Leaving the past behind

Insert cliche` apology about not updating often enough here. I’ve had plenty of thoughts but it seemed embarassing to try to update again saying “hey, the CDs are almost ready!” But I believe they’re at Headphone Treats now – end of story! I’ll have them at a show soon, at least by the EP release show… er, well of course. Of course! Ha ha. Hm.

My family and I are moving to Atlanta. It has been ten years here in Nashville and I’m going to miss it – a lot. I’ll most likely get together a nice big post about things I won’t miss, but for now I just wanted my friends, acquaintences and mentors know that I’m going to miss you people a lot. They say that one can have 99 supportive comments and 1 negative comment but you’ll only remember that one negative comment. No, I’ve held each and every one of your words very closely. Every time I see your faces at a show, a party, get an email… anything – it means a lot to me. Thanks for letting me be a part of your life. I was really down about something a couple weeks ago and a lot of you gave me some kind words to cheer me up. I even got a call from Pat Buchanan (again, the guitarist and not the politician), who listened to my bitching and offered words of advice and reassurance – every musician looks up to someone, and I’m lucky to have someone who’s as good at being a mentor as Pat. All of the people I play with are irreplacable (no matter how many times I’ve changed lineups!), they all make me laugh, they all bring something amazing to my music… ok, a few aspects of moving really suck. I love all of these people. And I’m trying to keep the blog music-related but ya know, eff it. There are a lot of people that I love in this town who have nothing to do with music whatsoever (in fact, most of them) and I’m hoping that somehow I can learn to live without seeing them on a regular basis.

The great thing about moving is that it will help to end a funk I’ve been in lately. Bad things happened here when I was in my very early 20s and I can’t seem to let go of them – I often allow the cloud to follow me around. I have my recent houseguest to thank for a major mental change – Tony Moore, take a bow. Yes, Tony is from England and came to me via Matt Backer (Matt’s a buddy of mine from England as well) – Tony’s doing a U.S. “tour” (he’s taking over all of the major markets in week-long visits to each town) and his trip to Nashville was both hilarious and inspiring. Tony makes things happen, and he carries optimism around in a large rolling suitcase. He’s seen enough to have become as jaded as ten Adam McIntyres, but he tends to be very positive about his experiences rather than hurt by them – and that’s the key, folks. I always think of myself as a positive person – when I get bad news, I reassure everyone around that things will be okay, I solve problems quickly, and I put on a smile for everyone to see. But it seems like for every dozen reassuring smiles I give, I quietly decide more firmly that yes, the universe is out to get me… which is silly because frankly, the universe has better things to do with its time than get me. Tony, as politely as possible, gave me a swift kick in the rear and ended a little streak of bad luck that I’ve had with booking. I “blagged” a gig that very next night (hey, see you all at the 5 Spot tonight!) and I’m remembering how fun spontanaeity is, and confidence. In fact, maybe I should just nix that future blog post on things I won’t miss about Nashville. HA! No way, man. That’s going to be some good blogging. I can’t handicap my journal like that – I’m the agony of defeat at its funniest… I hope.

In other news, the entire family has the flu right now. Paul had a flu shot back in the fall, so this is clearly some horribly mutated strain. Heather has a terrible headache but the worst seems to be over. I’m on TamiFlu, which is what they’re giving me to keep me from getting the fullblown flu. I feel “a bit odd” but ya know, it could be the combination of amphetamines and mushrooms. Just kidding. We’re all taking a lot of naps. I would imagine that we’re on Wilferd Brimley’s schedule at this point, “get some g*ddamned sleep, it’s the right thing to do! Oatmeal! Arrrgh! Our House!” Ahem.

One day when things slow down a little bit and I can get some rest from these naps, I’ll tell you about my travels with Les Honky More Tonkies. Every. Single. Trip. I swear, it’s all gold. We need cameras following us at all times because if we’re not in mortal danger (ex: stuck all night in the van in the snow and ice on Lookout Mountain), some seriously funny stuff is going down. We’ve even had the cops after us a couple times but like the Duke Boys, we always seem to get off the hook. Blogging GOLD, I tell you… just not this week.

So yes, I’m moving to Atlanta probably in June. Fresh start, new optimism, completely new music scene and way of working. I’ll need a new band, obviously. What kind of musicians am I looking for? Oh, good ones. But ya know, ones I can laugh with. Being able to get along with people is kind of more important than style and skill… but just in case, I’m going to copy my musician wish list from the myspace page:
I will put two musicians for each category. I would like for the person I’m looking for to actually count one as an influence and have an appreciation for the other. Ready?
Bass: John Paul Jones, Carol Kaye
Drums: Glenn Kotche, Steven Drozd
Keyboard: Billy Preston, Roger Manning Jr

Whew, do I feel like a jackass now? Yes. And how. But maybe someone knows someone who knows someone in Atlanta (or Athens) who fits a description. It’s worth a try!

