Another rehearsal is under our belts, and damn it feels good to be sounding like a cohesive group of musicians instead of like a bad garage band. The terms "mando-funk" and mando-ska" and "mando-metal" were jokingly thrown around, but don't fret - we're still fairly uncategorizable. Certainly none of the above, anyways. If we had our fiddle player, I suppose we would be some sort of roots rock with a twist. A twist of sexy.
But it wasn't all great, seeing as how my banjo pickup crapped out completely during the session. This blows, because I dropped $300 on it not long ago. Now I have to go to the former Songbird music (which is called Alien Head or Song Head or Big Brain or something head or alien related I can't remember) to try and get them to patch it up before the show. Bad scene. That's what I get for buying a pickup that required soldering. I would probably solder my capo to my leg and be none the wiser.
Tomorrow, my Better Half's relatives from India are coming to visit, so I have a lot of last minute cleaning to do. I realized recently that I have given up on my bedroom, to the point where I will drop things on the ground almost out of spite. I think that's a good indication that I have too much stuff in there. It's overwhelming to the point of being uncleanable. I need to purge. After the CD release I will be treating myself to another organizational book. You know. To create more clutter on my bookcase.
And, here's the shocker, I also need to sleep. I am dozing off at the keyboard again, and all you get at that point is the zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz key while I drool, passed out on the z key, and eventually die of electrocution. What a way to go.
Edit: It's called Spaceman Sound. Fuck. Where did I get Alien Head? Actually, where did I get Big Brain?