Tonysounds

Congratulations on using "Meatbolic" and "cerebral" in the same post.

Hammond Organ: 23 seconds.

ANd some of the Meters blood obviously!

+1 on Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings, Galactic and Roots. Check out Alice Russell: [video:youtube] Erykah Badu: [video:youtube] Brand New Heavies: [video:youtube] Derek Trucks: [video:youtube]

Funny...that's not what she said.

Prof is right. And thank you Meisenhower!

Any chance you could provide a link, or a file with those 8 seperate parts? I'd love to hear it broken down.

Hey, I think I have a solution for you! Make your *bottom* keyboard a Nord Stage... a 76 or an 88. Make your top keyboard a Nord Wave. Set your Stage so that its organ is triggered from the Wave rather than from its internal keyboard. I think this gives you everything you asked for, except that the organ keyboard is limited to 49 keys instead of 61, which is probably pretty workable especially since the Stage also can function as a second organ manual. All problems solved. Real synth controls (better than on the Stage itself!), low E for bass, plenty of split capability, weighted keys for piano and unweighted for organ+synth, plus the flash memory for sample libraries. And surprisingly little redundancy. The only overlap is that both boards have synths. But that can actually be useful. It means a synth is still available to you even when you're using the Wave for its samples, for example. YUCK. Have you ever played a Nord Wave? Not enough keys for organ work, and the keyboard on it is terrible for just about everything. I love the capability of the machine, just dont love its keyboard.

What a horrible thing to happen! I'm glad there were others who saw or at least were there to help you. Take extra care of yourself these next few days, and get plenty of rest. Glad again that you're okay.

I think those are tone and drive controls for the Trek percussion and Trek preamp units.

I had an M3 in high school, plugged into a Phase 100 (its how Tony Banks did it! I thought that was THE way!). Had it for a few years and sold it in 81. Bought a cut down C3 in 90 with a 910 leslie. The butcher who chopped this didnt deal with the expression circuit correctly and gave me a DeArmond volume pedal; unfortunately that rig had more buzz than a beehive. And its chop consisted of cutting of the side panels/legs. It was a monstrosity, which I sold after 2 years of trying to get this ass to finish the job. In 98, I bought a chop from Numerous Complaints in Atlanta: it allegedly was a 63 B3 with a Trek II preamp installed, and later I had a cycle regulator installed to keep it in tune after having a festival generator transpose it down a half step. It sat on a double braced X stand (dont hate me Moe, it was the only thing strong enough!), but I draped red velvet fabric around it so no one could see the ironing board. I ran that into my Bulldog custom 122 leslie eventually with a Speakeasy Vintage preamp with a Howler and Barker circuit, which greatly improved on tone of the Trek. In 2001, I bought another chop from Hammondstore.com in PA, a 64 A100 put into one of their chassis, lock stock and barrel. I had a cycle regulator installed on it as well. Other than that, it was bone stock, sounded gorgeous, retained the shape, had an attractive stand it attached to, and my tech loved it as it was very easy to work on, with a lot of room inside (unlike my Numerous Complaints chop, which was crammed into a box that was too small to work on; I periodically had to go in and resolder some drawbar wires that would come undone.I got pretty good at it, and carried a solder gun to all gigs). Eventually the hassles of constantly moving those organs got the better of me, and I sold them after my rental business dried up 4 years ago (during the front end of the recession). Loved the sound, hated the work. Found clones with a leslie were just as satisfying 92% of the time. Now, I dont even own a leslie anymore, sold my last one earlier this year. Im getting older/lazier/more realistic. Plus B4 and the Electro 3 really do sound great and pretty much negate the idiot soundguy factor that always put my Hammonds at risk in the mix.

Back when I was in my Latin Rock band, we played a maximum security facility. We were a multi-racial band, with me being the only white boy. In addition to having to have very legal and up-to-date identification (turned out to be a little problem there as one of our members, who had been living here since he was a toddler, had never gone through the legalization process), we had to undergo a pretty thorough security check: bomb inspection, dog sniffers (and since I was driving the band and our gear in my van, I forbid any smoking of any kind), and then item by item inspection of every piece of equipment. Our black guitarist happened to be one of those guys who performed without a shirt, regardless of the weather. (We used to call him Bumpy as he worked out very religiously.) He thought chicks dug it. Well after we are through with all security checks and have our gear set up (we didnt get stage hands or inmate help), were told to stay in the theatre, and to not venture off ANYWHERE (for obviousl reasons). Our first set, we performed for the male population. Now, this was really a killer band. Id say it if I wasnt in the band, and Id go see it. But there were about 650 very big stone faced guys sitting there in jeans and wifebeaters, with their not inconsiderable arms folded over their chests. No reaction. I looked at our guitarist, and I realized that not only was he WEARING A SHIRT!, but that he looked positively puny next to the yard dogs. And his normally cocky, extroverted alpha male persona was dialed WAY DOWN! First song over, I whisper-yelled across the stage Hey Bumpy, you feelin okay? We all cracked up laughing. Next song, still no reaction from the crowd. Except one. He apparently was the Big Dog. He was wearing a wool skull cap and sunglasses. He uncrossed his arms for a moment, reached into his shirt and pulled out.a Tootsie Pop. It was like the music faded into the background and a spotlight had tuned out the rest of the audience and was shining on just this one inmate, looking just like Dee-Bo from Friday, just staring at us, jaws working that Tootsie Pop. Wed finish songs and it would just be quiet, or else other inmates talking and laughing like we were even there (or more likely couldnt even hear them). But it turned out they liked us. Once we were done playing, the yard dogs hung out and told us about their prison band, about how they got screwed just cuz they ended up stabbing their woman when they found her in bed with someone else, or how theyre getting out (or not getting out) soon. Then we did a set for a female population they brought from another facility. Needless to say, Bumpys shirt disappeared, the women were VERY enthusiastic, and basically all 7 of us had more new penpals than we knew what to do with. The departing security scan was much less vigorous than the entrance, but thorough nonetheless. That was definitely a hilarious gig.half of it anyway!

