An Open Letter to My MLA

I have never written to my elected representative before. Ok...I did once. I was in Toronto and wrote one to The Hon. Bob Rae. I heard nothing back. Quelle Supreeeze.


Alas, this is different....

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To: Suzanne Lohnes- Croft, MLA  and Mark Furey, MLA

I write to you to voice my disgust over the cutting of the Film and TV tax credit in yesterday’s budget.

Clearly there is a great deal of shock and incredulity in the industry. The abrupt and severe nature of this change at such a crucial time is breathtaking.

I need to emphasize that the complaints being voiced are not simply those of a group of whining socialists upset at losing their government handout. Already the bigger players have made their intentions to leave very clear: DHX, Trailer Park Boys, This Hour Has 22 Minutes. They are the big fish. But It is the small ones, of which I am one of many, who will be seriously impacted and perhaps destroyed.

Your government- indeed, all Nova Scotia governments- pay lip service to “regional development” and finding ways to keep skilled young people in the province. Your budget manages to thoroughly dispel that notion, and would be comical if the consequences were not so dire. Indeed, it would be hard to inflict more damage on these two areas if you tried.

I moved here (Lunenburg) 4 years ago from Toronto. I love this place. While some of my work (audio and music for film and TV) is international, I have been gradually building my local business.  The astonishing number of creative people and businesses here presented a wonderful opportunity. That changed yesterday. As it stands I will personally lose about $30,000 of local (NS) business. That’s just this year. My clients, equally devastated and blind-sided, have put their productions on hold or cancelled them. That $30,000 gone is money I will not be paying tax on. Nor will I be hiring young assistants (to whom I pay good wages) to help me with this work. They won’t be paying tax on it here either. Indeed, they will likely leave the province of their birth and move and work and pay taxes in Ontario or BC. It is not an overstatement to say it’s another generation gone from a place that badly needs skilled young people to contribute. I taught many aspiring people when I was an instructor at the Centre for Arts and Technology in Halifax (now the DaVinci Scool of Arts and Technology). There, too, is more potential collateral damage: why would young people choose to stay and educate themselves here when there are no job opportunities in the local industry?

I understand difficult decisions need to be made come budget time. And even though I am usually a fiscal conservative and generally don’t think government should meddle in the economy I know you often do and often must. However, if you are to meddle, your meddling must be beneficial. In that light, then, I don’t think your government has any concept of the scope of consequences that will ensue from this budget. From carpenters, to audio engineers, set designers to retailers to restaurants and tour operators to car rental companies to film and TV post production houses; it’s truly not just the film and TV industry but tourism and the trades as well. So many jobs-good paying ones- and opportunities will be lost. Numbers are often bandied about, but it’s clear that $25 million in tax breaks has a huge positive echo effect on the economy overall- in rural areas as well has Halifax.

In contrast, your government had no trouble giving RBC- a multi-billion dollar earning corporation- a $22 million dollar tax incentive to create 125 low-level jobs. In the Halifax area. That decision was clearly not impacted and RBC were never in danger of losing this subsidy, were they?  125 minimum wage jobs for $22 million is OK. But $25 million for an entire industry and its many associated spinoffs that generates 5 or 10 times that amount is somehow “unaffordable”. It’s really quite difficult to fathom.

I have often voted Liberal an both the federal and provincial level. I am aghast that anyone who considers themselves a Liberal (or a liberal) would take these actions against an entire industry so swiftly and so thoughtlessly. If this goes through as proposed, I predict you will experience very negative repercussions in the next election. And for eviscerating a thriving industry you would deserve no less.

Respectfully,

David Findlay

My Cell Phone is Satan

I hate my cell phone. I have had quite a few over the last 17 years and this one is the worst. By far. It’s also a little bit too big and doesn’t quite fit in the hand easily. I am pretty good with technological things as I work with them every day. But unless I spend 20 hours a day on it like most millenials, it is destined to piss me off forever.

And it does the most clever things of any other I have owned: Blackberry, iPhone (just an old-fashioned 3), various Samsungs and flip phones. It is a Sony Xperia android. Oh yes, it’s sexy. It has all sorts of cool apps. Hearing tests (not something I enjoy when the news ain’t good), tempo tap (very useful in my line of work), Shazam (a great way to play “name that tune”), online banking (about as much fun as the hearing test), various viewers and things that go “boing”. It is a smart phone. I preferred my stupid phones.

It has so many applications, I can’t keep track of them all. I also cannot stop it from randomly opening Skype, iTunes, Tetris, Face Time…usually all at once while it spontaneously phones New Zealand. It does this whether I am there or not- sometimes while in my pocket. The New Zealand girls really like me and their accents are cute. But even if I think I closed everything, the next time I look at it, there are 15 apps open and it’s sending course-correction signals to Voyageur 2.

Then there is texting. I know I have a preference for words like “fuck”, “douchebag” and “smegma”, but my phone knows what’s better for me. Yes, Nanny. I tried to text “SOCAN” (something with which I have a recurring relationship) today and it took me about 8 tries. By the time it would do it, it was the day after tomorrow. And though it’s very creative making up words and putting them in a sentence, the humor is lost on me when I need to send a quick message to my wife.

For example: In place of “Do you want me to pick up some wine?” (another recurring relationship…) it will send “Dwight packs wieners”. With all due respect to Dwight, I could stop the grapes and ferment them faster than sending a message. It’s a good thing Janine is smarter than the phone. She knows enough to tell Dwight to “pick up 2 bottles…” Maybe it has something to do with his wieners.

And then there is the phone part. Try calling someone who has just texted you. It offers you a browser.

No thanks, just dial that number.

iTunes?

No….just call THIS number (thumping on glass)

Open address book (wait 7 minutes for that to open)

Noooo! Just call the number you stupid bastard. (back to square one….pressing on number of text…)

You mean you want to call this number?

Yes, fuckface. Now do it!

Using phone or text?

PHONE!

Once, or always?

Always!! You cretin. (this will be an issue next time you want to text)

Phone finally rings…call proceeds.

Of course, the light goes off after 5 seconds. If you press the wrong button- not the one on the side- you will disconnect yourself. You can change the setting…but if you keep it on too long will stay on so long your full charge will last about 45 minutes. After an over night sitting (untouched except by the ghosts of the house) I will check the phone and see 12 new icons open at the top. As if magic fingers turned everything on. Maybe it gets lonely and wants to entertain itself.

Oh, and it randomly turns the ringer completely off. Especially after I have charged it. Nice feature.

Yes kids: 2 more years on the contract….

Other than that, it’s great. I Love it.

