When life gives you bad practice rooms, grab life by the throat, throttle it, hide the body somewhere and do this.

I hate the practice rooms at BYU. Boasting worse ventilation than the men's locker rooms, sub-par pianos, poor lighting and no sound-proofing, if I didn't know these rooms were on a church-run campus, I'd say they were straight from a hell designed by 16th century monarchs looking to torture their more disappointing court musicians.

The ugly face of HFAC outer darkness.

It's a bleak picture to walk into after the euphoric triumph of passing the school's aural exams and making it into the school of music. For all the hype associated with the school and its subsidization via tithing funds, one would think the facilities would've been upgraded by now to help meet the unique challenges associated with 21st century competition in America and elsewhere. Alas, 'tisn't the case.

And while that might be distressing, discouraging even for some, I think I've found a way to account for most of the problems associated with the fact that these facilities were designed to coerce performers into more realistic careers as teachers.

Rather than blabber on endlessly about my solution, here's a few pictures that highlight my ideal practice room in a few deceptively short steps.

Stick a chair over there...

Put a laptop with your favorite affordable DAW over there (make sure your ram, CPU and hard drive are sufficient)

Then stick an audio box up there so your compy can talk with your mic. I like the Roland Quad Capture.

Throw in a quality dynamic mic, some amazing German headphones to account for all the noise and shwalla.

And suddenly, things were sounding a lot better. And the tuba blaring in the room next to me was only coming in at 15 decibels instead of 110. All told, this set up probably cost me a little more than a thousand dollars. The laptop didn't break 800, the quad capture was about 250, the mic I got for free (though usually those guys run around 500), and that's it. I could set this up in my truck if I wanted to because it all can be crammed into a 2x2 foot space. You could literally set this all up in a bathroom stall. Though I don't recommend it. If people get uncomfortable at the sound of other people's turds dropping audibly, I doubt they'll care much for your attempts at finding yourself creatively in the local porcelain palace.

DRAGON PUNCH!

'I work out every SATURDAY!'

Well this was fun. I don't often get to be in videos, mostly because the theater department at my high school was about as enticing as a double date with Freddy Krueger and his favorite lover Jason. 

Obviously this has nothing to do with music, with the sole exception of that toned down 80s flashback to toy/game commercials of the longer-haired, shorter-shorts days hailed as great by everyone who was high on one of about 500 different kinds of narcotics at the time. That music being the product of my less than two hours' worth of exertion. Which really isn't saying much. Have you heard standardized guitar licks for commercials in the 80's? It's not like they hired Van Halen for every shoot you know. If they had I would've muttered more than one or two choice words after being asked to do this particular job.

A rare, to-scale canvas rendering of the famed guitarist.

But fortunately it wasn't the case, and proved to be mildly more challenging than writing a riff for a be-bop solo. So there you have it folks, what I'm going to call my acting debut (since I'm sure as hell not going to call the 'Bavarian Butcher' my first foray into acting). 

Cheers!

Acting Debut and Video Editing

Psych, no debut here, but the video's complete. I just finished recording the music for, editing, and mixing a silly ad for the undeniably rad board-game reviewing website, SPACE-BIFF!.

Space-Biff!, in all its unfettered, board-gaming glory. Evolution is an awesome game btw.

That's not the game we did a video for, but my goodness. Evolution is awesome. If you want an amazing, reasonably accurate paleontological experience then look no further (with the notable exceptions of Greenland and Neanderthal), because this game's got it all.

Before this turns into a review for a board game, let me just say what a blast it was acting and editing once again for the same bit of film. Obviously there was a different director and clearly a better camera at work, but it was still fun. It helps that the director is my best pal in the universe and I'll pretty much do anything he asks short of cutting off my generations forever. 

Cause' you know...I want one of these! And not just for the bathroom stall.

There was music involved too...I did write and record it. But I won't be posting it here because it was uh, very much not a stand-alone piece. Yeah, that's how I'll put it. The director, no less than the great Dan Thurot (Thur-OHt), told me he loved it, but it's not a style I do all the time so I'm not as comfortable spreading it all across the internets like I would jelly over toast on a particularly hunger-inducing morning. 

