epiphany: around midnight last night, fista and I were at our collective wit's end as to how to proceed with the recording of the gorgeous song. we weren't getting a good guitar sound with the fourtrack- tried going direct, then thru and amp, then miked the amp, then miiked the guitar itself, but nothing was satisfactory. then I had a little talk with invention. and while I was distracting him, old fista snuck around back and had sex with invention's mother. I'm talking about necessity. think of the children. think of the poets wailing in the streets if the new johny cassettes song doesn't pierce their ears with safetypins sometime soon. desperate times. the essence of all that is good, all that is cassettes records rises to the surface... and Mr. Lomax is talkin' bout deadlines...
location: the gentlemen's bathroom
technology: the human voice, the acoustical guitar, and the groovebox run through the peavey TNT 150 bass amp, all recorded by the RadioShack CTR-120 AC/battery Cassette Recorder.
method: 1) mounted the recorder to the shower door courtesy of the towel rod. 2) tucked the bass amp under the sink. 3) ran a cable out to the groovebox in the hall. 4) positioned myself, guitar in hand, on the commode. 5) positioned fista by the door, in the corner. 6) tuned on the bass amp. 7) pressed [record] on the silver tape recorder. 8) pressed [play] on the groovebox. 9) strummed. 10) sang. 11) fista sang some too.
results: astounding. The drum track from the groover gives something of an impression of casio-core, the guitar tone is light without being tinny, the vocals are clear (I gather the CTR-120 was developed chiefly to record the human voice), and has the cumulative feel of a spontaneous, heartfelt performance. which is what cassettes records is all about. Now, we may do a few more takes, in order that I might hit some of the notes better, but the overall sound, indeed the sound of young america, has been hinted at, and I couldn't be prouder. props to fisticuffs for taking part.