It’s been a busy couple weeks, kiddos, a short period bifurcated by one of my favorite activities: being debilitatingly sick. Didn’t help this happened in the middle of yet another heat wave; I’ll never be sure where that intense fatigue actually came from. Also didn’t help this happened just before our Hotel Cafe show, but this is par for the course in the life of Henry Beguiristain.
All I know is that I could barely get out of bed, and I was going to die and—possibly—ruin the show.
(Update: the show was not ruined and I did not die. Or, at the very least, I am now undead.)
The show at Hotel Cafe went well, though. Loads of familiar faces. It was our first show since Jen and I did that run through the Central Coast. The butterflies in the stomach were pretty intense before we hit the stage—it’s one of those things I wish would and would not go away. But it was great.
Lisa and Cory from Dig the Kid were at the show. I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with these cats these past few months. We mostly talked about how we should really listen to the Tom Petty Live Anthology, because it’s stupid good.
(Update: I did, and it’s stupid good.)
It’s always great to catch Young Mister as well. Motherfucker writes some astoundingly good songs. He dropped a new EP called Soft Rock, which you should listen to. Don’t let the name throw you: the songs are largely aggressive war metal.
(Update: it is not aggressive war metal.)
C1 was in town, so we did the usual round of meetings and shooting the shit and looking at pictures of his and Lindsay’s 1-year-old.
(Update: Asher loves bananas, which is great, because bananas are great.)
Charles—a/k/a other Charles, a/k/a Charles Charles—was off in Boston for a week or so. Before he took off, we shot some 360 performances at the Bronson Caves for Acid VR. We were up pretty early to take advantage of the quietude. It’s quite lovely there in the morning when there’s no one around. It’s not hard to see why they filmed a million episodes of Star Trek out there.
Filming at the Bronson Caves for #AcidVR. - Spherical Image - RICOH THETA
A few days earlier, we returned to Hal Cragin’s studio to wrap up that tune we wrote with him. It’s been a great time working with him on this song.
The experience has kickstarted another writing kick for Jen and I. We’ve got a backlog of close to 30 songs, but now all we want to do is start these mothers from scratch at our songwriting sessions.
(Update: This is exactly how backlogs happen.)
That’s to say nothing of The Album. We’ve signed off on the sequence. Now it’s off to the mastering stage and Tom Rogers’ capable hands.
And then… Phase 3… profit?
We managed to catch a couple of cool shows in the past few weeks… por ejemplo:
We were invited this past Saturday to a Halloween thing, along with Danny, Jilly, and (special guest!) Jane Gagnon. Here’s the deal with me and everyone’s favorite dark holiday:
I do not enjoy dressing up for Halloween.
I do not like it in a house, I do not like it with a mouse. And hey, that’s not a judgement on anyone else’s lifestyle choices (at least not anymore… god bless you, Chuck Ferreira).
Point being, the subject of just how heavily Tanya leaned on us to arrive in some kind of costume is up for debate. But we’re in a new city, and we didn’t want to be spoilsports, so we dressed up… sort of. Jen and I donned Red Sox gear we accrued over the years and said we were Massholes. (Really, it was a couple of jerseys, my ball cap, and well-placed impressions. For good measure, I wore that “Boston Patriots” tee they gave us after we played at Gillette.)
The five of us met up a little earlier and decided on grabbing drinks at Birds before heading to the party. What I’d neglected to remember was that it was Game 4 of the World Series, and we were walking into a bar full of Dodgers fans, dolled up as Red Sox superfans. No one was shitty about it, mind you, but there were stares. To feel less weird, Danny and I spoke in Boston accents for half the night and… I dunno, elected the same mayor ad nauseam for no reason.
This did help us in sussing out that the hostess that night is from the South Shore. We are everywhere, I guess.
The party ended up being at some massive house in Studio City. It was fun, though after a couple hours the number of people was swelling and no one could be sure who invited whom. And while—technically—I was in costume, and—technically—there were folks who were literally half naked and—technically—nobody actually gave a shit, I still felt very underdressed for the whole thing.
Anyway, mark it: this is the last time I dress up as anything other than Cranky Old Man Bahgoogootimes.
Actual Halloween was low key. Jilly, Danny, and Kendra—the latest east coaster to become a newly minted Angeleno—came over to watch some scary movies. (Scary is a lose term… Maximum Overdrive was first at bat. It is very bad… though, the end card might be worth the experience. Poltergeist was fun!)
We also ate half a bag of candy.
Which more or less brings us up to speed since the last post.