So there I was sitting in the so-called command center (studio) reading blogs and all of a sudden I heard a tinny ping coming from right behind me. Often when I hear interesting “field rhythms” I try to figure out what the mechanics are all about. This time, I just swiveled and saw drops of water falling from a join in the ceiling tile right into the nickel-plated tuning pan of one of my Fender pedal steel guitars.
Oh shit, Sandy had struck the ceiling! I moved the guitar into the dining room, grabbed a waste basket, and then began a fairly methodical rescue operation. Within two hours three more leaks appeared. By that time I had determined a backed up gutter and wind-driven rain had combined to send water into the space between joists and there the water had found egress right over two pedal steel guitars.
Not knowing at the time how the minor leaks –in the scheme of Sandy’s rain of terror elsewhere–might proliferate, I disconnected the gear and the keyboards and synths the desk, and the other interwoven and/or entangled bits of the audio studio, and started the migration to the guest bedroom.
Shades of the leaking water tank from August, a leak that compelled me to box and move 15,000 LPs and compact discs. Hey, it all advances the move to the new house sometime in early December.
The practical regimens of my creative life have been so disrupted, now, for so long, that old ambitions seem to me to be like flashbacks of long past hallucinations. Yet, somehow, I’ve managed to store away all sorts of sound designs quickly rendered as the raw goods of late night and very early morning iPad experimentation. And, to test out the now reconstituted temporary digs, I set down some slow lap steel just the other day.