That funny warm feeling that you get when you’re sick and are being told by your body that it’s time to lay down for a nice post-Thanksgiving nap (except that it’s March) is taking hold. I’ll blog again soon and please don’t forget to grab a copy of the new EP when it comes out on April 11th via headphone treats OR iTunes. Whichever. Or ya know, come to a show. I think I’m only going to do a handful of Nashville shows before I become an Atlantan.

So, in conclusion… goodbye Nashville (I’ll miss you), hello Atlanta (I’m scared to death of you but all change is scary at first).

Adam

 

Gearing up to release another CD

Hi.

Dear clubs,
return my calls, eh? Seriously, this is stupid. When a rock band can’t get shows as a rock band touring the southeast, do you know what they’re called? Adam McIntyre.
The guys in the band are READY TO GO and I’ve got a can of whoop-ass around here somewhere…
Sincerely,
Adam

Meanwhile I’ve been touring all over the place as Les Honky’s bass player. You want road stories? I’ve got ‘em. You want hilarious run-ins with the law? I’ll tell you about it… one day when you’re old enough.

Yes, about that new CD coming out – technically an “EP” (for “extended play”, the vinyl format between singles and albums, usually consisting of four to five songs), “Per Ardua” was recorded, performed and produced entirely by yours truly except for the drums on three songs. This is the first time you’ve really heard me “produce” something (I took a production credit on the first record because nobody produced it and someone had to take the blame), so feel free to shove any credit or blame my way. The EP is full of energetic rock – which should make booking a little bit easier and also adds several songs to the live show. For now, you can preview it on mySpace with the exception of the Devo song. This is the fastest anything I’ve recorded has ever gotten released, so I’m excited for you to hear what’s in my head right now.

My son can say several words now, including “door” and “butt”. He runs around the house with a spatula. Need I say more?

Fall is upon us – I swear it came early this year. Everybody bundle up and try not to get the Bird Flu.

Take care,
Adam

 

Do Re Me Falsetto a la Tito

I have been busy. I lost fifteen pounds while I sat here recovering, frightened of eating even once it was possible again. The moment I was almost kind of recovered from my tonsillectomy, I went back out on the road with Les Honky and to my surprise was able to sing my backing vocal parts. I had to take it easy on myself but the pitches were there. Days later I was driving to a rehearsal and sang a bit of “Love Is The Answer” (from the new record) and found it not just possible, but easy. Those of you who witnessed me gagging on my tonsils during that song at the album release show I’m sure felt pity (it was the only “down” moment on an all-up night) as I strained and stretched to hit those high notes during the chorus. But check this out -
“Love is a gift you take and give, the answer was there all along…” See? Oh. Well if you’d heard it, you’d know that it was really easy and I nailed all the pitches without straining or having to switch to falsetto. It feels like a dead, rotting animal has been removed from my throat, which isn’t far from the truth. Singing is a different game now, but with practice my voice will become an ally rather than the constantly-changing nemesis it has always been.

Much recording has been done for the upcoming EP, as well as some recording just for the hell of it. I want to get a little more practice in before I start trying to do final vocal takes on the EP stuff, but as far as I’m concerned the EP is “on schedule”. Hopefully I’ll post a couple cover songs up soon as well… here’s a hint for one of them; Jimi Hendrix once sent a prayer to the troops overseas and it’s time for that prayer to be sent once again. As for the EP material, sure it’s still the same old me – except it sounds like I’ve been taking the LSD.

Being on the road with Les Honky has been amazing fun, filled with wonderful experiences. I’m so glad to have made so many new friends on the road in the towns we’ve visited from Kansas City to Black Mountain. Truth be told, I hate the road. It wears you out. But the inside jokes and the shows more than make it worth the trouble. Like a dysfunctional relationship that only works on a physical basis, I want to go back to it for more – with my own band. We’re starting to book shows for the Fall tour – if you live in or near the Southeast (roughly Virginia to Texas, maybe up to Chicago in the Midwest) and have a club you’d like to see me play, let me know. Or rather, let Headphone Treats know. I’d just forward it to them anyway.

