Morrison brought darkness. Bowie and Murphy, theatre—Marceau and Artaud. Iggy was, is and always will be the endless scream, animalistic and unleashed. Raw Power baby.
Chris Cornell was swagger and sadness.
The news yesterday was a hit to the body—like Elliott Smith or Jeff Buckley so many years ago. It hurts a lot more when it's your fucking g-g-generation.
I listen to a lot of music, but loud music exists almost exclusively in the car. There's something about driving that makes this almost essential to the experience. Well, when I'm alone anyway. It's also where I listen to my own songs when I really want to judge a mix: if Queens of the Stone Age sound amazing and my new mastering is miles away...obviously I've missed the boat. Not that I expect to approach the same level of quality—but there's a middle ground to figure out. I call this the car test. I seem to remember reading about Jack White having a similar check as part of his mixing workflow, which really makes sense when you think about it: the best reference is the one you know. And a crappy reference is much more real world ready than a 20K sound system.
A few weeks ago I recorded a new song because...hmm, just because. And I uploaded it almost immediately to my music page, did a quick post about it on Facebook. But I skipped the car test. When I finally did listen to it while driving into the city...it made my ears bleed. Just a little. But enough. Let's just say I went a tad overboard with those mid-high frequencies—which are always a bitch to tame between vocals, distorted guitars and mellotrons; it's like 10 people crowding ONE corner of a room. I digress. Sooo...not being able to let sleeping dogs lie despite the absolute lack of urgency (this is really just me battling with myself): I remixed. And I added vocals. And...it still sounds pretty harsh and messy. But I'm posting it here, as a tribute of sorts—to Chris, to heroes...to swagger and sadness.
To peace in all of its cruel elusiveness.