But when it's up I won't stop you from watching it, nor will I shy away from admitting the music is my own. Dan told me it'll be up sometime this week when he does a review for the game DRAGON PUNCH, and then I'll also post the link here for your viewing pleasure, heh.

El Camino High School Music Program

I've heard a smattering of times that it's good to remember where you come from. I wonder out loud to myself, "Why is that? Is there some sort of special advantage to be had from remembering one's origins?" Certainly, there's value in determining the original source of one's success in order to replicate it. But why carry a homage to something that has perhaps only sentimental value, or worse, is a poor memory of distant hardships long left in the dust?

I may never know the answer to the latter two questions, because this was a damn good school for music.

"If you can make it at El Camino, you can make it anywhere", said the principal, despite knowing the metaphor was wasted.

El Camino High School was in the midst of the beginning of its golden era in the music program when I first attended. A great new band director, Mr. Glaser, had been slowly but surely building up the scene for some years prior to my arrival. The choir was...well you know, it was a good enough choir. I tried it once. Fun times. The theater department was interesting, as were its students.

The right face is your face. The left one is your face once you've joined a high school theater department.

Anyway, the programs for jazz and classical respectively were chugging along at a locomotive's pace, unwavering, building up to a strong hum semester after semester, and in 2001 I found myself caught up in the swirl.

When I first tried the sax out in my middle school jazz band, I got in because the band teacher pitied me. He wanted all older middle school students to have a shot, and I was grateful to get one. The music we played soared through my veins and gave the distinct impression that some part of me was beginning to fly for the first time. Perhaps it's not a coincidence that I had many dreams back then of soaring over the clouds. It was also a great time for my physical health. The teacher relegated me to the lowly task of bari saxophone, and cured my asthma for all intents and purposes.

Move ahead one year- coming to El Camino I was much more well-equipped to introduce myself to their world of music, and initially I was O.K. So you know, pretty awful, but still in tune half the time, as long as it wasn't a D or very high or very low, etc etc.

And then something magical happened. I'm not sure when the combination of Mr. Glaser's teaching us to be unafraid and my urgent desire to make something new lit a fire. You see, Mr. Glaser's students, by and large, were fearful of soloing, with the exception of one or two other kids. So when I volunteered for every single song, he permitted it, even encouraged it. At first things were pretty shaky, but gradually, almost imperceptibly, a raging flow of music and creative ideas exploded from my head along with a surge of unspeakable joy. I had become linked to music and creation in a way I had never really experienced before, and to this day it remains one of the most beautiful and happy memories I'm capable of recalling.

Caveat: Improvisation also leads to neural-electric overload. 

I guess what I'm driving at is that as long as Mr. Glaser or his legacy remains at that school, it will be, in my opinion, the finest school of music the San Juan Unified school district has to offer. Because unlike virtually every institution I've been to, no one I've met has fostered creativity, fresh thinking, and innovation while still recognizing the value of tradition like Mr. Glaser has.

Dance That Noise Away Music Video Complete

Alright it's up! At long last, the reason behind my massive canker sores and raging colds comes to a conclusion. I might get to sleep for an hour tonight.

As was mentioned before, there were a ton of things to learn from this project. Perhaps mostly how to improve for next time. Using less auto-focus, having way more prep time, using better lighting for slow motion shots, not being late for the shoots you planned to the point where one of your extras is starting to lose her health because you've held her to the point where she isn't taking her meds. You know, things like that. 

Perhaps a more positive thing that was gleaned from this situationally ambitious project was what I'm capable of producing in a very short period of time. It took me approximately twelve hours to write the song, record it, mix and master. It took another twelve to sixteen for the filming, cutting, editing and final production of the whole video. Granted, there were a lot of flaws remaining in both due to the time constraints; nevertheless, the process illuminated interesting new possibilities. Like uploading a simpler song per day while working on more ambitious songs and videos in the interim. 

I doubt I'll actually be able to upload a song per day, but to do so with increased frequency is certainly an ambition of mine now that I've gone through this rather fun process once. So pull out your aural filters and get ready for a McDonald's speed production of day old music, because that's the next experiment on my docket. 