My son recently learned how to throw a tantrum and go batshit insane in public. He’s normally very sweet and laughs all the time, so I’m willing to blame the teething – especially since he went back to normal yesterday. On Monday he screamed for several minutes solid while I tried to negotiate tire prices (I got a flat at The Coal Men gig), screamed and threw food at me while I tried to feed him and generally cried all day. Tuesday? Sweet toddler again. I simply raised an eyebrow, put my head down and powered through the whole ordeal… my point is that it’s hilarious, the things I used to get upset about.

Talk soon,
Adam

 

Ow my throat

Hello! This is my only way of communicating; the written word. My voice has been reduced to the quietest whisper today – day two.

I am now free of tonsil tyranny. Yesterday they hooked me up to an IV, a doctor readied his laser and scooped out two large spoonfuls of tonsils. My throat now reaches probably an inch farther back than it used to.
The upside of this is that when I recover, I’ll get sick far less often, I’ll probably sing much better and I won’t be able to um… taste my infected tonsils all the time.
The downside is vomiting about a cup of blood twice last night. I did take a photo of it if anybody wants to see – because how could you not take a photo? The toilet looked like the special bathroom stall in “Desperado” when I was finished with it. Of course I panicked. Of course I felt woozy. But damn it, that was cool… sort of. [Here it is. You've been warned.]
On a scale of 1-10, 1 being a little discomfort and 10 being the worst pain I’ve ever felt, swallowing is an 11 – a new high. Most of the time the pain’s only a four. It’s enough to keep me listless. I can’t take my supposedly excellent pain medication (demerol) because it’s making me nauseated. Here I am, grinning and bearing it.

My main problem is staying hydrated. I can only drink so much water at a time, and I constantly feel a bit feverish and anxious – like when you have the flu. That’s dehydration. Tossing and turning is how I sleep. When I turn the wrong way blood comes out, so I have to watch that.

Only about ten more days of this and I’ll be right as rain!

Oh, music stuff. Thanks for the positive reviews. I’m honored that some of you have overlooked the small things and that you’ve complimented the bigger picture. It’s pretty mind-blowing to read these positive reviews. I’m seriously stunned. I knew others would listen, but it hadn’t occurred to me that anyone would “get it”. That’s very humbling.

I gotta get back to my popsicles.

 

Buying the Myth

Wood and silver, ‘n the light still shines
I’ve still got mine but ya can’t read the name
Ain’t worth nothing but it works just fine
After all this time ya’d think I woulda thrown it away

Those were powerful times; driving around, listening to the CDs of a band I was about to join, getting totally wrapped up in the songs. Not even the songs themselves, but the entity right behind the songs that you only begin to hear once you really love them – once the magic happens for you. The songs become sponges, soaking up whatever’s going on in your life at the moment. Listening to those Shazam songs are in themselves happy memories, but the truth is that I was in my car driving aimlessly because I was in trouble with my ex-wife for something and was afraid to go home. The songs provided a much-needed vacation.

They were most certainly written with the author (one Hans Rotenberry) knowing that his creations would go out into the world and capture peoples’ memories, moving them to feel something other than the tedium of everyday life. If you tried to get all sappy with him about them though, he’d probably get uncomfortable. Last night on my way to practice with local southern rockers Les Honky More Tonkies, listening to Wilco, I wondered what Jeff’s friends think when they listen to Wilco CDs. Do they think “I can’t believe Jeff, of all people, made this insanely amazing music – he seems so normal”? Do their minds momentarily churn with excitement at the thought of asking him what he was thinking when writing a song before realizing that they should drop it, lest they make him terribly uncomfortable?

Songs capture moments for their creators as well, and I think that’s the root of why talking about them with the songwriters themselves can make them uncomfortable. At some point they loved the song enough to bring it into being, and loved it enough to record it or play it for an audience. After that, who knows? I think it’s the excitement of that moment of creation that we want to know about, that moment when some regular person created something extraordinary that can move us in the way that only music can. It’s buying into the myth, I suppose.

When you put your favorite album in, you own the myth of that record. You smell it, taste it and feel it in your whole body. Each song has a meaning and each note has a memory. Unfortunately, when you play it for someone who’s not in the mood, all they hear are songs with a beginning, a middle and thankfully an end. There isn’t some x-factor that consistently moves people to accept a piece of music as valid rather than an amateurish attempt to seem valid.

My new album’s release is three weeks away, and that means that a lot of music reviewers, radio station music programmers and music lovers with expectations will be looking at the artwork and hearing my songs, attempting to decide what makes them work and not work.

I am largely uninterested in this for some reason.