Still Hanging In

I have written before on the art of "hanging in". It's one of those things that tends to separate the successful from the not-so-successful. I recently saw this pie chart of Facebook. Clearly, my music degree(s) were a complete waste of money, if this chart has any validity.

Yes, a music degree can help you to teach (done that, and still do), perform (did that too- though, to be honest, I am not crazy about doing too much of it... though I do), compose (yes...in the last 4 months I have composed about 5 hours of music. Not for free, either). And if all goes as planned I should be able to avoid the die in poverty thing. (A certain financial institution almost made that happen, but I managed to dodge that bullet thankyouverymuch. I hope their penises fall off spontaneously.)

So here I am still at it. And that, dahlings, is the key to whatever success I enjoy. I am a stubborn bastard.

I am approaching my "Freedom 55" birthday. That term, for you non-Canucks, comes from an advertisement a number of years ago promising Financial Freedom to do whatever you wanted to do without that pesky requirement of actually working for a living. You know...you invest so wisely (with London Life- who knew insurance was that sexy!) that you are playing shuffleboard in some resort, your Depends never leaking and your Polydent sticking fast to your gums. Indeed, you can now live the next 35 years doing absolutely nothing of value and live your days in a constant state of vacation!

I'd rather shoot myself.

You see, when I win the lottery (I am expecting to do so in the next week or 2...you heard it here first) I am not going going to quit anything. I am going to do exactly what I am currently doing. Though I might have a couple of pieces of new gear. Freedom 55 was likely a myth in 1989, and it still is today. And I already had the pleasure of telling the aforementioned financial institution to shove their bank up their ass- one branch at a time. I was, however,  much more genteel about it. I have too much fucking class to do otherwise. It was better than retiring. Or almost.

And as I have told a number of my friends and colleagues of the musical persuasion: why would you want to retire? And retire from what? Might be different if you were a dentist. Or a Claims Adjustor. Or a proctologist. How many of them might be inspired to become musicians once they change careers? Indeed, one should do what one has always wanted to do before you are too dead to do it.

I was contemplating this great wisdom last week when I got a call from my old friend Dutch Robinson. He has written and recorded a new song in tribute to the late Pete Seeger entitled, "I'm Glad I Knew You". Dutch and I go way back- 33 years to be precise- when I recorded him for the first time.

Those were interesting days. (Geek alert coming....) Dutch and I were among the first people to record using  Linn Drums. We set them up in the control room and everyone eyed this mysterious box suspiciously. You could record a song without a drummer and still have kinda "real-sounding" drums. As an added bonus, this machine would not try and sleep with your girlfriend, would not get shit-faced before a gig and would only play fills you had programmed.

Anyway, my fave Dutch Robinson story is about a session we were doing quite late at night. There were a lot of people in the control room- none of whom I knew. Some were a little, uh, scary-looking. I, with my head down ignoring the more bizarre goings-on was recording a sax part when I  accidentally erased part of his lead vocal.

Yes, kids, there was no CONTROL-Z in those days. It was gone. For good. I thought I was a dead man...how was I going to tell Dutch, to stand up to this seasoned, experienced industry professional (who is about a foot taller than me...) and inform him of what I have done.

So I did. "Um...Dutch...man I am really sorry...but...aww...I mean....I...uh...erased part of your vocal...I am, like...soooo fucking sorry..."

He shrugged and smiled. "Don't worry about it. I'll juss' go do it again."

And he did. Perfectly. One take. As usual.

So, yes, I have been a huge fan of this man ever since. A real class-act.

So, last week he asked me to mix "I'm Glad I Knew You" for him. It will be an honour and a thrill to work together again after all this time.

He is 68 years old. Still writing, recording and performing. He's singing and mentoring young artists- even in the Hip-Hop world. Yes, young people making music hanging on to his every word and benefiting from his incredible experience. He will be on tour with DRUM this summer before heading to tour the UK and Europe in the fall to support his new album.

So much for Freedom 55. So much for retiring, so much for quitting. I told him yesterday how much I admire that- his work and creative schedule is something we should all be doing. That's what "hanging-in" is all about.

Indeed, he will do what he loves until he can't anymore. He has always and will continue to "hang in". And so will I. There really isn't another option.

Geek Alert

I am a geek. It’s official. Not that there was ever any doubt.This is a post for geeky folk. If you are not one, I will write one next week that is way more sexy. Promise.

I am, and always have been, very into groovy audio gear. I had no difficulty memorizing microphone models- and can still identify almost anything. I got practice and a young nipper with all the audio equipment I bought in the 70’s. Ask me anything about the SX-series Pioneer receivers. I spent hours reading and memorizing the specs.

Part of being into audio and recording is gear. Toys. Anyone into it is automatically a gear slut. It's inevitable. You take great delight in discussing microphone pre-amps and compressors. It’s very tedious for the non-audio-inclined. But to the audio geek, it’s like porn. Better, even. And being old enough to remember the good ol' days, I can even go on about Old Gear. Tape machines. Tape. Dolby-A units, which I am sure I could still align. If there is a more useless skill to have, I'd like to know what it is.

Anyway, I was discussing such matters with my friend and colleague Tony Murphy, who had just bought himself  a groovy new pre-amp for Christmas. It’s a Chinese-made version of the delicious, vintage Neve 1073. If you have ever used one of those, it’s hard to forget the experience. Sort of like your first government audit. There are software emulations like the one made by UA (I have that, naturally) but the Neve hardware is hard to come by. And if you do, you’ll need a 2^nd mortgage on the house to buy it. But it's worth it. I know your wife will agree.

Tony’s new toy piece of equipment was about $300. The price was still on the box. Not bad. Amid much tire- kicking, he asked me if I wanted to take it home and give it a spin. After careful deliberation about 1 second I said, “Ya. Sure.”

I compared it briefly with my Focusrite 428 and my tube-driven Drawmer 1960. The mic: a Neumann TLM- 103. Not getting to use it in a full session, I still tried the combinations recording some caterwauling vocals and some staggeringly inept guitar.

The results? Well, as I said to Tony, the Focusrite was more transparent. So was the Drawmer. But the 1073 knockoff was not bad either- “record-y”, as you might say. A little furry, but plenty of gain and remarkably low noise. Sometime you want a little “warmth”. Wish I could have used it on a snare drum. And doesn't every studio need some variety and choice in equipment? Of course it does.

Considering the price differential (The Focusrite and Drawmer are both about 11 times the price…) it stood up quite well. The same guy who designed this is also putting out a U67 knockoff (yes, I know there are a bunch of those already…but this might be a good one) also for about $300. I will be making room on my corporate Visa for it. You can never have too many microphones. Or compressors. Or signal processors. Or software.

