This blog page removes what others may consider certain expected blog features, but removing those extraneous bits makes the blog more conducive to reading through from start to end, like a book. It is stripped down to the essentials. The DNA Vibrator may provide links to other sites or information it references ONLY if it suits the purpose of The DNA Vibrator.
Permanent Historical Record: 6/1/07
How To Become Desperate In One Easy Step...
Create a MySpace page. "Pimp" it out. There is a whole industry dedicated to doing nothing except "pimping out" MySpace pages. [Sorry, DNA just vomited in its mouth a little bit there. Do you hear this? A whole industry making money creating html code designed to make MySpace pages and avatars appear as if they are actually cool.] Take suggestive pictures of yourself, making sure that they do not violate the MySpace user agreement, but seem to. Appear, cute, casual, disinterested, sexy, bored, AND be the party animal. It's like MySpace has given people the freedom to become the people they would have envied and hated had they met in real life.
DNA knows that many MySpace pages (and people) actually are cool. And as far as getting a chance to hear and see bands you might not otherwise, it rocks, and as far as attempting to create a personal virtual chatroom that people who are friends or who actually become friends through MySpace, Myspace has really pioneered a great idea. But it seems for every fun page, there is a pandering page, a soft core porn page, a page run by a child molester, a page for superfreaks and the superfreaks who shove knitting needles up their asses....so browsing MySpace feels less like a place to meet friends, and more like an alley where you might see a hooker giving a cop a blowjob.
In other words, DNA backed its trailer right up to the electric pole, plugged in and felt right at home. Since many readers here might already be on MySpace, please, DNA invites all of you to join DNA's circle of friends. Right now, DNA does not have a circle of friends. It has no friends. It is desperate. Some people on MySpace have hundreds and hundreds of friends. What is wrong with DNA? See? One easy step.
As always, your friendship on MySpace, is welcome.
Permanent Historical Record: 6/3/07
THREE WEEKS UNTIL THE HANGAR 9 SHOW!!!
DNA should start to practice.
You hear that, HOG and MR. Kamikaze? Three weeks until the show. We are on target to suck balls. DNA is very excited. See you all very soon.
Permanent Historical Record: 6/5/07
Two For The Show
Here are two flyers for the upcoming show. Hope you like them. If so, print them out, and place them all over the world for DNA. Thanks!
As always, your comments are welcome.
Permanent Historical Record: 6/6/07
Three To Get Ready
Here are three more flyers for the upcoming show:
As always, your photoshop skills are welcome.
Permanent Historical Record: 6/8/07
My son contributes to the cause...
DNA couldn't pass up this picture for a flyer:
As always, your little punks are welcome.
Permanent Historical Record: 6/9/07
Ch Ch Ch Ch Ch changes...
The front page has went through some changes today. Check out some of the new links. DNA had to write its first royalty checks today, to MPL music and BUG music, for two covers that DNA recorded. Paying a royalty for the use of a song you covered actually feels good. Flattering, really, when you think that there are hundreds of versions of "Ghost Riders in the Sky" out there, but people are buying DNA's.
As always, your David Bowie references are welcome.
Permanent Historical Record: 6/12/07
What Will Our Intrepid Heroes Do?
With little more than two weeks to go before the show that would change the universe, H.O.G. becomes lost somewhere in Florida, having to fight through hordes of costumed freaks with his martial arts skills. What if he breaks the bones in his hand fending off a crazed Disney employee in a Goofy suit?
Mr. Kamikaze fears the reaper, even though DNA tells him not to. DNA made the drum parts to all the new songs especially easy just for Mr. Kamikaze. But, Mr. Kamikaze doesn't want to hear this. He only sees the destruction that will result if he fails...good luck, Mr. Kamikaze. We are all counting on you. Get it? Counting? You see, he's a drummer, and uh, he counts, and so that was like, a joke?
DNA hurts his arm in a lawn dart accident, and loses feeling in two of the fingers of his left hand. He has muscle spasms in his shoulder. One of the bands on the bill, Triple Whip, can't make the show because a sweatshop owner who keeps the band in indentured servitude is requiring them to play a birthday party for his 5 year old niece---FOR THREE DAYS STRAIGHT!!! The Hangar show is ready to fly apart at the seams---What Will Our Intrepid Heroes Do Now?
DNA is waiting for God to give him a sign, any kind of sign, about whether or not he should be worried.
Never fear, gentle readers, out of adversity is born greatness, at least one percent of the time. A one in one hundred shot of not sucking. Some may consider those long odds, but not DNA. Hell, you have as great a chance of getting pregnant while on the pill. DNA bets that just made some of you shit eggrolls. Now our chances of shaking the pillars of heaven don't sound so bad, do they? And if you personally knew, I mean, really knew, how fucking awesome H.O.G. is on guitar, and how fucking rock and roll Mr. Kamikaze is on drums, then, like DNA, you would have been lip syncing your own songs and playing air guitar over your own bass lines for the last three months solid, too. Suck? Not even close. So mind-blowing that you will want to change religion to whatever DNA believes? Now you're in the ballpark, baby.