Perhaps it’s some defense mechanism, childishly rejecting the glowing reviews with the scathing. I’d prefer to think of it as simply feeling like I should enjoy having captured a stage of my life as well as I could at the time. Some will inevitably feel that the 17-track album “could lose a few songs” but to do so would be to lose a piece of the story – the overall effect is more important to me than having a short record. Some will say that it’s not enough this or enough that, but I don’t particularly remember things being 100% rosy or 100% terrible. The only reason I enjoyed the sweet as much as I did was because I could still taste bitter stricknine in the back of my throat. Does that mean that I’m buying my own myth? I don’t think so – I know where the songs came from and that I am proud that I brought them into being. What people do with them after that shouldn’t affect me one way or the other. It’s dangerous to buy your own myth anyway. Best to view yourself as a work in progress, and I certainly do that. This afternoon, I’ll hold the first copy in my hands and while I’m excited about it, it doesn’t mean the same thing it used to. I feel fulfilled that something has come to fruition and I’ll have some closure on that chapter of my life. The seventeen-year-old version of myself would have been quite sure that it was the most important thing ever. Cute kid – not too bright, though.

The follow-up EP is coming along; tracks are steadily being recorded and artwork is in progress. This will be a lot tighter than the album’s performances, and will show yet another side after deceptively starting off a bit poppy.

Paul is about to be a year old. That means so many things that I don’t know where to start – he has taken his first step but hasn’t followed it with a second (though it’s not far away) and he’s actually communicating with us now. It’s very strange. A minute ago he was a bean in an ultrasound and now he’s such a huge part of who I am, with a personality larger than life. Everywhere he goes, peoples’ faces light up. I hope he can always do that.

I didn’t have insurance for so long that last month I started taking care of this huge health-laundry list of things I’d been wanting taken care of. Yesterday the problem was finding the source of why my kidneys have been hurting. They did an ultrasound on me and I guess I’ll find out what ailment I have (kidney stones?) this afternoon. Today it’s finding out what damage was done in a hit-and-run rear-ending that happened to me in 2001. Neck pain has returned and now that I have the means to see a doctor about it, I will. Next month, shortly after the album release I will finally be liberated from the tyranny of my perpetually-infected tonsils. I hear that a tonsillectomy hurts worse than anything many people have experienced, including childbirth. I will go on the record now as saying that I do not care what I have to go through to get them out and start living a normal life. Every morning I wake up with my voice a little different than it was the day before (slightly higher or lower) and I know that it hurts my singing in two ways. First, obviously if your instrument is retuned every day, you’re only going to get so good at it. Second, the scar tissue that builds up and has to be scraped loose (how’s that for a mental image?!) every six weeks or so limits the upper end of my vocal range considerably the more of it there is. I’m always sick because of my inflamed tonsils’ open invitation to germs, and allergies affect me to a much greater degree thanks to the tonsils. I’m sick of them and I want them out. On June 14th I will return home with my tonsils in a jar and no matter how bad it hurts, I will have done the right thing. Apparently it only means 2-3 weeks of downtime. I do that by accident as it is.

So wish me luck with the health stuff and that the CDs arrive sooner rather than later. I’m anxious to see them.

 

I hate my son’s baby stroller.

A regular Sunday outing to have some Indian food and browse some sales at the mall turned deadly- er, somewhat fateful when I got a bit cavalier about unfolding Paul’s stroller. Two pieces of the stroller finally came unstuck from the folded position and locked themselves back together in the “stroller” position – on the ringfinger of my left hand. Five seconds of silent screaming later, I was able to unlock the stroller again and free my finger which was sending white-hot-and-cold streaks of pain up my entire arm. We kept it in a pack of ice for about half an hour but that didn’t really help – the parts had closed on the last digit of my finger where the nail is and had bruised it badly. That was two weeks ago and while the feeling has come back in that finger, it still hurts to play guitar. In the meantime I’ve been practicing drums a lot and working on “other things”. But more about that in a minute…

Despite the smashed finger, I did do a show the other night at the Family Wash in “East Nashville”. For those of you not from this area, East Nashville is not to be confused with Nashville – only the trendiest of the trendiest hipsters live in East Nashville. Against my better judgment, I like that area. I mean, if you can ignore the projects right next door to cute, fixed-up houses right next to crackhouses which are right next to the country club, yeah it’s great. I did a gig there with Gerlinda from WeakLazyLiar. It was Paul’s first time at one of my shows, and he was apparently quite amused at seeing his daddy singing to everybody. I’m looking forward to going back there in a couple weeks playing drums for our bassist, Josh Bennett. Gerlinda and I had spent the afternoon before the set playing songs to each other on my back porch. That memory will probably be with me until I’m an old, old man. It will be the day I realized that my journey as a songwriter is only beginning.