Here is a picture of the beast in question. It’s pretty:

Being There

Among the other groovy things I have been doing lately, I have been teaching again.

I have always rather enjoyed it, and for me it is a way of giving back. In my current part-time teaching gig I have to opportunity to work with young adults who are aspiring audio engineers, producers, film- makers or musicians. I have taught a bunch of courses ranging from Location Audio to Film Scoring to Career Management.

It’s wonderful that I no longer have to deal with classroom discipline problems. ‘Johnny’ can tell me to “fuck off” if he wishes- he is paying quite handsomely for the privilege. But when said ‘Johnny’ is looking for a job in a very competitive, but surprisingly closely-knit, industry he may ultimately question the wisdom of his words. Nor do I take it personally when someone nods off in the middle of a lecture on the difference between publishing royalties and mechanicals. Indeed, for those of us who have endured the teaching profession in a public high school, my current gig would seem like a panacea.

Work not handed in? That’s a zero. No, I don’t mind if you leave early. No, I don’t really mind if you miss class. Again. No, it doesn’t matter why you didn’t hand in your work. You had anthrax? Damn shame. Fallen arches? Your girlfriend’s uterus fell out? That must suck. You got lost because you had to drive a friend to another friend’s house and you lost track of the time and your car wouldn’t start and once you got it going you were hungry so you stopped at McDonalds and there was a huge line at the drive-thru and by the time you got my Happy Meal class was almost over anyways, so you figured….

No probs, man. I have become so very…Zen about it all. Just don’t ask me for a reference next year when you graduate.

One of my preaching teaching topics is how I got to score a TV series a number of years ago. I was given an episode to score. So I did it. Quickly. It was maybe five minutes of music to write. I got it Monday morning, delivered a draft Monday afternoon, spoke with the producers Monday night, fixed and re-delivered by noon on Tuesday. It was approved, and on the air that Friday. I was offered another episode right away. Bada Bing.

Unbeknownst to me, two other guys were given the same episode to score. Apparently after 2 weeks, neither of them had handed anything in. They were probably  “not into it” or were having trouble deciding which snare drum sound to use. Nonetheless, it reinforced something I have always believed: You don’t necessarily have to be fabulously good (though it helps); but you do have to be THERE.

This has become a kind of mantra for me: The most important part of success is showing up. Since so many- perhaps most- don’t, it certainly cuts down on the competition.

The Things I Do For Money

Now that I have posted 2 (TWO) blogs in the same week, regular readers of this space (all 3 of you) will be expecting a plague of frogs and locusts. If that occurs, remember that locusts are a good source of protein. Nom nom nom nom.

I am posting again to show what I did before my Christmas vacation: I got to be Einstein.

I had a music client 30 years ago who called me "Einstein" because He thought I was smart. (If you can fool the people......) Or maybe it was because he thought I made him sound like Lionel Ritchie.

Indeed, impersonating people, things, accents, lamps, etc has been a specialty of mine as long as I can remember. And I have often found myself in trouble because of this specialty. I recall a certain Phys-Ed teacher in high school (whom I dubbed "War Eagle" because of his macho posturing and his uncanny resemblance to a wrestler of the same name). He also had a very particular cadence to his speech pattern. Maybe we musicians are just naturally good at picking up on these things. It stands to reason.

So one day I happened to do my War Eagle impersonation in gym glass (I was about 15) while he was yammering on about something or other while holding a volleyball under his arm. As I turned to my fellow student and uttered (sotto voce, I may add) my witty impersonation, War Eagle launched said volley ball at my head. As my glasses smashed against my face and fell to the floor in pieces, I was reminded of something Steve Martin would say a few years later, "Comedy is not pretty."

Which brings me to last fall, when I was asked to do an Einstein impersonation for the Hebrew University. Naturally I agreed. My acting career has never quite panned out as I expected, so I am open to any job that doesn't involve nudity. And I think Robert DeNiro was busy that week.

Here is the English Version.

The accent was a bit of a challenge- I listened to recordings of man himself, who had a throaty voice and rather quaint lilt to his speech. One has to watch doing these kinds of accents, because a quaint Viennese lilt can turn into a spluttering, rabid Hitler very easily. At least for me. And then, to add to the fun (and this is Canada) I had to do a French version. For that, I became a method actor (not really...I just felt like saying that) and reached back into my 40 years as as Quebecker, used to hearing Europeans speaking French with their native accents. I am not sure I got it quite right, but it's not bad. If I do say so myself.

Here is the French Version.

So there you have it.  It must have been worth it because my wife saw part of it on TV last night. Maybe I should have bought a better mustache.

Look at ALL the Groovy Stuff I've Been Doing!

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One of the commonalities between teaching students and writing resumés is that you are forced to come to terms with all the stuff you have done in your professional life.

I have recently been collecting YouTube videos of corporate work I have done in the past few years as part of my “corporate communications portfolio”. You never know how much stuff you have done until you go looking through it all.

As for teaching, I have a great number of funny- and no-so-funny stories of my about-35 years (35 years?? ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…thump) doing this stuff. I was relaying some of the amusing ones last week: the heroin-addicted director who fired me from scoring his film after hearing (on a dreadful, knackered sound system that reproduced nothing below 200 Hz) the first 8 minutes I had worked on. And how I was re-hired 2 days before the film went to Post because, through the drug-addled brains of those responsible, no one had thought about asking anyone else to do the job.  Or the time I hadn’t been paid for my work after 22 months- I called Blockbuster (they of late, lamented fame) and asked them to remove the movie from their shelves- I had not been paid; they were in violation of copyright for a music score I had not granted rights to. When the Producer heard about my call to Blockbuster, he threatened to kill me and burn my house down. Nice fella.

On a more benign note, years ago I had a client who was (and presumably still is) very, very wealthy. Yet every time he wrote out a cheque for my services, his eyes would well up with tears. It guess it’s tough parting with those whom you love most.

Or, as a producer, the fines I had to repeatedly pay ACTRA for late payment- they demand their money in 13 days while my client (a bank) took 90 days to pay me. You have to love being a bank to a bank!

Speaking of banks, I wrote a signature “branding” tune for a bank to be used every time an employee’s computer boots up or shuts down. (Those of you who take the Toronto GO Train, know which bank I am referring to…) over 10 years later, I am pretty sure it’s still being used. Clearly I did not charge nearly enough for it! But nevertheless…in a previous blog, I mentioned that last summer I was financially sodomized by a bank. (Yes it was that one!) While coughing up most of my retirement savings to keep from being pushed into bankruptcy, I did get a bit of a charge out of knowing that the Chief Sodomizer gets to hear my finger work twice a day for as long as he is in the employ of that bank- even when he leaves the Department  of Financially Sodomizing Non-Delinquent Clients. I wonder if they will give him a cake. Or some cufflinks.