Video Coming Tomorrow Morning! (Or uh, today, since this post was finished by this morning)

All the work, delaying irrelevant homework, juggling two jobs and full-time school in such a way that allows me to spend a little time on the projects that actually matter is about to pay off.

Will the camera's potential energy go kinetic at any moment? That's what I wonder every time I haul that thing on my PC.

The editing is finished, the recording is properly mixed, the quality raised to HD. There's only a few more things to add and then, tomorrow morning at long last, my terribly amateur video will make its way from my brain's womb out into the open, probably looking as hideous and lizard-like as most babies do at that point.

I'm keenly aware that nothing will come of this. I could barely get half my friends to come out to goof off with me for the final shoot. At best it'll be a fun inside joke between pals, at worst someone on reddit will notice it exists.

For me the victory comes in finishing the project. It's the beginning of the most important of processes, one where all the wheels of the kinds of creativity I value most turn endlessly and at breakneck speeds to produce something new and different. You see this is all very much new to me, and I don't look at my creative output at this juncture as anything financially viable as much as I view it as a hopeful learning experience that may at some future date open up avenues to opportunities that will translate into something more substantive. 

 In the meantime, my room is clean, the homework is done, I've got work, there's a beautiful girl in my life and things are good. =)

I'll be up bright and early tom-...oh it's one in the morning. Well, I'll be up in a few hours and after work I'll finish the video and upload it for your viewing pleasure/disdain/whateveritisyoutubersliketodothesedays.

G'night.

Music Video Final Cut

I've been up for three hours calling in all my extras, what a logistical nightmare. Ridiculously, almost everyone can make it, which shocks me to the core to be honest. I'm still not sure it'll be enough, but with the miracle of select camera angles it shouldn't be impossible to create the illusion of a huge rave.

The last scene I need to shoot that requires other people is happening today at ten pm. WOOT! I can't tell you how gratifying it is to attempt to cram a bunch of people into the same awful office space for a satirical take on modern music videos. Promises to be lots of fun.

So no more spoilers. All I needed was to vent my excitement somewhere without giving away the entirety of the video.

Seriously so excited! I had a concept, wrote out a screenplay, experimented with and revised the screenplay, did a lot of the filming myself already, got my little brother to help with scenes I needed a cameraman for. It's been rad. Just rad. As an utter newb to the industry, I'm thoroughly enjoying myself. After today all that'll be left is a few edits, one scene and a smattering of beats I can mostly do on my own. Cheers to the miracles made possible by modern home studios.

Sue Young's Anti-Writer's-Block Book

I have a secret love affair with my mailbox. Every now and then when no one's around and it's late at night I'll wander over and start slowly rotating the lock over my little square of joy. Right three times, left twice, then gently, oh so gently I slide it back until that timeless, barely audible *click* sounds. I take a moment let go of the breath that's caught in my throat and whisper at the edge of the door, 'What have you got for me today beautiful?'

Well she didn't disappoint the other day, I'll tell you that. The rest is between us...

Admit it. You're jealous.

The Comprehensive American Rhyming Dictionary is a rather brilliantly designed piece of work that acts as a fine augmentation to the process of any poetic creation. Whenever I'm struggling to find a word that rhymes with another and requires thematic cohesion, this is where I go. Obviously, it's preferable to read a lot of good literature and pick things up that way because you learn more about context. Still, this is a nice, distant second in a pinch. Especially if you're pressed for time like I am more and more these days.

Sue has come a long way since her debut work, the "Comprehensive Middle-High English Rhyming Tome".

There are several people who have tried to capitalize on this concept. One might think this would be both an easily sell and execution in a world increasingly saturated by artists trying to become the next big thing through their poetry and prowess. And while I'd argue the former is true, most authors digging away at this niche have struggled with the the fundamentals of organizing a dictionary of this variety.

Damn technocrat hit the thermostat so I'd pass the hat to mah hobie cat and we'd tit for tat cuz that's where it's at, pullin' out from underneath him Sprat's welcome mat. NOW DROP THAT BEAT *bwaaaahh*

As you might have surmised, every author runs into the same problem with setting this type of dictionary in alphabetical order- that order does not account for rhyming whatsoever. Whatever word comes after 'umbilical cord' in Webster's isn't going to rhyme with umbilical cord. So you've got a lot of mashed up, garbled nonsense put together by a number of would-be authors who probably sniffed out what they thought would be an easy opportunity, got to the hard part and buckled under the pressure of actually trying to make something cohesive, intuitive.

