Dreams and drums.

I had a dream last night that my noise path led me back to Richmond, Va. In real life, there was no sound related reason for me to be there. I was seeking the guitarist (who in real life resides in Vermont.) In my dream I did not find him. I got distracted. But who I encountered in RVA was my friend, a bassist, who no longer plays due to a severed tendon in his hand.

I am seeking many people from my past and present, they just do not know it. Yet.

Currently, I have my eye on a very specific drummer with a unique skill set. In this project, it is important to lay down the percussion first- starting with the most complex piece and filling in the gaps with less complex parts. I am of the mindset that the rhythm section is the backbone. The best bands have a strong percussion and bass. These components are irreplaceable. Also, by laying out the drums first, it gives everyone a "beat" with which to sync their parts. (Consequently, I get along best with drummers and bassists, specifically bassists. Probably because in band situation, the rhythm section are generally the ones who seem to understand that the piece is not about their cock-rock solo. There has only been one guitarist ever with whom I have truly gotten along-- he thought like a bassist, choosing song form over vanity.)

Since the drummer and I were never more than acquaintances; I was afraid he would not know who I was outside of the context of my significant other. I am fairly reserved and tend to keep to myself. I don't go to bars and only seem to leave my house now when I have art modeling gigs (ie: work.) Due to this, I do not think people know who I am, regardless if I know who they are. Or that I am nameless, the designation "girlfriend of . . ." Which makes it difficult to ask some one if they would like to work with you on a project because they don't have an understanding of who you are or what you do. But thankfully, on my most recent visit to the house he shares with several others, he did.

Asking is another issue. How and when. I have (and always did have) an open invitation to their house. that being said, I am not one to drop by uninvited. Perhaps it is old-school manners drilled into me by my mother, but I feel intrusive entering another's space without specific permission. But it has to start somewhere, so it will have to start here. Unfortunately, I am currently stuck in NYC for two weeks. As much as I love this city, there is some place else I would rather be.

Dreams and drums.