It does take a couple of years to ramp-up business when you re-locate. I have done as much pimping of my wares as I can. One thing that I notice about blogs is how blatantly they are used as marketing tools. I suppose this is no different. I have posted the link to the Lunenburg Waterfront Walk, which I recorded and produced and look to do more this year as they whole town goes Wi-Fi. (yes that was a Marketing/ Pimping Alert. Sorry for the inconvenience). We did it in 3 languages. Speaking or recording in foreign languages...The hardest language I ever had to record for a voice-over was Tamil. I was totally at the mercy of the voice talent who was a delightful woman who helped me shepherd all those phrases into the correct spots (I have visions of people listening to voice-overs rolling on the floor as they hear, "belly bum bum poop..." as translations to a Very Serious Topic. Maybe it's because I am not above doing such a thing myself.)

I will be ramping up “spring singer/songwriter specials” in the studio. It's fabulous alliteration, I know. Stay tuned. I am especially motivated these days. And every time I get in that studio I get all silly and tell my console and every piece of my equipment how much I love them. All of them. And, truthfully, with me and my so-well-loved gear there have been some good things going on here lately.

Premier Darrel Dexter in the studio earlier this month

MORE Upcoming Marketing/ Pimping Alerts:  I had Nova Scotia Premier Darrell Dexter in here recording a podcast for the Bluenose Operahouse Radio Network earlier this month. Any guy who remembers bands like Mashmakan, and know all the names of the members of April Wine is good with me. He really was a delightful fellow. I was wondering if there was any security around the place. My wife, Janine, said there was a suspicious looking guy outside wearing a baseball cap but was sporting an ear piece. I am a little disappointed there were no helicopters flying overhead. But they would have messed up the recording. I guess my security clearance is better than I think.

Bob Ardern is up for Instrumental Album of the Year on the Zone Music Reporter Awards. I co-produced, played on and recorded some of that CD and am very pleased with how well it turned out. I have quite a few CD’s that will be released shortly that have been recorded here and I think the place is getting a reputation for being a great place to create. And I have good gear. And God knows I am charming beyond all measure. Just ask me. I will even play on your CD as part of the package. Just like I did for the bank. Only better.

Seriously, though, I do find great similarity between being a teacher and recording/ producing music. In both situations you are helping someone realize their potential and using your skill, knowledge and tact to come up with something good. And being the age I am (AHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….thump) I realize more and more how valuable that is.

So with all that’s going on this spring (2 films I am scoring- more pimpage to come...) I am hoping I will be “entrenched” here. Not like I am going anywhere…

NEW FRONTIERS

You may have noticed that I changed the look of my website. I am assuming, of course, that you have looked. If you have, you will notice that it is more in keeping the rather folksy look of this blog.

The old one was nice- shiny and clever and very professional-looking. But it was very difficult to update. I had to call the web designer and ask him to make changes. This way I can do it myself. You have been warned.

Speaking of new formats, my new year’s resolution for 2013 (in addition to losing 25 lbs, drinking less wine and not fretting so much) is to push my business as hard and far as I can. There are opportunities out there in film, music production and multi-media.

Given that I do audio for all of that- particularly the multimedia aspect- I am sure I will be successful at it. Besides, as my wife and I agreed last night, I am way too talented to not succeed. Just ask me.

So onward and upward. There is lots of music to record, lots of projects to record and produce and film.

Fallen

I wish I typed faster. If I did, I’d blog way more often. My wife, Janine, is a lightning fast typist (90 words a minute or so) so it’s no wonder she gets so much done. She is up with the dawn, downstairs with coffee every morning blazing away on her computer with her sexy, geeky glasses on.

I take 6 months to write a blog. But my excuse this time is that it’s been pretty busy around here.  The studio is doing very well and I am teaching in Halifax at least a couple of days a week. So between us, Janine and I are working 7 days a week. We try to squeeze in a mutual day off here and there. Sometimes we are successful, sometimes not.

I am in the process of mixing a CD I am producing for Ann Fearon- which will be lovely when we are done. I have also been working on a project for folk singer-songwriter Vince Morash. After working on one of Ann’s songs yesterday, I put up “Fallen”, a tune of Vince’s we just finished recording last Thursday.

Now I know I am a bit of a sentimental fellow, but a lot of these songs, both from Vince and Ann really get to me. “Fallen” is about a fellow Vince once encountered pan handling on a street in Vancouver’s Lower East Side- about as bad an area as we have in this country.

As I worked on the song, I was reminded about a time, in a past life, when I was playing in a community concert band in that same part of the same city- East Hastings Street. It was a Christmas concert, and we were performing for the ‘fallen’ in a shelter. They had to endure at least one selection from the band before being ushered into the dining hall for their free (and likely only) Christmas dinner.

As the doors opened and they ambled inside, I was surprised how many of them were young and middle-aged. The waft of cigarette smoke preceded them, along with their almost palpable resignation and hopelessness.

As I looked at them from my perch in the back row, with my $3500 trombone in hand, I wondered how they had ended up there. Many surely had drug/booze issues. Others were likely crazies off their meds and on the streets.  But so many of them seemed pretty lucid- almost, dare I say, normal. People who hit a bad patch and ended up fallen. A divorce, death of a loved one, bad business decision, laid off by their employer…so many possible ways to end up on the skids.

It occurred to me that so many of us are a couple of missed pay cheques away from taking this kind of a tumble. In these times, in spite of all our government programs to make the world a better place, things seem to be getting crueler every day. I wonder how many of those fallen were ultimately taken down by the very systems put in place to “protect” them: government, banks, insurance companies. How many have been foreclosed upon, lost property, found they were not insured or were driven to bankruptcy through a series of bad luck or bad decisions?

Vince’s song strikes a chord (yuk yuk yuk) with me because my recent circumstances made it abundantly clear how easily any of us could be blindsided. In the last 5 years I have been divorced, relocated (twice) had a business investment go sour, re-married and re-started everything in a new province. And I am still trying to sell my Toronto condo (No reasonable offer will be refused…) But a couple of months ago, without going into unnecessary details, a bank with whom I’d had a 26-year relationship decided to make my life very, very difficult. Six months from now, it might not have been so difficult. The timing, to put it bluntly, sucked. Oh, and it wasn’t about defaulting, because I have never missed a payment or bounced a check in my life. It was a decision made by a faceless functionary who knew nothing about me- just numbers on a screen. He said, “This isn’t working for us. But we value your business.”

