So... we managed to scrape together the dough to book a few hours of studio time at RubberBiscuit on Thursday night. I got there and helped the AE get things set up, and Blake showed up a bit later. We were going to be working on a Willie Dixon cover, and were going to try a vintage-vibe approach to the tune -- going for a mono recording with only a single omni mic. This, of course, meant that there was little room for error.
But, er, Houston... we've got a problem here. It's Blake's pants. He's shown up wearing some sort of nylon-esq running suit kinda loose synthetic thingys. And they go "whif whify whiffy whif" every time he moves. And Blake moves a lot when he sings or plays.
Uh... what to do?
The RubberBiscuit dudes have spare strings... they have lots of mics. But they don't, uh, keep extra PANTS around.
We don't exactly get to record as often as we would like, so this calls for extreme measures.
Blake took off his pants.
Now... I know Blake pretty well, but this brought, shall we say, a degree of intimacy to our relationship that had not previously existed. Thankfully, he wasn't going commando this evening. In fact, he and I were wearing near-identical boxer briefs. It's just that I still had my pants on.
Despite Blake's best efforts, we didn't manage a keeper track that evening. Though we may have gotten some good "studio outakes."
And, Ladies, remember... it's 46 LONNNNG.
And Blake's the little one.