Sue succeeds magnificently through a rather ingenious blending of onomatopoeia in alphabetical order, and then putting every conceivable word under that onomatopoeia in alphabetical order as well. It might seem tricky to navigate at first, because looking for words based on sounds, word-endings and beginnings rather than standard word structure isn't what any of us grew up doing. But trust me, a few weeks with this beauty and you'll be thinking in terms of prefixes and suffixes no problem, putting M&M to shame more than he already has himself.

Cheers!

Sad Day on The Freeway, A Productive One At MDH Central.

Thousands of officers in their vehicles took to the I-15 today to honor their fallen comrade Doug Barney. It was quite a sight. I've never seen such a vast showing for the death of a single individual before in person. It started with a host of roughly 40 police motorcycles riding in lines before a steady trickle of police vehicles began pouring in from every exit south of Murray.

*Insert something tasteful here*

I was awe-struck by the scope of the procession and maaaaay have been slightly late to work because of it. But I'll live.

I got home later that day and jumped back into work on a song I'm really getting into. Here's a small sample of it. Sort of reminds me of a certain Queen classic, but I can't help myself. Queen was rad.


Yeah, every time I hear it, there's a small voice in the back of my head screaming, "WEEE WILL WEEE WILL ROCK YOU!"


P.S. That app up there is pretty awful. Sorry about that. If it's giving you trouble just hit the refresh button and remember, I in no way suggest you use podsnack. I'm pretty sure there are like, 10 better options out there, but I was lazy and wanted something quick today so I settled for this heap of insidious crap because it at least didn't have malware.

Cheers!

'He's Mister White Christmas, He's Mister Snow. He's Mister Icicle, He's Mister Ten Below'

I've wondered if my attempts at writing a legendary Christmas song the likes of which hadn't been heard since 'I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day' weren't curtailed by bitter weather (lacking sufficient skill and life-experience aside). I love the snow, personally, and I even get a sick pleasure from rainy days and Mondays (yes, even combinations of the latter two). But for some reason my ability to experience the thrilling rush of joy that Christmas is for me gets cut short some when I can't feel anything underneath my shins. It's pretty much the pits.

This is what my legs feel like. Pizza boxes included. 

The truth is that despite living in Montana for two years, getting saturated by the east coast's humid freezes, and surviving the frozen valleys in Utah, I'm still a west coast baby who craves constant sunshine. A Californian, to my increasingly great shame as I notice disaster after disaster from that part of the country make headline news. 

Unless I was allowed to live in the middle of that giant sequoia tree. That's the only exception.

All that being said, there's good reason to write music in this oppressive atmosphere. I usually find when things are unpleasant outside and I'm increasingly frustrated by futile attempts to write philosophically grounded music inside, that my capacity for whimsical fun increases by a factor of roughly 2 billion. It's true. I measured it on a scale that I invented myself. The scientific article documenting our research team's findings will be shortly published and distributed on JSTOR under the heading,"Why All Nutritional Data is Subjective."

I take a lot of my inspiration from a selection of C.S. Lewis books that no one's ever heard of in order to keep the hipster mystique alive.

The Realities of Aging.

Fear mortals, for the night of Dracula's power approacheth. One centimeter of receding hairline a day.

I refuse to accept this. I'll get hair plugs if I have to.

'How stunning are the changes which age makes in a man while he sleeps!' murmured Mark Twain darkly one morning after seeing his newly bedraggled, ruin of a face in the mirror. That's what I imagine evoked this quote from no prolific reader's favorite author. My body can relate Mr. Twain, though its complaints have less to do with my face (which some still feel makes me look 23) and more to do with my legs (which some still feel makes me look like I accidentally locked myself in my room for a month). 