No, I am not making that part up.

Let this be a warning to you- particularly small business owners:  even if you don’t default, even if you pay your bills on time you could end up on some bank’s/insurance company’s/government department’s shit list. Then wait for the fun to start.

It was a very expensive and unpleasant to sort it all out. I didn’t really sleep well for about two months. I still don’t. The good news: I think I pulled a rabbit out of my ass this time but, in so doing, I used up all my rabbits. Still, it made me realize how close I was to being pushed into the ranks of the ‘fallen’. You manage, you juggle, you get through. Usually. I look at the less-fortunate in a different way now. I wonder how many were actually managing until they got blown out of the water by something, someone or some institution they trusted.

It’s worth a thought…and a listen to the song that got me thinkin’.

http://soundcloud.com/david-findlay/fallen/s-nzGWB 

"Show me the Money, Jerry"

I have been thinking a lot lately about online social networking.

The old advice used to be, “Network, network, network!” I suppose that is a very sound notion. But lately, I have been torn between the perception of social media and the noise of constantly being marketed to. Or at. And I sometimes wonder who is still listening.

Here’s a story for you…(cue Beverly Hillbillies Theme about a man named Jed..) When I retired from teaching in the mid 90’s I had to move my pension money into what they call a LIRA (which I think is a Locked-In Retirement Account…or something only brilliant financial people understand. Sort of like derivatives, only better) This was a pretty hot time in the online world. Lots of folks were in a constant state of arousal over this new thing “the Internet” and hi-tech companies were popping up everywhere and venture capitalists were falling over themselves to give these companies money. The THING to invest in was hi-tech. You were and IDIOT to NOT invest in this. An idiot, I tell you. Every advisor, between ejaculations, would breathlessly tell you how these stocks were growing 20, 30, 40% OR MORE!! I never liked shaking hands with these people.

Now it occurred to me, a boring little musician, that these companies didn’t really do anything. They didn’t make anything nor did they seem to do much. (“nooooo…it’s virtual! It’s the information superhighway…we’re in the information age…no more manufacturing! Let China do that old-fashioned crap…we process information now! Didn’t you know that, you Luddite?) Yes many companies had potential to, uh, do something but I wasn’t really sure what. Having been brought up by a Scot who lived by the maxim that if you can’t explain what you do in 10 words or less, you probably aren’t doing anything. I was suspicious. But I thought maybe I just didn’t get it.

So, to be clever, I put my retirement money into a LIRA, which was invested in hi-tech companies. These companies had averaged 40% returns in the previous 2 years. All winners.

You know how this ends, don’t you? It was the late 90’s and I had visions of huge gains and retiring well with the power of absurdly fabulous compound interest. When the ass fell out of the high-tech market once The Emperor was indeed found to be naked, my LIRA stood for  “Lose It Right Away”. Nasty.

Which brings me to social media.

I have been re-building my business since moving here last May. I have a terrific group of new music clients. And I still have a number of clients in Toronto for whom I compose music for their TV or corporate productions. I am trying to expand that client base and, like all modern fellas, am using social media to pimp my wares. I have a significant presence and post regularly on Facebook, Twitter and Linkedin- one of which you have used to find this brilliant blog. Even the blog is tied to my website that links back to everything else. I am SO modern and with-it.

But I was thinking that, in all the noise I make whoring myself, how much actual money have I made because someone found me so irresistible online that they HAD to work with me- either give me a gig, a film to score, audio to do or an album to record.

The answer is simple: $0

My clients have all been gained the old fashioned way: personal introductions, referrals from existing clients and/or warm hand-offs. They are all on my social media now, but were clients before they were on my Facebook/Linkedin/Twitter. Bob Ardern, whose CD I just finished producing found me on the Music Nova Scotia website and found that I lived 2 blocks away. So, I suppose you could say he found me online. But it was not through the “usual” channels.

I like the notion that I can expand my network of potential clients by having 10,000 in my Linkedin network. But without a personal connection, or living 2 blocks away, I wonder how much real business value it has. I know it’s good advertising and you have to be visible. And people need to see you through your website. Who trusts a business without a website? But I am of the mind that much of it may be like the colour flyers you get in the mail: noise you take little notice of in the constant din of being advertised at.

Perhaps I am wrong and maybe one the film producers on my Twitter or Linkedin here will be directed to this blog and say, “Call that guy Findlay right now and have him score that show!”  You might even think this whole blog entry is but a clever attempt at marketing myself. You might.

Maybe. Wouldn’t that be nice if my clever marketing idea bore fruit? We will see.

Why on EARTH Did I Make a Movie?

Danielle Dubois, Stephen Spielberg, Melantha Blackthorne

I must have been on drugs.

It was at a time when I was curious about the process of producing a film. And I had a little extra money. But my good friend Kevin Woodhouse had a script for a Martial Arts flick. Entitled, “The Order of One”, it would be very much grind house- style (unfortunately a few years before Tarantino made that cool again), low budget…just lots of action with very little plot and some breasts for good measure (breasts…measure…get it? Never mind) It’s about a sacred sword that gives whoever holds it great, unbeatable, super-natural power. Everyone wants it- various criminal factions and a nasty crime lord. Stephen Harper would have wanted it too if only he’d known. I think he was unavailable for the days we were shooting. I am pretty sure. But basically, the film was aimed at 19 year olds who are completely baked in their basements (ok, their mothers’ basements) wanting a laugh between pizza deliveries on a Friday night. Oh, and to see people getting the crap kicked out of them in all sorts of exciting ways. And breasts. Did I mention breasts?

We had a good critical mass of people to work on it. Jason Cavalier, an actor and Montreal-based martial artist and stunt man was keen to direct the action and play the lead role of Sonny, an escaped convict. I was studying Martial Arts in Oakville, Ontario, and had the honour of working with the amazing Grand Master Hung Chul Kim- a 9^th degree Tae Kwon Do Black Belt (I think you can only be awarded 10^th degree posthumously…) and Master Harrison Chan, a stunningly superb martial artist (and 5^th degree Master) who had just finished a 6-week training camp in Korea. He was very buff- and dazzling in his skill. Truly, it’s hard to miss when you do fight sequences with people of this caliber. They were quite happy to be the “bad guys”, and speak in Korean to each other. No martial-arts film would be complete without subtitles. Jason was quite delighted to have these experts to choreograph. Everyone (myself included) had at least a black belt in some kind of Martial Art. I, of course did the suitably-retro soundtrack, which I hope to have out soon. I also did a guest appearance as a drug-addled, perverted, strip-club owner. Frankly, it wasn’t much of a leap for me- although I am always worried about becoming type-cast.

