Tape me; tape me, my friend

Step On Stubby (or Booster Jab Ordeal, or whatever we eventually decide on) had its first recording session today, and it went surprisingly well. Immensely tiring, given that (as we were only recording single takes with all amps and vocals miked up in the same room) everyone was playing all the time for over five hours. But by the end of it, while we had nothing we’d ever release, we at least had two songs we might play to promoters, and all our other songs (three—ha!—plus covers) in some recorded form. That way we won’t forget them between rehearsals any more, is the idea at any rate.

I think I’d forgotten the extent to which—not that my voice sounds awful—but that my voice can sound awful, or sound really rather good, and it’s almost impossible to tell which at the point of singing. We weren’t monitored very well, though, an excuse that I will happily repeat to anyone interested. But there’s clearly a lot I managed to excise from my singing when in Mofus that has returned, because it’s easy to talk adenoidally, mumbling and shuffling your way to the end of the sentence. Musically, though, that only works if you’re Mark E Smith.

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