And other things, if I'm honest. So I made a New Year's resolution (cue jeering snickers) to not necessarily work out every day mind you, but at least make an appearance at the gym. Note the significant distinction. You see I have faith in my capacity to make that first step happen every day. I don't believe for two seconds that I would actually follow through on BOTH steps more than three days straight. Yet, I do believe that if I only think of the first step and commit to that, that some logical part of me will awaken enough from that journey and urge me in the door once I reach my location of choice. Time will tell.

Those aren't Star Wars socks. I have no idea what you're talking about.

So I did leg day and ow. I'd forgotten how much I don't  like going to the gym. Then came that moment afterwards when you finish, feel so good, and write a revisionist history in your mind about how you think the gym is great, only to realize the next morning when it's time to go again just how untrue that sentiment was.

Still, go I must. If not for my own health, for the sake of the small degree of athleticism required for competitive musical performance. I mean, If I can't dance like Beyonce while playing like Charlie Parker without breaking a sweat or losing my breath, do I even have a realistic shot at anything in life? No, definitely not. Certainly nothing music-related. I doubt I could even get hired on as a garbage man without making a pronounced self-adulatory hip-thrust.

All that aside, it's increasingly crucial for exercise to factor in as a part of my daily routine in order to improve regulated breathing, support, lung capacity...and y'know, to prevent the inevitable future back problems everyone with 4'0 long legs suffers without regular maintenance. 

The George Lucas in me surrenders.

I don't like collaborating with other people over my creative ideas. When I have a vision for some improvisational fun I hog it the same way I did flank steak those rare days my parents put it on the table. 'It's mine, MY OWN!' And no one else can touch it! You could put a refugee fleeing ISIS at the same table with me those days and even then for every slice they took, a part of my soul would have died.

People who say love is the stuff dreams are made of never cooked this properly.

Well reality collided with my vision of fun the other day when I realized I can't both act and move the camera at the same time in the music video. Before admitting defeat I literally day-dreamed about how awesome it would be to have an extra set of long, invisible arms so I wouldn't have to get anyone else involved.

In the end it behooved me to get an extra cameraman so I dragged my soon-to-be-married brother down to a few filming areas and had him do the three or four beats on my schedule. He was unexpectedly competent, a phrase much more frequently used to describe me than him. I don't know why I ever doubted his ability to swivel a large object on a fixed platform. I mean just look at all that studly swagger.

"I'll swivel you as suavely as I did that fossil of an HDV."

At some point, we possibly went a little overlong. He kept cursing under his breath, muttering,"There wouldn't be so much time for him to waste if HE would get married too...", and "If I ever get home to my sweet fiance I'm going to hang a charm on my phone, warding away loafers with too much equipment and playtime." Someday brother, someday. Despite all that, it was still a pretty good time, and the footage turned out great even in the low-light environment.

I'm pretty sure my i5 can shoot better in low-light conditions.

My mouth. In great pain it was. Thank you silver nitrate.

So if you're like me, as soon as you start really digging deep into your vocal practice you wake up a week later with a canker the size of Lake Erie sitting right on one of those skin folds next to your uvula. The flap that ALL your food touches and all air grazes as it passes through.

Every

Single

Time.


It's the worst. And it gets bigger, your head feels like it's about to explode, you forget everything, you start walking into stuff. And before you know it, your whole mouth is consumed by the most annoying and least life-threatening virus of all time. What's worse, if you like all things citrus and sip any quantity of orange juice exceeding half a teaspoon, a nuclear war erupts inside your face, leaving no survivors in its wake. It's the most brutal apocalyptic experience your mouth can feel, aside from gingivitis, certain types of fungal infection, herpes, blisters, pizza burns, cavities, root canals, any trip to the dentist that doesn't have to do purely with aesthetics, and so on.

So maybe it's not the worst, but it's pretty far up there. Especially if you sing, or like to eat three times the quantity of food your recommended daily intake suggests. Every time I ate something I could hear Alec Guiness muttering,"It's as if millions of nerve endings cried out, and were suddenly silenced...I fear something terrible has...-" Then me interrupting with an inflectionless but strongly pronounced, "OW."