Before I smashed my finger, I celebrated my 27th birthday at ye olde Windows On The Cumberland with a quite good set of electric rock and roll. It was a good show – I can’t complain. The venue itself is worth plugging in at all and the bands we did the show with were two of the most gracious bands I’ve ever been on a bill with. We didn’t use any of our own amps or drums thanks to them. The whole deal was quite pleasant but unfortunately I had to leave (to relieve the babysitter) while the second band was playing The Meters’ “Cissy Strut” – one of the first pieces of music that Drivin South ever put down on tape.

But enough about things that are less me, let’s talk about things that are a bit MORE me. Dismal tone of this blog aside, when people read something I’ve written, they often ask me “Adam, you should write!” I remind them bluntly that they have not asked a question at all but merely ended a declarative statement with an unnecessary exclamation point. They then pull a brick out of their handbag and reduce me to pudding for my insolence. But seriously, why don’t I write? First, I have no education on the matter of writing. If you could see the high school I went to, you’d be impressed that I can eat grown-up food. College only confused me when they introduced me to words like “comma splice”, “topic sentence” and “the”. However, I’ve been told that I couldn’t do things before. Remember that crabby old bastard at Highland Music in Birmingham? He told me I should just give up playing guitar because he didn’t hear any talent. Obviously I didn’t buy an amp from him that day. I used my irritation to write Drivin South’s first song and the rest is forgotten history. Yeah, maybe I will work on the writing thing. I decided to write a series of short stories based on the songs from “Nothing Means Anything” and seventeen days later, I’m finished. Well, except for editing. It needs work but some of the stories turned out quite well. If you want a copy, let me know – I’ll email it to you. The main thing I learned during this process is that while I do have a certain amount of writing talent, I have a long way to go and I need to work on it like crazy to get there.

Speaking of other avenues, a friend called me recently wanting me to do the “film score” for her short film. It’s going to be a very funny film and I’m enjoying working on the soundtrack. I did take a couple years of film scoring classes at Belmont with the intention of eventually getting into it but doing film scores is kind of like getting any kind of job; no one will hire you without experience. I guess the goal is to eventually do Wes Anderson-y movies but I think Mark Mothersbaugh has that job locked down pretty tight. And he can keep it; God forbid anything bad happen to Markie. Check out “The Life Aquatic”’s intimidating score for examples of his work in Wes’s films. Yes, it’s the guy from Devo. And yes, I did just record a rough cover of Devo’s “Girl U Want”. A somewhat more polished version will probably go on an EP to be released this fall.

Did I just mention an upcoming release? Because I should mention that the new album, Nothing Means Anything, is being manufactured in a Portland factory at this very moment. Promo copies will go out in a mere two weeks and the full-on real deal will be in boxes at Headphone Treats in Atlanta well before the release date on June 7th. Watch out for its adverts in your favorite music mags around that time.

Time to go get Indian food and hopefully not to smash my finger again.

Over and out,
Adam

 

what I want to tell you

First, Happy Birthday, George! I’m getting a feel for the new studio with mostly covers right now and I threw this one together in honor of George… and also because that song got stuck in my head something fierce the other day. I ransacked the house looking for “Revolver” to no avail and finally had to record it myself to get it out of my head. I don’t listen to the Beatles every day or even every month anymore, but sometimes I still get a jones for them. This is complicated by losing half of my CDs every time I move house (it has only been a year since I moved, after all).

Miraculously, we’re still looking at early April for a release date. Mastering with Bob Olhsson went very well and since I blundered into the rare occasion of sitting in on the mastering session, Jimmy Ether and myself were treated to not only an education in matters of mastering but also were regaled with stories of the inner workings of MoTown in its glory days. After all, Bob mastered most of the hit singles that MoTown released in the 60’s. He has ears o’gold, a mastery over the technology needed to make digital recordings sound great and thank goodness he shares our disdain of mastering records as loud as possible so that the music sounds squashed. Ever notice how if you put the radio on a modern rock station, it might take you a couple seconds to figure out what the heck is going on? It’s mush. Pop it over to the oldies station and suddenly everything sounds clear – even Zeppelin on the classic rock station sounds meatier and clearer than anything on the radio now. Mastering for modern rock radio is a competition to see who can squash the music to get things the loudest (if you cut the top of the bedposts off, you could raise the bed to the roof!), which is funny because radio is also a competition to be the loudest – they limit, compress, eq and boost everything on the spot.
Thankfully this record doesn’t need to sound squashed, it just needs to sound good and I think we’ve done that. It will sound good on the radio and great in headphones.

