Sometimes I think I may have these tracks out of order, especially when I come across a piece of junk like this one. Sure, it’s a sketchbook and all, but once in a while its less of a riff and more of a train wreck. And after a run of really good material, having a stretch of painfully awful work just doesn’t make sense. There should be some sense of artistic growth. But there isn’t – at leas not with this final set of songs from the second side of the second tape.
Seriously – I keep going back to the mp3s that were transferred from the original tapes and were grouped by which tape and which side of the tape. And also on one tape I identify it audibly as “Volume Two” and another as “Volume Three” but there is no Volume One.
So, is something mislabeled, or did I just take a left turn at Albuquerque, artistically speaking?
Well, I recently re-discovered the box with all my original tapes as I sort through more than one hundred boxes of mementos and memorabilia I’ve had in storage for years. Now, if I could only find my old cassette player. Guess I probably have to buy a new one and may have to redo all of these transfers too, since the first time I converted them to mp3 I set the bit rate at 56kps.
Sheesh. At what point do I admit that only a handful of people in the entire parade of human history will ever listen to ANY of these recordings, and even though I still (generally) like the smell of my own crap, there comes a point when the effort to indulge oneself in oneself outweighs the self-stroking benefit by a magnitude of biblical proportions?