It was tongue in cheek, 70’s retro silly. I bought 2 old clunker cars, goofy fancy-coloured clothing and several thousand dollars worth of fake gunshot hits. When you have no real money to make a movie, you can’t afford to take yourself seriously. Lots of fights, car chases, falling off buildings (nice to have a professional stuntman as your lead actor/action director), fake blood and a cast who were really great sports about it all. Wonderful people, all. Everyone understood what we were making and that it was, in essence, an homage to Sonny Chiba and his tacky 1970’s exploitation flicks- right down to the metal strips in Jason’s armbands. And for good measure, Jason (who edited it along with his scream-queen partner, the bodacious Melantha Blackthorne) added cartoon bubbles over the more memorable executions, such as “skull destruction fist”, or “eyeball destruction”. Kind of like when Batman hit a bad guy and “POW” would come up on the screen. No, “Gone With the Wind” it ain’t. But it’s a lot more fun. And to top it off, part of the fun of doing it was that the production itself something of a family affair- Kevin's wife, Danielle Dubois (pictured above) was a gun-totin' Siren as well as an occasional sound-person, full time makeup, effects and wardrobe person (blame those outfits on her) and craft girl among a zillion other jobs. I have nothing but good things to say about her muffins. Melantha, who filmed most of it,  is Jason's real-life partner. Very incestuous. OK, not really. But sort of.

I travelled extensively to try and sell the thing. I discovered that there are plenty of folks who will take your movie into their stable of films, give you nothing for it and promise you that you won’t make a dime from it.  It’s amazing how many people will actually  still “sell” their film to outfits like this.  And to be fair, the usual distributors of even low-end fare really didn’t know what to make of something like “Order of One”. The ubiquitous presence of Youtube was still a ways off and its populist, folksy mindset had yet to take hold.  Indeed, it was hard to imagine the crazy shit that some people really like to watch-  as we now know thanks to the aforementioned Youtube. Indeed, I thought our crazy shit was no crazier- and a lot more entertaining – than most. We even had a coveted midnight showing at the 2006 Fantasia Film Festival and a number of excellent reviews.  But sadly, our little film fell into the cracks.

Alas, as in every story there is a hero. Julian Grant, a good friend and film maker with more artistic integrity than just about anyone else I have known, called me up and said he had found someone who might put out “Order of One”.  His name was (and still is) Warren Croyle, of Chemical Burn Entertainment, and specializes in selling these kinds of flicks. WARNING OF PIMPAGE!!!! BUY IT HERE: (http://www.chemicalburn.org/comedies_and_docs.html)

So this fall, “Order of One: Kung-Fu Killing Spree” hit the streets. (Yes…marketing required an adjustment to the title) The reviews were generally excellent- particularly by those who “get” this type of film:

I honestly can’t recommend this flick enough. I know I have a reputation for intentionally watching/ loving bad films, but that’s not the case at all with ORDER OF ONE. I legitimately loved the shit out of it. It’s the perfect amount of batshit crazy and over-the-top action.

(That’s from http://dailygrindhouse.com/reviews/order-of-one-2006/)

If you are expecting a multi-million dollar extravaganza, you will be disappointed. One reviewer (and seriously, only one) was scathing in his critique:

This film is nothing more than idiotic, mindless, silly, brain dead exploitation. The direction is shoddy, the script is pathetic, and the production value is non-existent.

We’ll try and be more inclusive and culturally sensitive next time. At least he did say this:

If I have to say something positive about the movie I think I would commend the fair amount of people in the film who obviously had some sort of martial arts experience, as they seemed to know what they were doing

“..some sort of martial arts experience…” You are too kind.  And you, dear reviewer, obviously have an exceptionally small penis.

Anyway, judge for yourself if you wish. (About the film, not that guy’s penis…) This is, indeed, a shameless plug for “Order of One- Kung Fu Killing Spree” and do keep in mind that I still have a kid in college, OK?

12 Times the Charm

This is the 12^th version of my studio.

As I put this place together, I realized that I have connected and disconnected this mess 12 times in 12 different locations including 4 Canadian provinces.

It was longer getting this one going because a) I was too poor to renovate the outbuilding; , b) I had it sort of going in my basement- enough to score a TV show anyway- which I managed to do,  and C) It was summer and we had just moved and I had a lot of wallpaper to hang.

I realized a few things in doing this. The first is that this is the best studio space I have had. And I don’t pay rent because I own the building. That is good. After the financial sodomizing I took in Toronto, it’s sure nice to reduce your overhead- even if you have to spend a few thousand bucks to do it.

The other thing that I realized is that I am now officially fed up plugging all this shit in. I no longer gleefully squeeze behind boxes of equipment and plug in 3 Pro Tools interfaces while lying on my back. 5 minutes of sitting like a pretzel sent jolts of agony through my hips. I needed serious drink to alleviate the pain induced by crawling, slithering, reaching, bending, twisting, lifting and separating.  This was no joy; it was Nazi Yoga. And I, for one, am done with it.

That said, it really is a lovely and flexible space. Indeed, my neighbour and contractor, the lovely and talented Alan Burns, was meticulous in his construction. This part of Nova Scotia has a number of excellent craftsmen- many of whom come from a long tradition of boat builders. They make everything to standards that  can withstand the gales of the Atlantic. And as a bonus, my Kawai grand piano- which has followed me since I was 14 (it’s a good thing it can’t talk because it has seen more of me in the last 38 years that I care to think about) It looks very pretty in there and is a good addition. Digital is nice, but a real instrument like that is a huge asset. 

Now I begin the process of whoring and pimping myself, my facility and my services. I am currently in the middle of my first recording project (with guitarist Bob Ardern) and I am sure I will get a chance to find out which cables I plugged in wrong. Out of the 10 million, there has to be one bad one. One. Two, tops. It’s a good thing Bob is patient.

As well I have named the place “Otitis Media”. It sounds very shi-shi but you medical types will know it’s the official name for an ear infection…you know the one that keeps your kids up all night screaming? Yeah. Well maybe I can do that for you too. At a very reasonable price.

I Got a Move-On

It’s been a while since my last entry. But it’s because I have been very busy moving yet again.