Thanks also for sitting through a rant about things you could care less about and suffering an analogy that Chris Farley could have delivered in “Tommy Boy”.

I’m not just doing covers, I’ve started work on songs for the next record. I expect to complete a LOT and to be able to choose from the best since I have the luxury of time now. The Fishremover album is also being re-recorded on the new equipment, since it puts the old recordings to shame.

Oh, shows. We’re rehearsing right now… the next show will be almost entirely songs that haven’t been done live before. That will be coming up on March 11th at The End in Nashville. An album release show at The Basement is in the works, with another album release show in Atlanta. I’m starting to actually look forward to playing on stage again.

That’s about all I have to report. Heather is well, Paul has some teeth now and says “dada” and “mama”, depending on what he needs. Oh, and I have grown a beard… because I can.

 

The Year Of The Rat

Happy New Year, folks. We just lived through the worst natural disaster since EVER, topping off a year that was already a bit too “exciting” for my comfort. I became a Dad just in time to lose my own, watched a nation divide over an election and a war, and just generally had a lot to worry about. I also got food poisoning on Christmas Eve, so I have few memories of my son’s first Christmas. That’s life, though. I can’t complain, but I can look back through the year’s scrapbook and shake my head – so much STUFF happened! And again, the tsunami thing… I don’t even know how to talk about it. My mind is completely blown by the destruction and death. I can’t even wrap my brain around it.

We’d like to put out the record in April, that’s what we’ve decided. Barring any more unforseen delays (and I can’t imagine that happening… oh, UNFORSEEN… yeah), that’s quite reasonable. Mixing should be finished by next weekend – yes, you heard me. The room known as the “music room” in my house has been soundproofed and repainted a lush red/gold color and is now ready for newly upgraded recording equipment – and cymbals. Don’t forget the cymbals – I have, for a couple years now. Just never had the cash. I’ve been borrowing cymbals for about half that time and the other half of the time I just haven’t had any cymbals. So even though I have a drum kit at all times, I can’t really practice and I’m looking forward to that changing – and obviously I’m looking forward to having more than four tracks. Pleased as pie with the new paint job in the room, my son crawls around and gnaws on the red hose housing a long string of rope lights – he loves doing that. So when the next record rolls around (and I’m about to get started on it at as leisurely of a pace as I can stand), you’ll probably hear lots of baby babbling and squealing because he’ll be in there with me most of the time. There are probably four strong personalities on the new record and on the next album there will probably be a lot more – no two ways about it, it’s going to be a dark record. I have a slew of song ideas, loosely grouped under song titles that only I know what they mean at the moment. Yet I have so much to be happy about that of course there will be bits and pieces of the ditties and lullabies that I write for my son and of course lovely love songs for my girlfr- fianc- wife will abound. I’m already in such a different headspace than when I wrote the new record – but at least I’m still recognizeable as the same person. When RS&SH came out, I had completely changed since those songs had been written that I felt like it was someone else’s record. I’m so glad that the new record doesn’t feel like that. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I get right back into the situation I was writing about and I forget that any time has passed at all. Most importantly, I can still stand behind the sentiments even if I have continued to mature. Part of the danger of writing what you know and capturing the moment is that a year or two later you can go back and think “ah, I was crazy” and I’m glad to not feel that way… yet.

Let me know if I become redundant while repeating myself over and over.

Fishremover will hopefully resume recording this month. I don’t know if we’re going to re-track anything on the new system but that shouldn’t take long even if we do. I’m just looking forward to the intensity of side two (yes, we’re working chronologically from the first song to the last), as it will all be one song.

Oh, more good news – I haven’t had many nightmares lately. They’re backing off a bit. Come to think of it, I believe that they stopped when I had food poisoning. Hm. Trade-off.

And finally, I hope everyone had a safe and happy new year. Hopefully, This Will Be Our Year.
Cue The Zombies, maestro.

 

Lack of live performances – explained!

My son and I are the only ones awake right now. It’s Sunday morning, he’s learning how to crawl and I would pop in some Velvet Underground if I could only find some right now. I have to settle for this Ted Leo disc which in fact does remind me a bit of my first album – I see where the comparisons came from now. I wonder if anyone will mention his name to me again after the next record comes out – probably not. Speaking of which, I just listened to some pseudo-final mixes hot from Headquarters a little while ago and I am officially pleased. There were delays with getting started on mixing due to some faulty speakers (“why is there so much bass?!”) but things are well underway now.

