The song list was out there, out there out there. Amos made sure we had communication and coordination. He was running with it, chords, lyrics, ideas, his Zappa Minor Scholar street cred was really showing up. Wednesday night it was, at the Hunter S. Thompson sound room in Frisco, 6-9, hard stop, let's see what we have here. The Pablo Picasso Project was ready for noise, we have a live performance sometime, somewhere before November 18th, evidently.
I was beat when Amos picked me up for our first practice session. After 27 holes of extreme heat golf, I had this woozy feeling and the sinking doom of unpreparedness. Hadn't practiced once, just a quick glance at the tunes, but I had recently acquired a 1964 Gibson J-45, and figured I could wing it or fake it or just add some little extras. Supergroups are the best, somebody gonna bring something almost always. Everybody gets to coast a bit, like a ride or a dream.
Ugly Matt was there when we arrived. A guitar making, guitar playing, vagabond from L.A., he could do anything and was prepared to rock, punk, pop, or bang. He was ready for something he told me on a garage break, something to sink his teeth into, timing has its own timing, ya know. We nailed down 5 tunes easy and without internal angst, Amos was finding our way through, leading from the back, flexible and booming, "Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole!" The third take was a masterpiece, wish I had it on tape.
