Hello all, we have a bit of a different take on our liner notes. There’s no download, we figured we’d put them here! This is a bit under construction, and will have all of them here shortly.
Erin –
Honestly when it comes to liner notes I have trouble knowing what to say. Words have gotten easier, working with mastersmiths of the medium like Paul and Brian, but it’s still a struggle a lot of the time to get my point across. That being said, we’re going to take a stab at this.
This Album? Was a heckin’ trip y’all. I am still completely blown away and utterly humbled by everyone that came to the concert, where we recorded this. Brian can speak better about the recording aspect of things, and Paul the logistics of steering the insanity, but I’m going to hit a little on the concert aspect of this. That’s going to take a small ramble to ‘splain my point.
A long time ago (not THAT long mind) kiddo!Erin started on the violin in primary school. After a couple weeks in orchestra she’d decided that she would be a violinist in an orchestra and that is what she would DO. This, oddly for her, didn’t budge, though other professions were put ‘ahead’ of it, to make her parents, teachers, and peers accept what she wanted to be ‘when she grew up’ (crib notes: growing up isn’t gonna happen. Adulting yes, growing up? HELL naw). Violin was always there. Music was an escape from a lot of things at the time, and a new club was offered before school: Strolling Strings.
I had already been memorizing my music in 5th grade: made not having to turn the music page easier, especially since with being “Gifted but Hyper” I often forgot my folio at home. Strolling Strings though, you walked around and played for people, rather than at them from a stage. You can have a music stand for that. From there I was hooked.
There is an exchange there, making music, lifting someone’s burden, whatever it is, for those few moments, and getting that smile in return. Providing that is addictive. From there I slowly decided that playing up on a stage, separated from the audience wasn’t what I was looking for. That was sealed when I discovered the Renaissance Festival. From there I found the SCA and fell deeper down the Bard rabbit hole. And whereas I would occasionally perform on a stage, there was still that connection, that feedback across the music.
It’s that feedback that’s soooooo vital, that makes music music. It’s magic, an ephemeral alchemical exchange where the performance lifts the audience and the audience sustains the musicians with their enjoyment of the music. Without that? Let me tell you, getting through a set in a ‘dead’ room, one that’s empty, or people are involved in their own thing and not listening at all? That is a rough set.
This ramble wound around to say that for the live, it reminded me that playing from a “stage” can still have that connection, and that was THERE. From one song to the next there was an energy swell there that was AWESOME. It grew as people clapped and sang along, and anyone that was in the room could feel it by the end of the night. That’s one reason CrowdSorcery fits so well: the live concert was magic that everyone there created, and wouldn’t have been the same if even one person was missing.
So the first thank you is to YOU. All of you that came to the concert, sang along, clapped and cheered, thank you. Without you this album frankly wouldn’t have happened. So as Brian would say, from the bottom of our hearts and the heart of our bottoms, thank you so for making the album, and our continued music possible.
Now, there are some specific people that need thanks, because without them we wouldn’t have even made it this far.
My mom. If she hadn’t been patient through the first few months of violin, I wouldn’t have found any of this. Thank you Momma.
My partners, Paul and Moni. Without their support and love I wouldn’t have made it to ten years ago, let alone to today. Thank you both for your patience, your love, for everything.
My thanks also goes to Phil Leco. He is the one that keeps us on track, herds the squirrels on crack that we are, keeping us in line, but not so much that we lose that creative zaniness that is where the mashups and reimaginings come from.
Thank you to Gabby Leco, Inge Atkinson, Rob Wold, Eric McCollum, Merrick Schmidt, Josh Boydston, Gabby Johnson….I know I am forgetting someone…Everyone that helps set up, organize, and tear down for the concert. Without your help we wouldn’t have been ready, nor would we have gotten home in nearly as good a shape as we did that day.
Thank you to my gothlings. You two inspire me every single day to learn, to keep trying, and to keep reaching. Thank you.
I could likely keep going for another couple of pages on everyone I want to thank, and everyone deserves it, but I need to leave space for everyone else.
Cheers ‘til the next one!
Brian –
Why do bands record albums? It can be expensive, you know. Time-consuming. Frustrating. Why go to all that trouble? There’s multiple answers here, some obvious, others not.
First, the obvious: We like money. Having new merchandise to sell at our shows helps keep the lights on, keeps gas in the tank and food on the table. Money allows us to keep doing this thing we love. So thanks for shelling out your hard-earned ducats for this latest album!
Ego is another common reason. It’s one thing to play a show and watch people’s responses in the moment. We’re pretty good at what we do, and it’s so very satisfying seeing people enjoy it. But it’s a whole other level when people are willing to spend their hard-earned dollars, just to be able to take our music home with them. People actually want to hear us make music? Even when they’re NOT in a bar? Mind. Blown.