A couple years ago around this time, I woke up with a really intense pain in my lower back (which turned out to be abdominal rather than kidney pains) and vomiting. Mmm… Norwalk Virus. This morning I woke up with nausea and pain in my lower back – that’s why I’m awake before everyone else; I panicked! I don’t think I’m sick again but it did worry me. After something like that happens, you always feel fear at the first tinge of pain in certain spots. It’s probably stress or anxiety-related. My anxiety problems have been at bay for a long time but I can tell by the way that my heart is doing backflips this morning that they’ve come back for an unwelcome visit. The difference is that this time I’m a Dad now – level-headed and ready for challenges. Still, it’s hard to laugh at a racing heart.

As you may have gathered from the last update, my Dad died. I was with him the day before he died, taking him to chemotherapy and keeping his ears warm with my hands. He seemed okay – he wasn’t any worse than the week before for the first time since he was diagnosed. This round of treatment was coming to an end and it looked like he’d have enough time to recover from them to have another Christmas with us. However, the morning after I left he woke up in intense pain. He told his caretaker that he was dying and was rushed to the ER. The ER took some obligatory X-Rays, gave him some pain medication and sent him home. He died a few hours later.

I spoke at his funeral, accepted as much closure as I could and came back home to let the grieving run its course. However, I’ve had dreams about Dad’s funeral almost every night since then – dreams that I’m late, I’m not going to make it. I feel fine but my subconscious apparently isn’t taking it so well. This will be the first Christmas without Dad.

There was a point in there somewhere about also being sort of… I don’t know, let down? I really wanted him to hear the new record; it was important to me. It’s the first thing I’ve done that I was pretty sure my Dad would 100% dig. I guess I needed that pat on the back; he’s probably the only person I really needed it from. In the end, I made myself happy with the record and I should be pleased with that. One tries, you know? But you never fully understand it until the parent you’ve been trying so hard to impress all these years is gone. Maybe that’s what the anxiety dreams are about.

That’s just how life goes though. I’m not going to get bogged down in thinking about it. In the other column, my wife and I finally had a wedding ceremony once things calmed down (before Dad died) last month and it was a lot of fun. Baby Paul wore a tux and was generally the life of the party. My cooking skills are ever-improving and I’d say it’s a genuine hobby now alongside my gardening. And don’t forget about the record. We’re having a living legend master it once Jimmy Ether is finished mixing it – I will say no more about THAT until it’s a done deal. I’d say that the record will be out by April – and that’s a very liberal estimate. It could be out in February or March, but don’t get your hopes up for that. This release is going to be done right or not at all. We’ve tried very hard to make the whole thing generally beautiful for you to look at, listen to and hold and we’re not going to half-ass anything. Same goes for live performances, which will eventually resume as we gear up for the release. In the meantime, I may actually remove the tonsils that have been infected for the past seven years. I’m getting tired of them and what they do to my singing. There’s always a small chance with a tonsillectomy that one’s singing voice will be forever ruined, but I think I’d rather take that chance than never get it done. I’m always sick, always straining against scar tissue in my throat and I’m tired of it. If I can never sing again, I’ll simply focus more on the three instruments I already love playing. I’m also planning on getting decent at piano over the next year anyway.

Also, the four-track days are coming to a close soon. After 11 years, I’m finally upgrading to more tracks and bigger technology: a mac and protools. Nothing replaces tape, but I’m excited about my home demos not sounding like they were recorded on a wax cylinder anymore. Plus, a recent recording project (another World Party tribute CD is coming out and I submitted two tracks with help from fellow Superhype alum Eric Stroud) very nearly caused me to lose my mind and start smashing things when it took me 10 hours to do 45 minutes’ worth of work. It was so mentally exhausting that I finally did something I’ve been worried about doing for these 11 years – I erased an hour’s worth of backing vocals by putting a guitar solo over them. No, I didn’t redo the backing vocals – I grabbed a beer and contemplated becoming an alcoholic for the rest of the day, then thought better of it and started the long, arduous mixing process on my current “system” which I won’t go into. I shall however describe it as driving to a place you’ve never been before – without being able to see. It’s about that much fun, too. As you can see, I’m ready to upgrade the home studio in a big way.

Well now everyone’s awake (my friend Steven spent the night in the spare room and my wife woke up and is tidying some of my messes) and the house’s demeanor has changed considerably since popping Wilco’s “Summerteeth” in the CD player. Paul is banging on his toy piano along with the title track. Maybe all I need is a shot in the arm, eh? I guess my friends and family would be that shot.