I was going to just wait it out like I always do and bask in the misery, but the planets aligned this week and I found myself sitting in a chair while an experienced individual basically burned a small crater in my mouth where the canker was and left me feeling remarkably relaxed, at ease, and without symptoms (six hours later, mind you. Five and a half for me, cause' genes. Thanks Mom&Dad <3). I was even more surprised at how little it hurt. I've felt some remarkably painful things in my life, but this was not one of them. It didn't feel hot really, or sharp like a needle. It just felt like a little more pressure on a painful spot for like, two seconds. That was it. Barely as bad as popping a pimple.

I'd post pictures, but since I know one of my readers is already feeling woozy because of the above description, we'll have to forgo that happy opportunity. Sorry!


Anyway, yeah. Have the worst canker in the world? BURN that sucker! With a licensed professional, y'know. See a doctor, it's easy. They all know how to do it.


Cheers!


-Merk

Music Video Preview

I'm trying to be a bit more expeditious these days, so here's a preview of what's to come. I hope you like the video!

P.S. Sorry about the sound quality, but blogger doesn't like videos bigger than 100mb. The final product will sound much better on YouTube.

Writing Screenplays is HARD.

I've been writing a screenplay for 'Dance That Noise Away'. Holy shlamolie. My appreciation for all things Spielberg has been augmented with each beat, scene, and act I've struggled to make in an entertaining, coherent way. It forced me to start perusing the internets for interviews and school sessions featuring analyses of cinematography's best directors and their methods. Writing for a camera and associated scenes is hard man! Learning the jargon and techniques isn't particularly difficult, just time consuming, that's not the hard part. The hard part is realizing how many awesome options there are for filming in a modern age and deciding from that myriad of options which one works best not only overall for each act, but  each scene. Filling every single beat in a way that feeds into one's overall vision of expression. And I mean, me writing this stuff and complaining about how hard it is is the gym equivalent of me going to the gym and complaining about how hard it is (haven't worked out lately), but it's still enough for me to recognize the hard work that does go into something masterful, like pretty much everything Steven Spielberg has touched. And Mad Max: Fury Road. =)

So yeah, three hours into writing and my head feels like it's going to explode, but it's a good kind of stress. I'm loving it.

Dance Music

For your listening pleasure, I give you 'Dance That Noise Away.' It was inspired by Christmas music, or rather my futile attempts at writing it. A few days ago I was trying to put together my first Christmas song, and I looked inwardly, delving deep for the welling of Christmas cheer that only we Mark Henderson's possess in such abundance so as to create the perfect, festive spirit in modern musical form. Well there was nothing in there.

So after beating myself over the head with my foot (twice) and angrily staring down my keyboard with all the wild west charisma I could muster, I gave up, ate some amazing homemade blueberry french toast crafted painstakingly by yours truly (carefully following all the instructions I read on allrecipes.com) and I spent twelve hours making this instead *behold the awesome*. It's been a lot of fun putting it together and seeing people bouncing up and down, back and forth when they hear it for the first time.

It's been so well-received by friends and family that I'm actually going to attempt a music video. It'll be my first try at anything like this so be prepared to plug your nose as the youtube reel starts playing a year down the road, but I expect it'll be a fun time regardless.

Cheers!


-Mark


P.S. I've updated the Henderson Roofing home for hosting music. I'll still keep posting on the other site, but soundcloud.com seems like the way to go these days and I like their user interface so.....sorry, Kiwi6. I'm not leaving you, but I have to be honest- this alliance of ours has been reduced to the sad state of dalliance. Still, you'll always have a soft spot in my heart for being my first. You never forget your first.

The Good, the Bad, and the Inept

PC Provo people. Remember that name. I say that with only your interests in mind (and maybe the tiniest bit because I need to redirect my anger in healthy ways)- if you ever own a PC and need to take it somewhere then please please do not take it there. My gaming computer has been sitting there since mid-may and my studio computer has been there for over a month now. They are awful, can't manage simple update reconciliation or keep promises, and worst of all- they can't do their jobs after having received degrees in their field of study.

Now, moving right along- as you might have guessed that leads to the bad news that my work is on hold until I go back and take my machines like a mildly annoyed mob boss -my cousin will provide the muscle I obviously lack- and hopefully we'll get those things fixed and hop back on track.


