Liner Notes- Recording the Modern Illusion by Paul Curtiz - CH1

Join us each week as we release exclusive, never-before-seen chapters from Paul Curtiz's latest book, "Liner Notes- Recording the Modern Illusion", the companion to the highly-anticipated album release of "Modern Illusion". Be sure to listen to the first single "Nothing Like California" from the album available on Apple Music or Spotify, and you can also follow Paul on Facebook or Bandcamp for more updates.

Chapter 1: Sparkplugs

Can we have a quick word with you? We heard you’ve decided to make another record. It wasn’t originally in the cards, but you came up with the premise of a great song, and shared it with your musical partner, who, after a long hiatus, seemed as excited as yourself at the prospect of doing one more. Like an old married couple, you’ve known each other long enough, been around town a few times, and even the corniest of tropes is the perfect fit for this kind of occasion: 

“Does this mean we’re putting the band back together?”

So yeah, at the start it’s all peachy. Plans are made, expectations are high, future income that is still Mickey Mouse money at this point gets spent on new (old) guitars, outrageously expensive microphones, house extensions and/or swimming pool refurbishing. You find a good band/project name, you buy the web domain —admit it, you bought it. Leisurely touring is envisioned, only in royal conditions of course, and with significant others in tow. Your collaborator’s well-known quirks and other irritating habits are overlooked or ignored, based on faith in a fresh endeavour.

That pretty much lasts for the length of the first phone call initiating the project and the night that follows it. For after the brief honeymoon of excitement that tends to bubble up at every beginning, enthusiasm quickly fizzles out and reality rears its ugly head: you will have to deliver. That’s when you remember that this whole getup stands on the shoulders of the sketchy demo of one single tune. You came up with one damn tune and got it in your head to turn this into an actual project. Of course, you now will have to come up with another dozen of these buggers before you can even start recording the actual album. 

But at this point you are still very much a trooper. Sure, your creativity tends to be interrupted by lengthy bingeing of TV series about restoring classic muscle cars and surfing the web for good deals on guitar pedals you don’t need 1. But in your heart, you are all-in. You are willing to commit to a nordic-style, very strict daily regimen of writing and composing. You come up with a bunch of motivational quotes to keep yourself on track: “You’re not going catch a fish unless you go fishing”; “Success is not an activity but a process” (you quickly end up settling for a less demanding one: “It’s more about the journey than the destination”. And if you’re 100% honest, deep inside, you already know you’re full of shit).

Yet you soldier on, and through an astonishing streak of hard work that surprises even you, the somewhat shaky foundations for a further three songs emerge. Actually feeling good about yourself and filled with a sense of accomplishment, you summon the help of your bandmate and partner in crime —for this is a duo of musical soulmates. It’s now his turn to contribute to the edifice. You could certainly use a breather —not to mention the latest season of “Rust Valley Restorers” has just dropped on Netflix.

Let’s talk about “the bandmate” for a moment. There’s no question he’s a hugely talented person, but the truth is you’ve still had to drag him into this tar pit of musical self-indulgence by sheer power of convincing. You need his input in order for this thing to come close to what you’re aiming for. Unfortunately, it appears your convincing powers are more effective over a phone conversation and a couple text messages than when it comes to actually getting this person to get any kind of work done. The excuses reasons are numerous, well crafted, and suffer no contradictions:

— I need to do this on the big rig at the summer house.

— It is summer right now, so do you think you could get started soon?

— Yeah, but I’m at the winter house right now.

— When will you be back at the summer house?

— Probably early next month.

— So it’ll be autumn by then.

— Yeah, I need to hurry to get the rig up and going over there.

— Wait, you need to rebuild your rig?

— Yeah, most of it is still here.

— Most of your rig is still at the winter house then?

— Look, it’s complicated.

— …

— …

— So when do you think you could work on these?

— I guess I could get a lot done by the end of autumn.

— Can I count on that? I need to get some other stuff done too, and I want to plan around it so it doesn’t get in the way of our project.

— Absolutely. By the way, love that demo. It needs a bit of tinkering here and there but it’s a good start.

— Tinkering?

— Yeah well it could use a stronger verse and a more efficient chorus. Definitely needs a bridge, for sure. And you’re going to work on those lyrics, right?”

And there you are. A couple sentences that hit you like a sucker punch. While the second half of the duo recedes swiftly behind the cloak of procrastination, you get hit by a first hint of self-doubt. Nevertheless, ever the optimist, you brush your doubts away and armed with renewed focus, you take another shot at the song, fully determined to fix verse, chorus —and you’re even going to try to come up with a goddamn bridge, ‘cause that’s the kind of hard-working person you are. How hard can this be? All you need to do is to dive in deep and give it your full attention. Motivational quote of the day: “Take a deep breath, then try again.” 

So you try. Then try again. And again. Nothing. Nada. Zip. While weighing your options, you realise other people have done this before you, and it might be easier to jumpstart a fresh approach by listening to some music in the same vein. You don’t want to get too far out of the zone, because you’re acutely aware that your attention span is already stretched far beyond its natural inclination. If you set one foot outside of that studio, the day is shot, the momentum gone. So, the fastest way is to do a quick search on YouTube for a similar kind of chord progression and see if you can get something happening that wouldn’t smell like blatant plagiarism. You find a couple links, but your eye also catches a link to a video comparing all the different Memory Man clone pedals, and one about restoring a 65 Ford Mustang to its original red colour (is that Fiesta Red or Dakota Red?). One hour and dozens of videos further down the YouTube rabbit hole (including a very tempting pasta puttanesca recipe), you haven’t made any kind of significant progress. But, hey, you’ve tried, and you can always try again tomorrow. It’s time for a quick episode (or 3) of Rust Valley Restorers.

The next morning at the crack of dawn (11AM) you’re at battle stations again. And this time, the work you put in the day before seems to have borne fruit: you actually come up with a better verse, a stronger chorus and the emergence of a bridge. See? All you had to do was keep at it. Feeling very good about your progress, you quickly save the revamped demo and send it to your bandmate.

One hour later he calls you (garbled audio with heavy car background noise):

— Y.. sent .. something?

— Hey! Yeah, I worked on the song, I think it’s better now. Have you heard?

— Nah, I’m on t.. road. Dr.ving to the sum… house.

— Ah, I see. Well, give me a call when you’ve heard it, I really think it’s much better.

— I was th..king maybe we should use a compl.tely diff.rent approach.

— … What do you mean?

(audio improves slightly) 

— Well, you know, a faster tempo, a different key, and forget about that chorus.

— … But it’s the title of the song!

— You’ll find another one. Hey listen, I bought this new load box thingy to record my amps. Killer tones, dude. You should try it.

— Cool! So you’re going to use that at the summer house?

— Well no, all my amps are at the winter house.

— …errr… well, never mind, if you could just focus on the keyboard and the chord progression.

— No problem, I’ll do that next week, when I’m back at the winter house. I’m just going to check on the pool at the summer house, we have a leak there. Hey, there’s a great song title: “My Leaky Pool”. Ha ha ha. You should write something around that. Fits the project perfectly.

—  …

—   You still there?

1 note to self: where am I on that Analog Man overdrive waiting list?