Easton, MD -- Front porch of producer John Alagia's house on the Chesapeake Bay.
I've just woken up from another end of the world dream where Bon Jovi was an alien planting explosive devices in cupboards that eventually cause massive flooding when I decide I need to do a morning coffee run (ok, I need cigarettes) so I grab my keys and head to town. E-Rob (Eric Robinson), our engineer, is just going to bed after working late on a vox comp for 'You Won't Let Me' and it occurs to me how I've truly lucked out with the people involved in "Chesapeake."
I am in the studio. And when I say studio, I mean Alagia's house that we've spent weeks converting into a studio. We shipped gear, borrowed microphones, amps, guitars, and a grand piano that's living in his bedroom (because that's where we get the best sound). We housed vox mics in his shower for some natural reverb and of course the porch where I write this -- a past scene of pre production jams complete with drums made out of cardboard beer cases and recycling bins -- cellos stuck in wads of duck tape so as not to slip on the floor, a wurly set up by the table of receipts I'm calling 'my office' etc.
I packed my car what seems like months ago chock full of air mattresses, giant breakfast skillets, keyboards, snow boots (unusable) and of course my diva tent -- an 8 person banana yellow monstrosity that I've been sleeping in for some time now to carve out a little private space for moi as well as leave room for the house full of amazing musicians that have come to play. There have been rounds of plumbers and air conditioner technicians, trips to Target for the inflatable pool that has since garnered a crop circle impression on the lawn for a mere $79.95, and thank you dad for the grill donation -- let there be burgers.
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