Nurse the Hate: New Cowslingers Record

So, there’s a new Cowslingers record.  It started out as an idea.  Bobby and I decided to write some songs.  It was always easy for us.  We have had the ability to speak in shorthand that doesn’t make much sense to anyone else but we understand it.  It’s the product of too much time in the van and shared taste.  “OK, this is like an Evan Johns thing but with an early Tbirds vibe.  No, it’s gotta sound thicker than that.  Yeah but not all 70s out.  And we have to do that bridge thing twice but maybe only the second time.  You know?”  The best thing with songwriting is to be able to collaborate and make something better than either one of you could do on your own.  You need to be able to communicate and have a shared idea of what is good.  Enthusiasm for ideas and creativity goes a long way.

We wrote almost a complete record in a week.  I had been sitting on some ideas that were “Cowslinger” things.  Bobby had some riffs.  It was shockingly easy.  It came together.  We felt confident about the songs.  Now, maybe you’ll listen to these songs and think “Good God did those guys have some misplaced confidence there.”, but we felt good about them when we rolled into the basement.  This was Stage 2 of the experiment.  Would the band still sound good?  Krusty had to blow the dust off his bass.  We hadn’t played together in years except for a couple one offs where we played songs that are still muscle memory.  100+ shows a year for a half decade will do that for you.  But writing new material is a different beast altogether.

I won’t sugarcoat this.  Our first “practice” was a disaster.  I have no idea what Leo was up to prior to going down to the basement, but he was higher than most people at a Phish show.  He was all over the place.  Krusty immediately had equipment problems that didn’t help his trying to remember how to play the instrument.   I forgot words to our old songs we played to warm up.  I kept stumbling on the new melodies.  Bobby was asking “wait… how did that go again?”.  We sort of sucked.  We didn’t suck badly enough to scrap the entire thing, but there were some anxious phone calls between Bobby and I questioning the basic ability of this group of people being able to pull this off.

Then we had the second practice and it all clicked like it always had.  Leo was ready after being challenged by Bob.  Krusty remembered how to play the bass.  I remembered what the hell to do on the new stuff.  Bobby drilled the songs and was ready.  We still had whatever fragile magic that the four of us can conjure up when the wind is blowing right.  It sounded good.  The new stuff sounded like Cowslingers.  A heavy sigh of relief.

We recorded with John Smerek up at Rust Belt, where the last few Daredevils records have been recorded.  John already knew everyone but Bobby, so we wouldn’t have to tiptoe getting to know the guy behind the board.  He knew what the basic aesthetic was that the band was seeking.  We could just get down to work and blow the songs down as live as possible.  So that’s what we did.  Two days.  Basic tracks on Saturday.  All the vocals and doubled guitar tracks on Sunday.  We were on the road home before the sun set on Sunday.

I called John on Monday.  “Hey man.  Am I crazy or is that shit we just recorded good?”  John gave me a surprised laugh.  “Ahhhh, yeah!”  The thing is whenever you’re involved in recording something that you’ve written, the brain will often make it sound like what was in your head.  When it’s in my head, the idea always sounds like a slick FM radio track that just came out of nowhere and is perfectly mixed.  Add in the enthusiasm you have for your songs and it can be a self delusional ride.  The mind won’t want to hear how thin the guitar sounds or how flat you sang that note.  It’s the pitch perfect version in your imagination that resonates.  Someone needs to pull you aside and whisper, “Um, that’s not the final version, is it?”.  I trust John for that, but I secretly suspect he’s too nice a guy to point out our lesser tracks could use a little elbow grease in Santa’s Workshop.

We decided to do a few shows to pay for the recording.  It’s not cheap to make a record.  Just because you steal all your music from the internet doesn’t mean it was free for the people to make it.  Yeah, I know what you are up to on that computer of yours!  This studio shit adds up fast.  We are hoping you’ll buy a CD from us or at least the digital files on Bandcamp.  I don’t know if this record is a stupid vanity project or a continuation of the Cowslingers catalogue.  My gut tells me it’s picking up where we left off.  Give it a listen.  We hope you like it.