As I was saying, it's nice to know a few folks if you're on the road, out and about, traveling and discovering, especially if you're alone. Humans were made for roots, deep and shallow, connections are hard to avoid, they become part of the excursions. Earlier in the year, Viva Big Bend times, it was determined and declared by my main Alpine connection and friend, Barry, that he wanted to start a band called Cool Arrows. I liked the name right off, and invited myself to join. I'd written 4 to 5 tunes for the project, I'd serve as producer and sound engineer; I'd connect with Barry and his wife, Sara, when I got to town, I was prepared to make it happen, someone's got to push the project from idea to drop.
I had no studio, we had nothing nailed down or lined up, no songs, no additional players, no rehearsals, it was unclear if they were even going to be in town, last I'd heard from Barry, weeks prior, they could be stuck in Houston because Sara had just become a grandma. Babies are the most important people on this earth, God bless the babies, protect the babies from harm. Thankfully, everything went smooth in Houston, and we met up at the Old Gringo downtown to hear the house band and check in. I was a bit weary, still feeling the effects of closing down the Continental Club in Austin a couple nights earlier, but we developed a plan, the project was a go--we would record the entire album the following evening at El Viejo Studios, Barry would have 4 tunes, I'd have 4, we'd record three takes of every song, figured we'd need 3 to 4 hours, the Cool Arrows was just us for now. Fewer the better in my mind, less moving parts, less audio clutter, less coordination, fewer dynamics.
The session went smooth, caught 8 solid songs on digital, we had an album. We worked at a professional pace, recording over 30 tracks in all, we were beat by the end. Tunes about sons and dogs on streets and generations and being someone different and Wednesday afternoons, with oooo's and ahhh's and stomps and dings, with sparse guitars and finished off lyrics, with trucker talk and Gil Prather's Mexican Moon. Say what you want to say, and the Cool Arrows did--loud and low, amplified and whispered. Almost like a ghost choir.