 03 february 2000 the key of f blankets cover me but not microprocessing power on my lap Phil saw his shadow yesterday. The little putz. ~~~ At the previous thursday's practice, I managed to skin my elbow doing this, and the rest of the band, who quite liked the visual effect and sound, suggested that I wear an elbow pad beneath my shirt for that one track. (although the one non-musician in the room suggested that I just _not_ play with my elbow, that option was out of the question -- it just looked and sounded _too_ cool) So I dug out my old rollerblading gear, and brought an elbow pad to rehearsal on tuesday. Strapped it on for the last song, and played ... And it was way weird. First off, I couldn't feel the keys with my body. I didn't think this would be a big deal, but in this case it threw off my entire rhythm. I was missing the keyboard half the time, and when I _did_ hit the keys, I hit them all wrong. Second, and more importantly, I broke the high F key in half with the elbow pad. Now, I've been beating on my organ for years... (um, let me rephrase that) Now, I've been beating the crap out of this Hammond B-3 for years, and only once before have I managed to break a key in half, and that was during a gig, when I'm more likely to be playing at my most emotional. This was my first rehearsal "accident," and it couldn't have happened at a worse time or place, four days before our gig, and in the upper octave of the upper register -- in other words, where I do the bulk of my soloing. Thank heavens for foresight. Four years ago, I bought a second Hammond B-3 for $100. It didn't work. It still doesn't work. It sits beneath a pile of crap in the storage shed adjacent to our carport. And I've been mining it for spare parts since I've had it. Today, when I got home from work, I grabbed AC, and we dragged the old organ out and opened her up. It was almost like surgery ... "Philips-head?" "Philips-head." "Flat-head?" "Flat-head." "Wrench?" "Wrench." Fifteen minutes later, I had extracted the high F key from my back-up organ. The result is pictured above. A way-cool looking mechanism, soulful in its own way, just like the rest of its container. And tomorrow night, at dress rehearsal, it will find a new container, as Wamba and I replace the broken key with the not-broken key, and the show will go on ...
... at The Gig Remember The Terminator? He's stalking Sarah Connor in this disco, and Sarah Connor makes it to the pay phone in the back, and calls the police. And she tells them that she's in this club on Pico ... I wonder if it's the same place... Then again, Pico Boulevard's a pretty long street. ~~~ "Look behind you ... see that beauty, I bet it's a Ford Explorer ..." I glanced in my rearview mirror. There was a Ford Explorer. "And to your right, yep, right there, I bet it's a rugged F-series truck." I looked to my right. I was just passing an F-150. "And right ahead of you. See that? It's a Ford Expedition." Thank heavens there was nothing ahead of me, because I would have crashed into it from the state of shock I was in. Freaky. I heard the same Ford commercial later in the afternoon. At the time I was surrounded by two Mercedes and a BMW. Phew. ~~~ ~~~ One of my architecture school professors once said to me ... "The trick is not to finish on time, but to abandon your work at the right moment." This is hardly the right moment, but ... ~~~ one year ago: too lazy to write.
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