Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Shambu News 12.15.04

The Dissertation
the official newsletter of Shambu

This edition of the Dissertation features some upcoming gigs, a recording update, and a cool piece by the very talented Daniel Falkner.


THIS SATURDAY, December 18
SPoT Coffee
227 Delaware Ave., Buffalo (Downtown, on the corner of Chippewa)
9:00 p.m.-12:00 a.m.
All Ages!

Saturday, January 15
Central Park Grille
2519 Main St., Buffalo, NY (between Canisius and UB South Campus)
10:30 p.m.-12:30 p.m.
$3 at the door


On Monday, Pete went into Select Sound Studios in Kenmore to begin recording several solo tunes, including:

Song for Mirka
Be Careful
Theory on Life
The Barber’s Son

Things didn’t always go smoothly. Pete’s self-assessment of his vocals on “The Barber’s Son”: “I sounded like a slopped up Anna Nicole Smith before TrimSpa. In other words, the best singing I’ve ever done.”

On Tuesday, the Shambu lads hit the studio, armed with some Yuengling “sodas,” and laid down drums, bass, and keyboard for the following songs:

Six Years
Business First
Primp and Preen
Lake Effect

Word on the street is that the band may have recorded a pair of old-school jams for b-sides. To keep them secret, but still give you a hint as to what they might be, we’ve randomly scrambled the titles:

inG And Juice
apper’sR Delight

Says a frustrated Brian: “Damn it. These stump me every time.”

Vocals, guitar, sax, trombone, and additional keyboards will be recorded this coming Monday and Tuesday. If time permits, the band also hopes to do a remix of Diet Pepsi, featuring a horn section, such as they displayed during their OffBeat Cinema performance.


“Excessive Happenings”
by Daniel Falkner

I’ve written this before somewhere. It was in an email or a letter or in an essay I wrote for some magazine. But I know I’ve written it before, because I don’t usually get ideas this clear so quickly. Usually I have to work it out; I have to coax it from my imagination. I have to trick it onto the page. But this I didn’t. I just remembered it and I decided to write it.

I’ve been having a lot of moments like this. Ones where I’ll remember something new: something I haven’t experienced before but I’m still remembering.

It’s all a kind of déjà vu, I suppose.

But that’s not enough. And I don’t want to just label it after some Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young song. I won’t be that passive.

It will happen everywhere. A person will walk by me in the street and I will turn around as they keep walking. I’ll look at them, content that they will soon turn around and look at me too. We’ll walk toward one another and talk about that thing we did that one time.

Or it will happen at the library. I’ll be reading a book and then set it down, sure that I know the ending. I’ll even look at the last page. I’ll feel the edges of it with my fingers, as though it will tell me what I already know. I’ll pull the pages closely to me, and then push them far away. I’ll turn it sideways, and finally I’ll smell it—really shove my nose in it like it was a peach I wanted to see was ripe. But it will be nothing and I’ll set it back on the table, staring instead at the cover.

The whole idea of something happening before it has happened bothers me. Or is it that it has already happened and I’m just re-living it? How does that work? I would think it would actually be that it’s all happening at once, and soon the reel must end—snap—and it’s off to DiMaggio and Mantle in the sky.

Because I feel like I’ve done this before as well—sitting, writing on my laptop with my roommates screaming about a video game, Pearl Jam in the background. I’ve done it before, that’s true. Probably dozens of times. But like this? With my right leg straight on my bed and the kink in my neck and my left leg bent at the knee. It’s a terribly awkward position, but I know I’ve felt it before.

It happens in dreams. I’ll see people from the past. And for some reason I have control over knowing exactly who they are, even if I’m a little confused by why they are? Why am I twenty-two years old and dreaming about a girl I had a crush on in sixth grade? And, if this has all happened before, why is it that I see people now from the future and have no recollection of who they are?

This thing called time: the snapping of the fingers or the clicking of drum sticks to start a gig; the falling and rising of the hands of the clock; the shadows moving unknowingly on the ground. Who decided that it must be a forward action?

But that’s what I’ve been thinking about lately—Time. You see, I have these dreams where I’m driving down Main Street. It’s not a ghetto though, and I feel like I always have—never young or old. It’s sunny and the radio is playing static. There are all the nice things too, like sun and clouds and birds and leaves on the trees and people smiling as they walk down the sidewalks. There aren’t any other cars and the road is clear. But then I’m driving and its night. Blink. Night time. Like that. There are no people on the sidewalks and the street is a ghetto again. Nothing is open. There’s a light though. A car coming from my left. I watch it collide with the side of my car and I see the driver. It’s a girl with no face, and she looks young.

There are days when I’ll drive down Main Street, on my way to Wendy’s or the Anchor Bar and remember this dream—this déjà vu—this future. It’s a time sort of thing. And I don’t like driving Main Street anymore. I don’t want to meet that girl in the car with the lights. I’d rather it doesn’t become night time. I’m sure I’ll worry about it again some time.

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