There’s also the whole concept of legacy. A recording of our music is tangible evidence that this band did, in fact, exist. We had things to say, music to make, jokes to crack…and we did it. That’s some powerful stuff.
Delving into the mysteries of owning and operating a studio, I gained a different perspective on the whole concept of recording. A musician, or a band, decides that they have music they want to record. They know, because they are intelligent and experienced and terribly good-looking, that a given piece of music will sound different each time it’s played. Play the same music on the same instruments in the same room for the same audience on two different nights, and the music will be different each time. So they practice it to death, until they can effortlessly deliver a perfect performance. Microphones and assorted bits of gear get set up, the musician(s) make(s) music, and the engineer freezes that performance in time, like a bubble in a piece of amber. The engineer then works their art on that rough chunk of amber, cutting it, polishing it, making it as bright and beautiful as they possibly can. And then, the piece of music gets released into the wild.
And then, we have LIVE recordings. We’re not in a studio. We don’t have the luxury of doing multiple takes of anything; if Paul breaks a string in the middle of a song, if Erin knocks over a mic stand, if Brian forgets a verse of a song he’s known for decades, that track isn’t usable.. The room isn’t soundproof, isn’t acoustically treated, the sound is just going to bounce around however it wants to. It’s not a perfect recording environment. And then there’s actual PEOPLE there. Around a hundred of them, in this case. People are noisy. They can be unpredictable. They sometimes have unique ideas about what constitutes “fun”. (Ask me sometime how stressed I was over the possibility of some schmuck in the back of the room shrieking out “FREE BIRD!” in the middle of an important piece of music.) So why do it?
A live recording is risky, and as it turns out, nerve-wracking as heck. But the trade-off…the trade-off is that beautiful, messy, unpredictable audience. I think that as musicians, we’re at our best in a crowded room. It’s one thing to play a piece of music well. It’s an exponentially bigger and better thing, to play a piece of music well for a group of people who appreciate it. The performance may not be absolutely perfect, but being able to look out into the audience, see people responding to what we’re doing, taking this emotional journey with us for a couple of hours…THAT’s where the magic lies. The worst shows I’ve ever played weren’t the ones were everything went wrong, they were the ones where nobody showed up. Playing for an empty room can be demoralizing.
On that day in August, 2023, people came out in droves. Paid hard-won money to get in the door. Some of them even paid extra, so we had a few “scholarship” tickets to give out. A group of our nearest and dearest came, from all over the Valley, to be a part of this project. Listening to this album, you can hear their voices, singing with us, laughing with or at us, hands clapping time, applauding and cheering at the end of each song. I am so very, very grateful for each and every one of them; they truly helped make this magic happen. I’m still blown away, sometimes, that we get to DO this, make music for people, bring them love and laughter and tears and passion and some truly WEIRD humor. You, yes YOU, make all of that possible, and for that we thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.
Some other, special thanks are in order, I think. In no particular order:
DUANE WOODS, of Pyramix Studios. We met Duane in 2022, when we recorded our previous album “Mission Statement“. Duane’s a right guy, highly skilled and VERY good at what he does. Duane handled both the recording and the mixdown. We’re not always easy to work with; we’re musicians after all, a notoriously fickle and flighty lot. Duane handled every challenge and conundrum we threw at him, and we’re so pleased with the results that you now hold in your hand.
PAUL SCHMIDT AND ERIN LEWIS: Two of the finest musicians I’ve ever had the privilege of sharing a stage with. I’d have quit the biz a long time ago, gone back to working in the corporate sector, and watched my soul die an inch at a time, were it not for these two. They are skilled. They are passionate. They have patience beyond measure, a mandatory trait for dealing with the likes of me on a regular basis. I love them. I treasure our friendship. I owe them more than I have words to convey. And face it, they’re both cute as hell.
PHIL LECO: One of my bestest friends ever, we asked/begged/blackmailed him right around the time we were getting ready to record “Mission Statement“. Phil has evolved into a managerial role, and is personally responsible for keeping the band together (and me out of jail) on multiple occasions. He joins us onstage from time to time, and we’re just thrilled about that. Phil has perhaps the most challenging job of us all: As Cat Herder-in-Chief, he has his hands full. We ask too much of him; he responds with grace, vigor, and occasionally a large stuffed codfish.
ERIC AND LISSA MCCOLLUM: My beloved spousen, these two are the hub around which my entire world turns. They make me possible, and the band as well. Eric runs sound at our live performances, while Lissa fills double duty as staff photographer and den mother. The band couldn’t function without them, and I love them with all my heart. I’d like to dedicate this album to the two of them.
There’s more, so many more, but if I tried to write about all of them, we wouldn’t be able to release this album until October. In 2027. Besides, I should leave some of that to my bandmates. So again, I thank you, for being a part of this project. It’s a little rough around the edges, but made with passion and love and laughter. Kind of like us, I think.