My studio space in Toronto on Charles Street was being turned into condos. Yes, just what Toronto needs: more condos. I actually had fairly cheap space at $17/sq.ft. When I looked around town I realized I was going to get nothing anywhere near that. And, of course, there is the set-up cost. I always figure that would cost at least $10,000- depending on where it is and I’d again be wondering when the building was going to be razed for condos- or when the landlord was going to raise the rent. I am a little sick of being at someone else’s mercy. Besides, I had always had my studio in or near my house and had kept my overhead to a minimum. That is until I moved to Toronto, the land of financial sodomy.

Not that Toronto is a bad place, it’s just that it’s incredibly expensive to live and work there. And if sodomy is your thing, good on you! But I do suspect that the financial kind is nowhere near as fun as the other variety. Not that I would know. Really. But in Toronto no one seems to think twice about raising rents, or condo fees or issuing fabulous new charges, surcharges, levies and, of course, taxes. Everyone just pays them! Oh, maybe they grumble a bit. But ultimately, they pop a Prozac (or a Paxil, Zoloft or Welbutrin) and pay what is asked. Because we are so fucking blessed to live here, I tell you…. (insert anti-depressant-induced beatific smile here……)

On top of it all, the recession has kicked a big hole in business. And it really hasn’t returned to its former state. That which has come back has been more sporadic and closer to the bone. Everyone wants everything cheaper. It’s tough to manage huge increases in costs when business is less than certain and with margins that are barely above cost, if at all. It has become, for many of us, a race to the bottom.

My condo, bless its heart, raised maintenance fees 51% over the 3 years I lived there. They are now so high I don’t think I can sell the place at all. Ever. Who knew you could lose all your money on a fully renovated, beautiful piece of real estate 2 blocks from the St. Lawrence Market! I keep hearing about the “hot” real estate market. You know, the one our politicians keep saying they need to tax more to keep it from overheating?  No, me neither. Five months on the market, lots of traffic and not 1 offer. Not even a skunk offer. Nothing. Of course the standard comment was: “Awesome condo! Too bad the fees are so high…” (Just for those of you who are wondering…they went up to nearly $1,200/month as of August 1, 2011. That is the just the maintenance fees- nearly $1/sq.ft) Even Torontonians, whose rectums are accustomed the repeated collective poundings issued by David Miller, Rob Ford, Dalton McGuinty (and a host of others) find that too much to take.

So I rented it out and it will be, as our politicians like to lie to us, ‘revenue neutral’. But it really will be. Or close anyway.

In May, we loaded up the truck and moved to Beverleeee….(insert banjo music) Actually, we moved to Nova Scotia.  (Insert MORE banjo music….) It is beautiful, cheap (for housing) has a great and vibrant music scene, an active film production scene and some of the nicest people you will ever meet. And it’s only a 2- hour plane ride from the Center of the Universe. Here I will teach a little, play a little, record a little and compose a lot. I am delighted at how approachable production and musical people are here.

It’s been a long time settling, but the new studio is almost ready to be pimped. I am very excited.  In the meantime, I managed to do some voice over work and score a show here in my new house- a few blocks from the harbour- with my gear temporarily stacked up and half-connected in the basement. But all this will move this weekend into the new digs: a fabulous double garage that I have converted. 

 (the last few days of the "basement" collection!)

Stay tuned and I will thrill you with more tales. As Stephen King says, “There are always more tales…”

Almost Famous, Part deux

Sorry to leave you hanging after the last episode. I am sure you were just dying to know what else went on....OK, maybe not so much. But I am back now.

Shortly after the Scottish part of the journey I headed to London. In 1983, the UK was not in a particularly good economic state. Come to think of it, I am trying to remember a time when it wasn't in a bad way...

Upon arriving in London, I went immediately to Abbey Road. This was not the first time I had been there.

I made an attempt a couple of years earlier- 1981, during my graduation trip to Europe. That attempt  was foiled  by a security guard who was wearing a uniform that said "EMI Security" across the lapel. Very impressive. I asked to see the studio, being a young engineer from Canada and all that.

"Nooo. Sorrry. All we get 'ere is people cryin' for 'Beeet-les, blouuudy Beet-les.'  Cawn't let you in. Not without an appointment. Sorry. Good offternoon." I tried my various charm methods.  And, damnit, I  was well-versed in charm; I had just crossed the English channel in the company of a delightful Swedish lady named Ingela. Or Angela. At that point names we not terribly important. I think that's whather name was. Ingela. Very blonde. And Swedish. I just lost my train of thought.

I'm back. Yes you'd think that after being up all night, traveling from France and honing my bullshit skills I'd be at the top of my game. But no. I met my match in a craggy Cockney fellow from EMI Security. It was clear that any more attempts at chatting him him would result in a physical removal: Mine.

Fast forward two years. I walk into Abbey Road as many famous people do. As if I belonged. The smell of the place (mostly old wood), the vibe... thinking John, Paul, George and Ringo had walked these steps many times and.

"Excuse me!...Excuse me! Do you have business here?"

I was so busted.

Undeterred, the next day I went to RAK to see Big Country again. I may have been a a tad skittish given my near brush with Death at Abbey Road just as I was nearing a state of bliss. With crossed fingers I told the girl at reception I was here to see Big Country. No problem. So in I went. It was like old home week. Each of them referred to me in turn as "The c**t from Canada". I was introduced to Steve Lillywhite- whose work I had admired not only with Big Country, but also with Peter Gabriel and Joan Armatrading...A very talented fellow. I was expecting some distinguished gentleman in his 40's, but he turned out to not be much older than I was (he was in fact 4 years older than I, and likely still is).

After much camaraderie and hanging out I announced that I was looking for work in London and where did he think I should go. I was expecting hilarity all around- but no. Lillywhite gave me his number and told me to call him because there maybe something available at the Townhouse. Excellent!

By now I was thinking I was on the road to becoming well-connected.The next day I called as instructed. I was living in a rather gloomy hotel in Earl's Court (yes, those of you who know London are thinking "Ewwwwww"...but it probably was not as bad back then) that had a phone box. The hotel had, unfortunately been missed by the Nazis during the Blitz. Pity. But there was a rather cute girl from Newcastle working there. I toyed with the idea of asking her out, but her accent was so thick I woudn't been sure if she'd said yes or not. It would have been quite the date:

"What would like for dinner?"
 "Foodgy poodgy meself a-poodly piddly"
" Ummm...I'll have what she's having"

I digressed again. Dammit. I hate when I do that.

So I set out to make the big call- to Steve Lillywhite, NOT the hotel girl from Newcastle. We're done with that. British phone boxes of the era required you to push coins in when you heard 'the pips' (no relation to Gladys Knight, sadly). While the pips were pipping the phone call was interrupted until the machine finished counting the money. I only had 10p and 5p coins- which didn't last long. You got maybe 15 seconds of talk time before the thing started pipping and wanted more.

