Meeting Tom Waits: An original screenplay by Ian Miller. Based on a true story.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Ian: Big ol' Tom Waits fan.
Tracy: Ian's lovely life partner.
Tom Waits He's Tom Fucking Waits. He needs no introduction.
FADE IN
INT: THEATER — NIGHT.
WIDE: The characters are standing in a single line in front of two ticket windows. PULL IN to focus on TRACY.
TRACY'S POV — She sees a haggard but handsome man (Tom Waits) and a female companion near the head of the ticket line, just a few people ahead of her and IAN. We notice the similarity in the mode of dress between IAN and TOM: Snug denim jackets, jeans, workboots.
TRACY (to Ian)
That's Tom Waits.
IAN
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
IAN'S POV — Obviously, IAN thinks this is a gag. We get the feeling that this is a game the couple often plays; pointing out average folks and comparing them to celebrities. We watch it slowly dawn on him that this is no game. His wife is right. It really is Tom Waits.
IAN
Holy shit, that's Tom fucking Waits!!!
IAN is struck dumb. We watch him struggle; his geeky fanboy side against his urge to maintain his decorum. His decision is made for him when, by sheer chance, the two lines diverge and he ends up directly behind TOM in line.
IAN (to TOM, embarrassed, almost inaudible)
Do you mind if I just bask in your aura?
TOM WAITS
Wazzat, man?
Waits' celebrated speaking voice is everything we hope it would be. It sounds like he's been gargling hot asphalt with a broken glass chaser, but it's somehow kind — careworn, worldweary — at the same time.
IAN (a little louder this time)
I asked if I could just bask in your aura. I'm a huge fan. Woyzeck ...
IAN trails off. He's overcome.
TOM WAITS (chuckles)
Aww, thanks man. All right.
TOM smiles, collents his tickets, nods, and walks off, into the theater.
(LOW ANGLE, IAN'S FACE) — We watch a smile slowly spread across Ian's face. It gets wider and wider, until it seems like it might threaten the structural integrity of his face. Later he may regret the fact that he didn't get his picture taken with his hero, or get his autograph, or even shake his hand. But right now, just being acknowledged by him, and hearing that inimitable, otherworldly voice is enough.
Last chance for romance!
OK, not really, but this is the last The Hills Have Eyes song to be posted. It's called "Comstock," and it rocks hard. Check it out!
Oh, and by the by, if you live in the greater San Francisco Bay Area, you are cordially invited to come to our first show ever. Yep, we're opening for Frank Jordan and Pocket for Corduroy at the Capitol Garage on Friday, December 28th. So come on out! I'll even put you on the guest list. Swear ... ßßß
Three down, one to go.
Have I mentioned that I play bass and sing in a band called The Hills Have Eyes? Well, it don't know how it could have slipped my mind, but there you have it. In fact, we just finished some demo's this past weekend. No lie! Want to hear what is sounds like? Well, don't delay! Click the link below.
It's all part of my rock 'n' roll fantasy.
So we went to the amazing (International) Noise Conspiracy, Rival Schools, The Hives, and One Time Angels show at the Great American the other night. Here are some thoughts:
Four days in pitchers.
Here's my four days in the studio, captured with and conveyed through the miracle of digital photography. Click on the li'l pic for a big pic. It'll open in a new winda. Rock on.
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Quick and Dirty
Let's just go and get this out of the way. Below is a link to "Goddamn Geography," a song written and performed by yours truly.
I will write some more junk later. But that's all for now. Maintain radio silence. Out.
The Grand (Or Not So Grand) Unveiling
The Hills Have Eyes completed their demos last night/this morning at around 2AM. I cannot vouch at all for the sound quality of anything mixed after 11PM last night, because my ears were freaking shot. But here are some of the things I learned in my four days at Nu-Tone Recording:
So, without further ado, here's the track I promised. It's a little number we like to call "Sensitive Exile." Hope you dig it.
All systems go?
Pleurisy vanquished. Workout regime resumed. Recording almost completed. Life returning to normal? Perhaps.
Recording went pretty well, considering. The recording itself is actually done; all that remains is the mixing and the addition of various studio trickery. The song I sing even came out not entirely terrible. I listened to lots of Murder City Devils for inspiration/stealing Spencer's amazing vocalizing (to the extent that my far-inferior voice is capable of imitating him). Starting tomorrow, I will post an mp3 a day for the rest of the week. Four songs, four days; I think that will work out rather well.
Being ensconced in a recording studio in the middle of lovely Pittsburg, California doesn't afford one much opportunity to come up with blawgworthy life-type experience. We did get out Saturday night to see Fat Girl, though, which was pretty incredible. If you live in a major metro and have access to the type of theater that routinely shows postfeminist French films, you should definitely check it out.
But the balance of the week is chock-full of life experience that should yield all manner of blawg fodder: tonight is mixdown, tomorrow night is what could possibly be the
best bill in recent memory, Wednesday is rehearsal with the new as-yet unnamed band, I just picked up tickets to see Michael Chabon interview Ricky Jay on Thursday, two shows on Friday (Dan Bern @ Slim's, and Converge/Botch/et al. @ the Pound), then ODC's Velveteen Rabbit and the Thrasher Skater of the Year thing on Saturday.
If all that activity doesn't cause a relapse of one or more of my recent illnesses, I don't know what will. Wish me luck. Check back tomorrow for the world premiere of music by The Hills Have Eyes. Over and out. ßßß
Don't miss last week's brilliant insight.