Now, good news: there's more pictures of fun concerts I've been doing with the Wild Apples! Perhaps more pertinently for this crowd- I've worked on my music in spite of the absence of the compy and have a total of four different songs I'm toying with. I've modified my approach to songwriting to where I'm going to be writing one per week and at the end of a lengthy composition period I'll keep and refine the good songs and toss away the dross. I imagine there'll be a hundred songs or so before I can find a few specks of gold floating to the top of my sand pile.

Winging it with the Wild Apples, and Other Stories

Hey there,

I've got some good news, bad news and fun news. So let's get to the fun stuff first and distress ourselves at the prospect of facing bad news in any order while trying to enjoy the present reading.

The lead singer of the Wild Apples (who you should follow here on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/WildApplesMusic) featured center stage is the creative power behind this group and all their songs, and he generously offered me an ongoing opportunity to travel and perform at various venues in the state. This is a picture of a performance we did at a tight little joint called Kilby Court June 10th. We're due for another more local performance in two and a half weeks at Muse Music. It's been good to delve back into performing again, so I guess this qualifies as both good and fun news. Maybe that'll help offset the bad news that's already causing cramps, headaches, and ulcers in all of us as the inevitable doom draws nearer.

Good news first- I've been working on a goal of writing one song per week, followed by a review of several dozen of these songs and selecting which to keep. So far I have two down for the past two weeks and I'm looking forward to writing many more. I've been expanding my listening material, working on joint projects with other musicians and have been more productive in the creativity department than I've been in years.

And for the bad news- my studio crashed, the computer won't boot and I've discovered a hardware problem that may take some time to be fixed before I can use it again for writing music, which especially a shame when you consider the timing- I had just received Finale 12 in the mail so I could write out pieces and share them with my musicians when the crash occurred and the blue screen of death reared its ugly head. That said, the computer is in the shop being repaired, I still plan to go forward with writing a new song per week regardless, and I'm still performing with the Wild Apples and working with other musicians on new material.

And there's my update for the day, hope you're all doing well!


-Mark

MDH Studios Location

Good thing I don't roll much when I sleep huh?

I wanted to show you where the place lives and how compact it is. The studio centers around the computer there in the middle. The audio interface is the box on the right of the digital clock with all the wires going in and out. Then there's the instruments, and the gloriously cheap sound system which is loud and strong enough for me to hear anywhere in the apartment and cost me less than fifty bucks. My favorite part is this whole set up fits inside a roughly 4x4 foot location which means I can take it anywhere except most public restroom stalls. If I wanted to, I could bring all of this to performances and set it up with relative ease. The computer is built to fit into racks which is the next investment on my shortlist of tools to acquire before concerts start in January. So for those of you in Utah, you can expect to see this with me wherever I go, especially since, realistically, the sound I want to produce in concerts will be limited to the computer's output and filtering.

All the minutiae is packed away, except a number of my music books, which are left of the sub woofer surrounded by reading material. It's a lot of fun working in this little space, and I like that I can just roll out of bed and have this sucker up and running in less than a minute.

Well there you go. This is the place, the new breeding ground for several people's ideas hopefully. We'll see what comes of it.


-Mark

Site Upgrade

I've started giving the place something of a makeover/overhaul. The store is now fully operational. You can buy songs for a dollar on third-party sites or buy it here for a quarter since I can set my own prices. Woot for that.

There's also a functioning audio player in the music section, and there will be for each new release. There's also a malfunctioning audio player at the bottom of your screen in case you hadn't noticed. It seems to stop playing forty seconds into whatever song so that's got some cleaning up to do, but otherwise this is how things are going to look for the next nine months with a few exceptions. 

The Webisodes tab has been removed. I'm guessing you've figured out what's going to replace it. 

If something goes awry, aside from the faulty mp3 player down there, let me know and I'll get to work on it. Enjoy the new digs, and I'll see what I can do about getting a new clip up in the next few months. 

-Mark

Update: Store completed ahead of schedule. It should work perfectly.

HELLO, Minions!

This is a test post, so you can just get a tiny taste of how incredible I am, instead being utterly overwhelmed by my amazing Marketyness.

:)

p.s. My sister wrote this.