. I think we might have even had a good time, possibly.

The festival actually began many months ago when our schedule for the year got all higgledy piggledy - permanent construction once again meant we had to shift things around and all of a sudden a party I hoped to throw in July got bumped off its Friday. Fortunately the promoter had another party he was looking to land in the area with two DJs I love dancing to on a night we happened to be planning a weekend of art and music. We had the basic shape - house music on Friday, live music on Saturday, and something family friendly on Sunday.

In a very real way, gigs begin as soon as the people planning them have the idea. The booking, the organizing, the design of the flyer, the language in the advertising, all of this is part of the determining sum of the event's vibe. If you do not approach your planning emails, your graphics, even your accounting with earnest enthusiasm and hope, you inevitably doom the endeavor to be lame. If you're the one organizing something and you want it to be good, you've also got to be the one willing it into being.

So after many hours spent hoping and countless emails between Brandon and myself, it was of course very surreal to see the sound system arrive on Friday. The speakers completely filled an 18' box truck and took up a considerable portion of the room - they apparently recently added some additional side fill speakers - each of considerable size - rescued from a foreclosed movie theater. What was even more surreal for me is that - trusting my coworker and my hired help to handle it - I went home for a quick nap and a shower, a previously unthinkable luxury. When I arrived back on site they were mid soundcheck and just absolutely blasting the place - kick drum truly felt like a foot to the gut. At the very last minute Michael pulled a heroic switcheroo - the hazer wasn't working the way he liked so he dashed home and brought in a backup, got the place to low visibility and maximum laser just in time. But besides that the night went on pretty much uneventfully - every time it seemed like someone had partied too hard they came back to earth with a water and a walk and really it was only people that got fucked up, everything else went smoothly and we very quickly sold out of all of our tequila drinks.

As planned, the last record spun brought the party to a close right at 4am. We began breaking it down, sweeping it up, pouring out the prodigious amount of empties left on the various flat surfaces surrounding the dance floor. I helped a few people figure out rides and carpools - a couple of brave souls intended to wait for the morning's first Amtrak and another may or may not have slept on our patio furniture. Building cleared and locked, I drove the crew to their AirBnB and headed home myself in the pink light of the first blush of sunrise - heaven's hazer, god's laser.

On Saturday we soldiered forth - a very long day of music, changeovers every 45 minutes, we ran completely out of beer. The performers brought it, gauntlets thrown down, and people kept buying tickets at the door. I started seeing people walking around in the merch I had designed, always a wonderful feeling. I watched the performers in the North Hall from cracks in the windows, I watched Main Hall performers from the slid open door of the loft. When I told the band Couch Slut that their set was sick they offered me a sniff of pig sweat in reply, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. Later I got to watch Q's poetry reading from up in the green room - lit harshly by a single spotlight, it was impossible to see what lay beyond - an off-white void. So it was particularly delightful to hear the moans, groans, and screams they coaxed from the listeners - they tossed their sounds back up to us. In order to cue the end of the Pussy Riot Siberia set I had to plop down on stage in the middle of all of their feedback with one of the wands we use to direct parking - feedback, a sound bath from a firehouse. And then the Lightning Bolt set was so intense I did not feel like I could even fully see it - alternating red and blue lights and a flurry of music, super sick beyond my perception. After that there was only one last thing to worry about - would people dance during the afterparty? They did, so cutely. Chase walked around with his camera flash on and people kept striking poses.

Sunday was a victory lap, kids eating free ice cream and abusing a rainbow parachute. Perhaps it was the total exhaustion or perhaps they really were that inspiring, but I found myself incredibly moved hearing the Rock Academy teens perform - they hit the high notes and everyone was so proud, maybe playing and organizing music for other human beings is actually worth it. How long will I still have a job doing this? Is my livelihood still on the line? Hard to say. But at least the work was good for a weekend or two.

But what about you? Have you done any big lifts lately? Have you ever tried to catalog all the things that can go wrong? Have you been hit with god’s laser lately?