We here at The Poundry would like to apologize to the families of those who decided to hold their breath until another article was posted on our blog. We appreciate their dedication and commitment, and we ache with the news of their passing. They would have been formidable warriors in the inevitable takeover of the world The Poundry has been planning for years. The coming World Poundering will commence once we have found suitable replacements for those brave men and women who gave everything while awaiting further instruction. Their presence will be missed, and as a show of respect we ask that all of us observe a moment of silence that should last at least 1.3 seconds, but no more than 1.7 seconds as a reminder that life goes on, at least for the rest of us. The fallen will observe a moment of silence that will last for all eternity and that will give me the strength to carry on for the rest of us who seek to change the world through the power of twisted metal. Rest in peace, fellow Pounderers.
Jul 12, 2015
One of rock's legends passed away last month when Chris Squire of the band 'Yes' lost his battle with leukemia. Monica and I both listened to Yes throughout the weekend to celebrate the contribution the band made to rock, specifically prog rock, and as their long, dramatic and very experimental songs filled our home I was reminded of why Chris Squire was my first favorite bass player. His bass sound was the first truly thunderous bass sound I was ever exposed to and without realizing it at the time, he set the parameters for what I seek in bass players. Chris Squire made the band surprisingly heavy at times but he also provided a smooth sense of melody and whimsy when it was required. It may be that in the very same way I 'rediscovered' The Beatles one night around the age of thirty, I just this weekend rediscovered the man who should sit atop my list of favorite bass players.
Jul 1, 2015
May 30, 2015
Well, I suppose that many of you may believe by now that I really have been abducted by aliens trying to unlock the mysteries of metal from my fertile mind. A long spate of no newsworthy events has led to almost no posts whatsoever for the year thusfar. Not exactly how I intended things but as I mentioned before, spring's thaw has brought both bands out of their respective caves. Right now things seem to be moving along in an inspiring way. Hopefully that will result in some vicious riffage ( not quite as menacing as vicious ruffage, but something that warrants attention nonetheless ) and both Confessor and Loincloth will capitalize on some forward momentum. It's difficult enough to predict how long it might take four or five adults to create something when everyone involved is completely engaged, but it's much more difficult to try and predict how long something might take when schedules keep people away from the process. All of these setbacks are part of the band experience. You see, not everything is sex and drugs, drugs and sex. The people who live that life probably don't have much free time time to blog about things.
Apr 18, 2015
Here at The Poundry we have spent a fair amount of time and energy being critical of the way vocalists affect music. Not all music is interesting enough to carry its own weight without a singer guiding you through the journey. Actually, most of what pop culture cranks out is intentionally vapid and pointless and requires a 'face' to make it stand out from everything else in the cesspool of unimaginative offerings. That's just marketing for money. Music written with big paychecks in mind will always find fans. I don't have a problem with get rich quick schemes, generally speaking, if there are ways to avoid them. Until government forces us to listen to the bands that can afford to buy lobbyists there is still a way out for people who want the real thing. As a music and art snob myself, I only wish that more emphasis was put on people finding out how creative they really could be were they not so attracted to dollar signs. Music is a business though, so it will never be totally pure. And let's be honest... it's not as if everyone can be follow their vision to a pot of gold. I can't walk out of my front door and expect food to fall into my mouth simply because I play in two bands that a handful of people find curious. But hey, if any of you want to find a perch in the trees outside our lovely home and try to toss a meal at me I am not too proud to gobble it up! For what it's worth I'm vegetarian and prefer Mexican and Indian food. When huevos rancheros and samosas start falling from the sky the moment I step out of the house I'll know I've finally made it in life.
Apr 2, 2015
Well, well, well... I was abducted by aliens for roughly three months but I have returned, happy to see that planet Earth remains intact despite my abductors' claims of total annihilation. Granted there were plenty of people and institutions whose utter decimation I was indifferent to even in my saintliest moments, but all in all I am happy to see that the world remains mostly unchanged in the three months since my last post. Monica is still gorgeous and loves me, the dogs are still the sweetest critters on earth and the cats still vomit and pee on everything. Yep, life shuffles along as it always has. Good, I wasn't in any mood for upheaval anyway.
Dec 31, 2014
Here we are at the end of another year, looking back at all of the things that happened to us, and ahead to all of the things we want to happen next year. All in all 2014 was pretty good to me and Monica. We have our health and we have each other. The older I get, the more I realize those are the two most important things to me. Everything else is just fluff. Fun fluff, but still just that... fluff. I will be remembered for the way I play drums by those who don't know me. Let's call that "fluff with flair". Hopefully those who do know me will miss me for other reasons after I'm gone. Maybe I'll be the one to outlive everyone I know, in which case I'll spend a lot of time in my twilight years thinking about all of the fluff while I go mad in my old age. I remember when forty seven seemed like old age to me, so maybe I'm already mad. Will my mid-life crisis hit me next year? Will Monica wake up one day to a 1972 Corvette Stingray in the driveway with a college freshman waiting for me in the passenger seat? Nah, I don't have the time, money, energy or interest for any of that. Great, we have proved that I'm not mad. Not yet, anyway. Hmm... what color would the Corvette be?