As always, your overly-inflated hype about the show is welcome.
Permanent Historical Record: 6/16/07
Just 7 Days...
Years ago, DNA wrote a song called God Created Evolution. In the background, one of the vocals goes like this: In just 7 days, if you give a damn, just 7 days, if you give a damn. Another vocal goes like this: There might be a deeper meaning behind 7 days. In this case, there is not. There are just 7 days left before the show, and DNA couldn't be more excited.
A couple of days ago, a reporter from the local entertainment paper called DNA for a story about the show. DNA's wife, who listened to this end of the conversation, later said that DNA was cheesy on the phone, and probably the biggest dork she had ever heard. DNA has said before, there is nothing like music to make you feel like a kid.
It just so happens that the interviewer was the son of a good friend of DNA from many years ago, unbeknownst to the interviewer. Even though his dad and DNA never played together, they often talked about doing DEVO's song, Smart Patrol, Mr. DNA. Yes, the very same song from which Mr. Kamikaze found his name. DNA told the interviewer this fact during the interview. The interviewer said that that DEVO album was in his CD player right then. Last week DNA asked for a sign from God about the show. DNA couldn't have asked for a more positive one than that.
As always, stories of your greater than chance encounters are welcome.
Permanent Historical Record: 6/20/07
And The Moonbuggy Kids Make Three...
Tonight, after a few long days of waiting to hear back from some very talented local musicians, The Moonbuggy Kids gave DNA a call as he was checking his email. They were able to step in and do the show. DNA thanks them from the infinity of its existence.
DNA is looking forward to meeting them, but also is a bit amused at the fact that probably everybody in the DNA Vibrators is old enough to be the fathers of everybody in the Moonbuggy Kids. It is the natural progression of things.
In music, unlike in almost every other profession, it is always the young who teach the old, the young who reinvent, the young who establish the paradigm. The old fade away. A few become venerated, but most are simply happy to play a guitar every now and then. DNA feels like it has at least one more motherfucking, make you sit up and take notice, shake your head and say, "What the fuck was that!" left in it. DNA hopes we make the young guys proud that the old guys can still do it.
Like Beowulf,who knew that the only path to immortality was to tempt Fate, the Wyrd of the World, DNA invites you once again to witness the glory, or the carnage, that the 23rd of June will bring to the Hangar 9 in Carbondale.
As always, your pretentious allusions to Old English literature are welcome.
Permanent Historical Record: 6/27/07
And On The Third Day, He Arose...
Saturday was the show. It's now late Tuesday/early Wednesday. DNA finally feels like a normal person. Still, DNA hasn't slept more than four hours per night since Friday. Too many things to do. About the show: DNA is still digesting it. Some parts he already threw back up, like the Canadian Mist some schmoe offered him at an after hours party, but some parts he is still savoring. So, sorry, but this post will be short. Rest assured, DNA is hard at work dumping down audio tracks from the show, looking at video, and (gasp) planning another possible show. Who'd a thunk it, that the kids still dig some DNA? Sometime very soon, expect a flood of new stuff on the website.
DNA takes this time to thank the Moon buggy Kids, and Nonagon, for they know what it means to rock out with your cock out. DNA kind of wishes that they didn't know that, but you can't have everything. As Steven Wright once said, "Where would you put it?"
If you were there, or if you were in one of the bands, write to DNA with your favorite story/memory about the show.
Permanent Historical Record: 6/29/07
The Practice, or, The Shape Of Things To Come...
June 22nd, Friday:
Starting that afternoon, DNA loaded his equipment up, from home and from his office. Packing and loading equipment is a ritual, that DNA has practiced since it first became a musician, many years ago. The ritual is much like the ritual a skydiver will go through to pack his own parachute, or a soldier will go through to clean her own weapon. DNA invests that much energy into the process. Like those others, DNA visualizes how he will use the Big Muff Pie distortion (yes, an original, with germanium capacitors, that bleeds signal like a wino�s gums bleeds, well, blood) as he carefully packs it in his milk crate. He carefully winds his cords, unscrewing the ends to check the solder joints, and then wraps them with neon green duct tape. He changes out the batteries on his stage tuners, his pedals, and a signal splitter. He packs his tool box, and all of the other musical necessities away (guitar slide, picks, extra strings, etc.).
Then DNA checks his guitars. DNA has been kind of bitch about having a guitar stand and strap for each guitar. They are not that expensive, and mean you have to do a whole lot less fucking around on stage if you have to change guitars. DNA checks the batteries on each of the basses, checks the strings on all the guitars, and packs away the guitars in their respective cases. DNA closes the flight case for the pre amp and amp, and then loads up the stuff.
DNA built his own basses for several years. Along with that, DNA built his own speaker enclosures, too. At the time, the only money he spent was on musical equipment, and so DNA bought the best: An EVM 18" and 4 EVM 10"s. DNA built two 2 x10 cabinets and 1 18 cabinet. This was the rig DNA used at the height of playing out, when sometimes the clubs he would play were huge, and needed more bass, or was so small, the PA had no subs and really couldn't deliver bass. Either way, DNA was ready to deliver.
