Walking Dead Session #2: I Roll in on Meds.
Trembling resonance. Pixelated faces, and a numeric countdown on a flat screen. We are moving slowly, languishing in the growling beauty of dark wooden instruments. We are recording chamber orchestra for the second to last episode for season 1 of The Walking Dead in Studio B.
3 sets of spectacles, behind the console, reflecting little lights. The guys mimic the sound of the strings tuning up, 3 grown men making cat sounds.
Bear doesn’t know I’m here yet. Last he heard, I was rolled up in my freshman USC-issue blanket with a fever, popping serious doses of antibiotics and herbs and riding the snake...
But I actually made it, I walked in at 7:30pm on the dot (session start time). Honestly, I’m not sure I’m here yet – like I said I’m on many millions of milligrams of antibiotics, and my brain has become marshmallow fluff. I feel like you do when you’re drunk, definitely drunk, but you still have the control to pass for not-drunk, if people don’t ask you too many questions. You know, you’re not tipsy drunk, but you feel the need to interject “response syllables” every few words when someone’s talking at you – sounds like: “yeah” and “uh-huh” and “ah”, to demonstrate that you are totally following the conversation – that you are not just interjecting sound into the spaces when they pause.
I felt this way just now talking to a very lovely lady who was here from MTV to interview Bear. She is a Battlestar fan, and quite genuinely excited for The Walking Dead, and even seemed interested when we talked about my new album plans. I wanted to let her know that I was enjoying the conversation, but one of us was under water, and it wasn’t her. I made that mistake, you know, the one where you tell somebody that something is wrong with you when they really wouldn’t have known otherwise? That one.
I said, “Sorry if I’m a little out of it, I’m on antibiotics and they really mess with me, so, yeah…”
“Oh, no worries.”
She was very cool about it, but she also did that backwards shift people do when they’ve been grossed out, but they don’t want to seem rude. The “I’m-going-to-scoot-away-but-make-a-concerned-face-so-you-know-that-I-do-care-but-don’t-want-to-get-whatever-you-have” maneuver. She did it well. I was not offended.
So I’m getting up now to find some tea, and I hope the world will speed up if I begin to move more. I’m walking down the hall with an artificial bounce, and double-checking doorways to make sure I don’t fall into them. Today my life has been a dorm party.
Now the session is coming to a close, I’ve been through 3 cups of tea, and feel a little bit sharper. There is a lava lamp to my left, it’s been here for a while, it watches all the sessions, has a lot of time to think.
Sometimes it talks to itself, and if you listen closely you can hear it. I’ve included a depiction of this below. (click sketch to embiggen)
As of the time I'm writing this post, I haven’t seen The Walking Dead yet, but I am dying to (pun intended). I’m trying not to watch the spoilers on the screen. Bear told me I didn’t have to come today because it was “mostly whole notes”, in other words, the cues today were mostly dramatic, not action. As if I’m with him for the 16th notes. Today’s music is the sort that can grind and drag the gristle out of black motor oil, streaking chemical rainbows in its wake. It’s thick and strained, full of luscious dread. The drama is epic and subtle – but if you don’t do subtle, don’t worry. We’ve got zombies.