Adam

PS. I wonder if “online casino” guy is going to comment on this entry? Ooh, I can’t wait to see.

 

Adam’s Eulogy to his Dad

Pat McIntyre’s grandson is sitting over there, and in just a short time came to know my Dad as well as anyone could hope to. When they first saw each other they both smiled, and then they laughed at each other. What inside joke they shared, they never said. I was just glad that they’d made a good first impression.

Dad could, to his acquaintances, be as hardheaded, crabby and opinionated as anyone – Dad didn’t care who thought that, either. More often than not, he would let his actions speak louder, for he was what some might call an introvert. For those who were willing to read past the hermetic exterior, he was a real treat. He was always full of surprises.
As kids, my brother Patrick and I would complain that Dad couldn’t do anything. Everybody else’s father had some important title or skill that made them special and ours didn’t seem to. He wasn’t a mathematician or a doctor or an architect.
As you already know, our Dad wasn’t your typical guy – in any way.
Before I was born, he’d already been a racecar driver with razor-sharp reflexes ? a skill that also made him one of the best shooters you ever met. Obviously, I had been judging my father by entirely the wrong set of rules.

Every time I gained a new interest, I discovered that my Dad had already been there and done it better in his search to express the way he saw the world. His photography was a main outlet for good while, capturing the simple beauty of his surroundings in stunning and often complex ways. There was Pat the poet – a man who had never been educated in such matters, he displayed natural talent with verse. He wrote short stories from time to time, and kept humorous journals of his everyday life. Dad wouldn’t boast that he was a creative type, but in everything from snapshots to woodworking, he celebrated life the way an artistically creative person does. He even found a couple of occasions to show me some guitar licks against his better judgment!

If people didn’t see Dad much around town in social circles, it was because he was quite literally too busy stopping to smell the flowers in his backyard. You might find it odd, but I never did, to see a grown man so excited about a new flower blooming on his porch. Cutting down flowering trees were taught to be a crime, and when autumn came, it was mandatory to take walks in the woods every day to show me new things. He had a deep love of nature, and didn’t care at all for traffic jams and supermarkets. It was a world he preferred not to leave, but you were welcome to come visit him in it, just as long as you didn’t scare off his deer, raccoons, opossums and other adopted pets.

It may comfort you to know this, but Dad wasn’t scared of death. I don’t mean that he was a daredevil, though frankly, he could be at times. I mean that he didn’t judge his life by his failures, but by what he had learned from them and subsequently he had an alarmingly long list of accomplishments that he, my brother and I? and all of you can be proud of him for.
Near the end, Dad faced a disease that promises, usually without fail, to strip one of their health, their dignity and finally their life. To say that he was courageous in this fight would be a dreadful understatement – he fought cancer not out of fear of death, but rather the determination to win on general principle, and he often fought it with his trademark sense of humor intact. In the end, he died with his dignity, taking a nap at home where he wanted to be, his heart and soul at ease because of fiercely devoted friends and family taking care of him. It could have been a lot worse, and in fact it couldn’t have been a more picture perfect ending? and technically cancer didn’t win. I think we all knew that it wouldn’t – stories like this just don’t end that way.

If he’d continued the fight, things would have gotten much worse; pain would have become horrific, the days would have blurred together and our faces would have been forgotten. But no, his time had come before all of that. One of His great children here on Earth was being called back home just in time. He would love to see you all here today to remember him, and I’m even more proud of him because of all of you. But I urge you to pay respect to his undying spirit, warmth and sense of humor rather than the vessel he occupied here on Earth.

Take a look around you, at the great things God has created. In the middle of your busy day, stop to laugh at the flowers – they’re there to remind you that our creator often winks at us from on high, why else would they be so bright and cheery and fill us with joy. We’re here to experience tragedy so that the great glowing moments of our lives will be that much brighter – and this is not a tragedy, for God is bigger than death. Our souls are bigger than these bodies we occupy and when we graduate from them, the journey is far from over.

If you loved my father, continue to. And smile when you think of him. Take the silliest or nicest thing he ever did for you and write it down and keep it with you at all times. Hopefully it will keep you chuckling. Obviously laughter was important to my Dad, and it was one of the first things he taught me. I’ll probably spend the rest of my life figuring out all of the teaching he did when I didn’t realize I was learning, but imparting a sense of wonder about the world around us and keeping a smile on our faces was important to him and I urge you to remember that and keep it fresh in your hearts and on your faces.
Thanks.