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Music is a nice hobby because it keeps you away from street drugs.
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Apr 1, 2014 08:10
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| # ¿ May 9, 2024 12:23 |
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"Why Your Band Should Jump Off A Bridge" By Joseph Grodski, Engineer The Drummer The bloke who rode the short bus to school. Thinks he's Animal from The Muppet Show, only in real life he's an ADD moron. Bend down to adjust the snare mic and he gives it a good *whack*... right in your God drat ear. Then he looks at you like, "What, brosef?". Idiot. It's like he's off in his own little crack-head world, just smashing the drums like an chimp throwing a tantrum. Can't play to a click, can't even tie his own shoes. NOTHING is loud enough for his tinnitus-torn ears. You'll be lucky if he doesn't pull out a beer and spill it all over the drum room, including himself. Yell in his face and he can't even hear you. No wonder Dad kicked you out of the family garage, you lanky-armed degenerate. Also, ever hear of deodorant? Sweet Jesus, you reek of poo poo. The Bassist Born and raised a mute. Usually just nods or shrugs, probably doesn't know the difference between the two gestures. Plays a full song completely off rhythm, and when you ask if he can hear himself in the headphones, he simply shrugs. Then the band looks at YOU like it's your fault. Not my fault if he mother drank a quart of gin every night when she was pregnant. Not my fault no one trained him to speak full sentences. My cat meows with more coherency then this clown. Who cares, nobody can hear the bass on your lovely "post-metal" album anyway. You might as well just unplug it from the amp and stare at the floor. It would make no difference to anyone. Hell, just go home and give up. The Guitarist The mediator, or as I would simply put it, the obnoxious douche. Thinks he's the glue that holds the band together. In reality, everyone thinks your a pathetic prick. You need to realize your a dime a dozen, because everyone and their grandmother plays guitar now and could replace you in a millisecond. Probably do a better job as well. My little niece plays better solos than you. No amount of pedal trains will help mask your lack of talent, you insufferable twit. First your monitors are too loud, then too quiet, then too... ugh. Why can't you just keep your mouth shut? Oh yeah, it's because you wish you were the singer. We all know... it's painfully obvious. In fact it's the embarrassing elephant in the room. Just quit now, and maybe salvage what's left of your "career" into some ambiguous cross genre side-project that no one will ever listen to, ever. Ever. The Keyboardist Seems tolerable.. till he opens his fat mouth. Then suddenly transforms into an intolerable neck-bearded sloth. Quite the piece of work, this guy actually gets personal: "Gee, the other studio we usually goes to uses a Neve console". Or perhaps my favorite, "Why would you place your bass-trap *there*?". Christ almighty, why has someone not dropped a house on this troll yet? How is it you still have all your teeth?? So you went to a recording arts college, congrats on a piece of paper that will get you nowhere. Welcome to Walmart. Your the reason why abortion exists, you Trent Reznor wanna-be hack. That synth your playing would sound alot better if you learned to program it, too. Nice trench coat, asshat. I hope you fall down a sewer and are eaten by slugs. No one gives a poo poo how many synths you have at home. in fact, GO HOME. The only thing we care about is what VST plug-in can replace your nerdy rear end. The Singer The holy grail of rear end in a top hat. I almost don't think I need to explain this delusional sack. Has half-an ounce of talent, yet thinks he's Gods gift to the universe. Truth is, the whole world hates you. Your own mother hates you. Your a regret. You are beyond salvageable as a functional member of society. You make Xerces from 300 seem like a down-to-earth humble Joe. Your singing is mediocre at best. Your range is crap. Your talent is a 6 out of 10 and yet somehow you think we should bow to you when you walk in the room. How about you fall on a pair of scissors? In a perfect world, your face would be burned like Freddy so people could see what you really look like. Take off that mask. Christ, I feel bad for your girlfriend. Just sitting there in the back of the control room, wondering how long your lovely relationship must endure these sessions. Sometimes, I'm tempted to blast white-noise into your headphones as loud as I can, in the hopes that it will deafen you, leaving you no other alternative than slow suicide. Because what will the world do without your "special gift"? In the mean time all we can do is pray your vocal chords tear and you spend the rest of your life in a cardboard box. Honorable Mentions: The Manager Assuming anyone would actually call you a "manager", you pathetic leech. All you are is the bassists brother-in-law. You offer nothing other than riding on coat-tails of the non-talented. So you DJ'd for a year and now your an accountant. Good for you, what do you want, a medal? You might actually be tolerable if you just sat at the back of the control room and shut your rear end. But no, you think your also a world-famous produce and mixing engineer? Your a useless thing. Nothing more. Living with a made up title and non-paying hobby-job. Why do you even bother? Why not learn to play the spoons or press play on a iPod? Seriously why are you here? GO. AWAY. The band doesn't give a poo poo about you and neither does anyone else in the building. You mine as well be a ghost, an apparition that just floats around the room trying hard to look important and have something to say. It's like your not even there, you parasite. The Guitarists Buddy Who the gently caress are you, and why are you here? I don't know who you are, and whatever intern let you in is fired at the end of this session. No you can't bring beer in here. NO, you sure as hell can't "help out". Jesus, your like a stain on an already dirty pair of underwear. Drop DEAD, you skin tag.
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Apr 19, 2014 07:53
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