The worst regular load in ever:Frankies Blue Room in Naperville, IL; you had to drive into an alley only 1/4 block long (one way), carry gear up 3 flights of metal fire escape. My rig: cut down Hammond Chopper, 122 leslie, Roland A90 keyboard, ridiculously heavy 12 space Mesa Boogie Rack holding power amp and more, 3way 15" speaker cabinet, and case full of pedals and cables. TERRIBLE. Worst isolated load in was when we were on an AFE tour and had a stop in Guam. They last-minute'd us into this stop, so we were on a plane for 9 hours, we get off the plane at 8pm, get all our gear (and PA) off the pallets and into a moving truck, and this absolutely TERRIBLE Point of Contact had made NO accommodations for us: not dinner, not a snack, not a hot shower, nothing, just "get your gear, we'll take it to the Kamikaze Klub, you'll set up, you'll start playing at 10, go to about 2am, tear it down, and by then it will be about 3am, and we'll pick you up at 4am and get you to the plane." We thought she was kidding. She Was Not. While everyone else just sat there in stunned silence in the back of this dark truck, I decided I would take the reins for a while. "Um, excuse me ma'am, we haven't had anything to eat in about 10 hours, we're exhausted. You mean to tell me you brought us way the f@ck out to Guam and didn't even expect to feed us? Is this your FIRST rodeo?" She apologized, drove us to the open McDonald's drive in, told us we can order anything we want, but they only take American money. (Meaning, we better have some.) We order, and of course pay for our food. She delivers us to said "Klub Kamikaze", and there is no help for us there. We're plenty exhausted, there's about 3 people in this club, they're listening to godawful eurodisco at maximum f'n volume. We tell her we're only going to need the acoustic guitars, and she proceeds to tell us she thought we were a rock band. I proceed to tell her we thought we were going to be met by someone who knew what the f'k she was doing, like on all the other bases, and not landing at Guantanamo Bay and being forced into slave labor without so much a courtesy as a burger and a beer. We proceed to empty the truck and bring into said horror bar, set it up, play the fastest set we can, tear it down, and have it waiting for her stupid @ss. She shows up 40 minutes late because she was sleeping (lucky her) and had to be roused, and then tells us we have 3 hours now until the plane, and drives us to our barracks. And then has the unmitigated gall to tell us "Do NOT leave your barracks until I come pick you up." Needless to say, those of us of that particular strain that tends to not like to be told what to do decide that not only are we not going to stay in our barracks, but we are going off-base to explore all the seediness and nightlife that Guam has to offer. And we did. When we hit checkpoint Charlie, we give Margaret Cho's (not her real name, but she bore a remarkable likeness to same) name as our 'authorization to leave camp', and proceed to disappear for about 5 hours into daylight. Wouldn't you know it, instead of us making her late, she was sleeping again and the guys were outside with their bags packed (not that they had time to unpack) waiting for it/her. She was not happy to smell two quite drunken musicians on her watch, and was even less happy to watch us intentionally bang every single piece of equipment into every wall possible between the truck, through the "airport" office, through security, and through the loading dock. I was never so happy to have flight cases for my gear as that particular trip when I banged a nice 99lb Roland XV88 in a flight case into every door jam, corner wall and desk I could. After our report back to AFE we heard Cho was fired. We played a prison once, and that had a very interesting security check, but I think I;ve stolen enough bandwidth already.

I wouldn't lose sleep over it, and I wouldn't hold a grudge against them. Just ask: "hey, do you remember when I auditioned for your gig? I'd like to know why so I can be better prepared for other auditions I go for." Treat it like any job interview. They don't all call back to say "sorry, you didn't get the job." In fact, most don't. But the ones that do, I'd always ask "was there something I was missing, or that I mishandled during the interview?" T

#1- You guys were really good; I could feel EVERY bass note you played between my legs. I was listening to everything you did. Whadya doing after you load your equipment? (She blonde, me, the bass player that nite. Happy ending? Being a broke musician with no money for a hotel room, took her to my office, or more precisely, to my boss' desk. Idiot had a bowling pin on his desk, and now I can't see a bowling pin without cracking up.) #2- After finishing an encore, and breaking down and packing the gear, a very overserved yuppie walks up and says "$50 if you do two more songs." I apologize, and gesture to all the equipment in the cases, and suggest that maybe his timing was a little off. "Snort, bunch a a-holes!"