So my job inquiry/interview with Steve Lillywhite went like this:

"Hi Steve it's Dave Findlay. How are you?
"Hi Dave I'm very well, thank you...I.."  PIP PIP PIP PIP PIP PIP...ka-chunk...
silence
"Hello?"
"Yes, Steve I'm calling from a phone box in my hotel. Sorry..."
"No worries, You can call the" PIP PIP PIP PIP PIP PIP PIP...ka-chunk...
silence
"Hello?"
"Hello?"
"Yes, sorry....should I go to the Townhouse?"
"Yes, do that and make sure you ask for.." PIP PIP PIP PIP PIP PIP PIP...ka-chunk..

I didn't get the job.

I did get some larger coins though. And armed with about 20 quid in coins I called AIR Studios. I told them I was an engineer from Canada (I may have slipped in the Big Country thing and perhaps suggested Steve Lillywhite was a close personal friend of mine. I might have.) and wanted to see the studios. I was told to come in the next morning at 10. Bonus!

At the time they were in Oxford Circus, right above the tube station where about 50 lines of the London Underground intersected.

I was invited in as scheduled and treated very well, I must say. I was told to wait in the reception area- which I did gladly. I noticed that on that particular day, on the "board" they had:  in Studio 1, Madness; Studio 2 ("MPL COMMUNICATIONS" which I knew was McCartney Productions Limited); Studio 3, Dire Straits; Studio 4, The Pretenders. Not a bad lineup. I was told I'd see everything except Studio 2 ("McCartney's in there and he's funny about these things...")

As I waited, desperately pretending to look nonchalant, I heard a deep voice with an upper-class English accent. I looked up and saw a tall man with long gray-white hair chatting with the studio manager. It was George Martin. Himself. In the flesh. Had this been a Six Feet Under episode you'd have seen me run up to him and say "Please let me work for you I'll clean ashtrays I'll do your copying I'll extract parts for you I'll tune your piano I'll wash your car just let me work here for you please please PLEEEASE".

But I didn't. He looked at me. I looked at him. We both smiled politely and I managed to say, "Good morning".  To which he replied, "Yes, good morning!" That was that.

Well not quite. While I was there there was a stream of very young men looking rather awkward coming and going. I asked the studio manager and was told that they were looking to hire an assistant. feeling this was my chance to make my 'elevator speech', I did. And very well too, I might add.

However I was told that I was over-qualified, and a little old- I was 24. Still too young for prostate trouble. But they were looking for kids to live at home and be bottom dwellers to work their way up. Which I was willing to do. Ask the girl from Newcastle. or Ingela...er Angela.  Oh god was I willing! The pay was 25 Pounds a week (even in those days that was nothing) but I was going to call my dad and say "Daaaaaad! I need some supporting!!!!". However, the kicker was that, even though I had a work visa for the UK,,"we have 15% unemployment in this country...and we probably shouldn't hire a Canadian But DO let us know how you make out."

She could ask Ingela. Or Angela. Whatever her name is. She's probably back in Sweden feeding her yak, remembering me fondly.

Almost Famous, Part 1

I was thinking about adventures in music. I'm not sure why, but it might have something to do with the fact that I am close to finishing a recording project (Truth Panel) that's been going on for some time now. And it's going to be rather good. If I say so myself.

I finished the classwork for my M.Mus (Tonmeister program) at McGill. Once you're close to done in any degree program the inevitable question is "Now what?" I finished in 1983 and my dream of being the next George Martin burned bright. Note...George Martin, now Sir George Martin is probably the most celebrated, successful and best-known record producer of all time. I probably don't have to tell you that, but just in case. You know. You're welcome)

So, I sent an armful of resumes to Britain- convinced that being Canadian and well-educated would open doors in just about any studio I went in. Yes sireee, I would walk in and they'd say, "Aren't YOU the next George Martin? We've been waiting for you. We are not worthy. Grovel, grovel, cringe....

Not so much.

I did send letters to various London studios. This was before email, don't you know. Abbey Road (my 1st choice): 1 year later I got a letter saying "Vacancies rarely occur here...." I am sure they have had one or two since then given that it was 28 years ago. AIR Studios (no response), Olympic Studios (no response). The Townhouse (no response). Lansdowne Studios, Advision Studios and everywhere else I could think of where my favourite records were recorded.

One place I sent a letter to was a studio in Scotland called Castlesound- I knew of its existence because of a trade magazine ad showing their Amek console. So I sent a letter there too. Sure enough, I got a charming reply (of course, they're Scottish!) saying that they were considering building a 2nd studio on the premises and I was welcome to stop by and visit should I ever come to Scotland.

So I got on a plane. I am not kidding. This was 1983- and I was 24 years old. I have never been one to shy away from an adventure. Not then and not now. Besides, my aunt and uncle lived not too far from the place and so free lodgings were assured. And my aunt is a terrific cook. ..

The engineer/owner, Calum Malcolm, who is unquestionably one of the most brilliant engineers I have ever encountered, played masters of his new project, The Blue Nile's A Walk Across the Rooftops. I had to admit that it was as good as anything I had ever heard. I realized it might take me a while to become George Martin after all. So after a few days of chatting and listening to mixes, and hanging out at the studio- and the pub- and making lots of tea, the inevitable happened.

"I've got Big Country coming in next week. Would you like a job for a week or so? I need a lackey"

I sighed and decided right there and then that the pedicure and facial would just have to wait.
 
A Scottish band, who were #8 on Billboard, the cover of Rolling Stone and a few months away from playing on the Grammy's was nothing to be sneezed at. Calum was also dazzling as he was intent on sending them back to London with a very positive impression of what could be recorded in Scotland.  And I was a pretty good lackey too. Mostly I kept quiet and watched intently. I got to make a tape loop (hey this was 1983 you know...) and do playbacks for the band while Calum went to the bog. It was nice to rub shoulders with a band who had clearly "made it" but in true Celtic fashion, they were very realistic and humble about it too. And I got some fabulous new expressions to use too.  One of them came into the control room after a take and said, "Right, Dave....Gee' it to us louder than FUCK!" I never learned how loud FUCK was at McGill. But I sure found out. It was loud; marvelously loud. Deliciously loud.

It must have gone well, because after the time there the band invited me to come down to London to see them record down at RAK Studios with Steve Lillywhite. I am sure they invite every studio tea boy, but who was I to quibble? Besides, I had applied for a job at RAK- and it's just down the street from Abbey Road.

The adventure continued. And so will I. Don't you hate the teaser?