A few days at “Knapsack” Pete McNeal’s house.
Pete and I are here, at his little house in West Los Angeles, going through a batch of new tunes. The idea is to hard-wire the songs to the beats–I’m looking to overhaul my approach to guitar–having for years been an entire band as a mere guitarist, the Haughty tunes were a situation where every instrument had to come to the guitar part. I want to shake this up.
Pleasant here of course. I have difficulties with Los Angeles. Mostly the light, intensified through the lens of the pollution. My friend Tina Fallon descrbed it as “Boring, in both senses of the word.” It’s true. Sometimes I feel like I’ve gotten a beatdown from the harsh whiteness of it.
But the music is coming together. I’m toying with the idea of getting a guitar player. Guitar players are difficult, sonically, for me. Many of them are too locked into genres, even those who can switch effortlessly between genres, and a lot of the cats with true style have trouble being in an ensemble. What I want is a guy who sounds like ME, except REALLY GOOD.
We ate at Chuck’s house in North Hollywood. News: Chuck is a GREAT COOK. I had no idea. Oh my God, a culinary beatdown. Best ribs I’ve ever eaten in my life. And he made a cheesecake. I’ve lived in New York since the 80s, and yet, no empty hyperbole, this was one of the best slices of cheesecake I’ve ever had. It was like, the ribs were astonishing, but the cheesecake, well, now you’re just fucking with me.