I can’t believe we’ve already been here two weeks. To be honest, it frightens me. I’m not ready to go back, at all. We’ve still got eight days at the ranch though, eight days that are rapidly filling up with plans for activities we haven’t been able to do due to recording obligations. Things are easing up now though, and this week we’ll have time for the kind of excursions we’ve been longing for since we got here. Let’s chat about the last week though.
Much like last week, the days rolled on, one into the next, their beginnings and ends blurred by heat and a Groundhog Day-esque routine. Every day is the same, more or less, which results in a certain level of comfort. We’ve nothing to concentrate on but the task at hand. Shopping, cooking, working, recording. That’s all that needs to be done, and that’s pretty much all we do, besides shooting.
I break the routine when I can. I’ve found two great spots within walking distance of the ranch. A vegan health shop that serves incredible fresh juice, and food that looks way too healthy for me to try. It’s staffed by young, friendly girls that look completely out of place in this town. The other is a diner run by Sue, who has looked after us up until now – even treating us to a classic ‘Merican home cooked breakfast on Tuesday. It serves real American food, prepared in a way we’re accustom to – with fresh ingredients, and, at the very least, a acknowledgment of healthier cooking practices.
The recording process seems to have reached its first bottleneck. The tracks have all been laid down, and the final ones decided on. There’s a lot of listening now. A lot of repetition. Fixing of small problems, in isolation. Which means more time fixated on singular challenges, keeping all involved close to the issue at hand. The challenges of the Creative Process, which raise their ugly heads during any creative challenge, have arrived.
There’ve been no major blowouts, or arguments, but as the week progressed a fight seemed more and more likely. The band dynamics are now clear to me (I hadn’t met these dudes until a few weeks ago), and it’s been interesting watching them play out. @motioncityfilms and I, wearing our Content Creation hats, are in a weird spot. Fights during recording makes for a good story, but the album still needs to be made, and it needs to be good. These dudes are recording their first album, at great expense, with a hero of theirs – we want it to work, probably as much as the band does. Perhaps for other reasons.
The weekend eventually arrived, and although the days of the week mean little to us here, there is still a strong emotional association with words like ‘Friday’ and ‘weekend’. Emotions that lead us, and most others, toward drink, music, and general debauchery. Especially when a release is needed, and we all needed one. We walked into town, or rather onto the main street of Joshua Tree, and gave the saloon of the same name another chance.
It was full this time. Friday is karaoke night, and the townsfolk were all over it. From individual attempts at Bowie songs, to groups of people requesting dance songs – dropping the mics, and thrusting, shuffling, and pulsating their way around the stage until their turn was up.
We made ourselves known pretty quickly, through dudes we’d met the week before, and being from another country. It’s all it really takes here. By the time the saloon closed we’d found our after party, just two blocks down the same road. We stopped off at a garage on the way, picked up a case of cheap Mexican beer, and joined in on a little bit of the American dream.
The after party was at an old gas station which was now a repair centre for old VWs. It was run by two very large dudes in their 40s, both ex surfers, and judging by their aged tattoos, ex navy. The shop could have been on Venice beach. Vintage surfboards hung from the ceiling. Ancient pinball machines made familiar sounds in the corner. A designer table hosted the Mac that played tunes I can’t remember.
We drank, smoked and talked shit with marines, artists, musicians, gays, lesbians, and that weird cross between punk and West Coast hipster you see a lot here, until who knows when. For a stretch of its size, the Yucca Valley/Joshua Tree late night contingent is impressive in size and variety. Whatever idea you have of the people here, toss it. Every group, subculture, or demographic is represented here, in force, and I love it.
Saturday was spent recovering while the band practiced for their first ‘Merican gig at Pappy & Harriet’s – the last functioning establishment of a long dead dream. Pappy’s is located in Pioneer Town. A town built in the 40s by Roy Rogers and two other partners, Pioneer Town was supposed to function as a living town, and a complete set for Western Movies. Since the bowling alley closed a few years ago, Pappy’s has been the sole survivor of Pioneer Town – serving real American food and live music five nights a week.
Friday may have been a much needed release for the band, but Saturday was exactly what the doctor ordered. Having not known the guys before this, and having observed them, whether I wanted to or not, from a few feet away over the last two weeks, I saw a change in them that was almost magnificent, as soon as they took the stage. The album, studio issues, band issues, everything seemed forgotten for the entire duration of their allotted stage time at Pappy & Harriet’s.
The saloon wasn’t as busy as we’d all hoped, something that hasn’t been discussed since, but what I saw was three guys come alive, doing exactly what they loved. I felt a different connection to them. A connection that, if Kim (@motioncityfilms) and I do our jobs correctly, you will feel. Spending this much time with a band in studio, at their most venerable, is like seeing your girlfriends armpits just before they get waxed, or a skid-mark you know you didn’t leave. It’s real, and to see them forget all the challenges they’ve been working through, and lose themselves on stage, was one of the most rewarding moments of this trip.
Nash
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