The 2 x 10 cabinets were eventually chucked in favor of a custom built 4 x10 enclosure which DNA still has. DNA has had the same speakers for 17 years. They will probably last another 17. Seriously, EV doesn't make the "M" series anymore, because they were too expensive and frankly overpowered for everything except the biggest applications. A rough measure of a speaker is the mass of the magnet. Each of those EVM 10's weighed approximately 40 pounds. Fuck is right.
The 18 cab, well it has had a history. DNA traded it to Mr. Kamikaze for a drum set. At that time, Mr. Kamikaze was learning to play bass in a band called Taylor. He was pretty good. I have yet to actually unpack the drums I got. 13 years have passed since then. Well, Mr. Kamikaze still has the 18 cab, and the bass player in his other band, Nonagon, uses it. Mr. Kamikaze promised to bring the cabinet with him, to reunite the 4 x 10's with the 18 cab. (Mr. Kamikaze indeed did bring it. The day after the show, DNA received a very nice email from an old friend, who said whatever I had up there sounded "tits.") DNA likes tits.
DNA met the Hand of God at the practice space, which thankfully, was air-conditioned and sound-proofed. Besides DNA's own monstrous bass rig, H.O.G. had a 200 watt all tube ampeg head and a Marshall 4 x 12. The problem with such a stadium filling rig is that it doesn't really start to kick ass until it's turned half way up, and we wouldn't be able to turn it up past 1, other wise it would simply be too loud.
About the time we had finished loading equipment into the practice space, DNA got a call from Mr. Kamikaze asking for directions. He and long time pal The Song Engine came down from Chi-town. On the way in, the guys bought some liquid refreshment, and by 6 pm we were set up and ready to practice.
For some vocals, DNA brought his Mesa Boogie combo in. This is the same Mesa Boogie that the song Engine used to own. It's the same model that Neil Young played through for many years (maybe still does). Mine still works awfully well.
Do we have high expectations? Well, yes. To quote somebody famous, "I know, it's only rock and roll, but I like it." We are competent musicians, and H.O.G., well, he's from another planet, a planet where the best musicians on earth go to shine the shoes of the lowest of the low there in hopes of hearing an alien play even a single note on a dimestore kazoo while they are bored at the shoe shine stand. And these aliens are the dregs, the loser aliens who by alien standards can't even play a kazoo. H.O.G. is good THERE. He just happens to be HERE. DNA lives eats and breathes this shit, and Mr. Kamikaze is truly the shit on drums, so it was surprised when practice quickly started to sound like a blind man beating a bag of cats: badly punctuated screeches, lots of fits and starts, and a lot of extra motion to get the simplest shit done. DNA began to lose a little confidence after two hours and several beers did not improve the situation.
Let's get one thing straight: Nobody was mad or anything. Fuck, it would be kind of funny in a karmic way if after all the hype and crap about the show, if we old guys totally sucked and couldn't make it come together. In old-style mythology, the hero generally dies at the end in a great flourish. Our flourishes have already come and gone. In the new American mythology, the hero keeps coming back again and again for the sequel. People don't stay dead. However, in real life, when people try to emulate that crap, eventually they get too old to live up to the hype, and they fail, either publicly or privately, but only then do they learn the lesson that there comes a point after which you give up the games of youth to the young. Was this our moment? It seemed like it.
After 10 pm, we seriously started axing songs that sucked. Some were simple, some were the good ones, the ones that were musically challenging. What we were left with was a core of somewhat shaky songs, DNA with a somewhat shaky voice (after singing for several hours), and also having his left arm hurting (after an accident from a couple of weeks back left a couple of his fingers numb---like carpal tunnel numb, nothing too serious). The guitar sounded lame, cuz we couldn't get a good tone out of the underdriven ampeg.
After 11, we all agreed that no further damage could be done. We discussed renting a Marshall head for H.O.G., and the boys decided to grab some food. DNA had to drive an hour home, say goodnight to the wife, see what the boy was doing etc., so instead of food, he went home. Reuniting with the guys was great. The playing was a little underwhelming, but at the very end of the night, we all realized, that for Mr. Kamikaze, this was actually the first time he practiced this stuff on his actual drums, and not just while listening to it in the car, and for one song, DNA knows this is hard to believe, but for Folsom Prison Blues, Mr. Kamikaze had never ever heard it before, not even the original. H.O.G. played one of DNA's guitars because his own had corroded and rusted so badly from disuse that we couldn't string it. Meaning that H.O.G. had not picked up an electric guitar, except for those times over the last couple of months in which DNA wrassled him into the studio, for OVER A YEAR. With those starting conditions, our practice didn't seem so bad. But we would have to get a lot better if we weren't going to suck ass on stage on Saturday.
Did DNA pack his parachute correctly, or had he forgotten some important but elusive element in his ritual? Was H.O.G. really from earth, after all? Was it true that Mr. Kamikaze played the drums only because he had some?
The proof would be in the pudding, or more specifically, in the Quatro's Pizza the guys gorged on after DNA left.
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