My daughter Natalie, world traveler that she is, is about to embark on a visit to India and other rather dodgy areas in the East, for what reason, no one really knows. She'll be traveling with her boyfriend - which affords a modicum of assurance - but he doesn't know what they're doing either. I'd feel safer if she had some financial cushion in order to buy her way out of jail, hostage situations, and other everyday trials of the mystic lands. Not that I had any safety net when I was legging it around Europe and Morocco etc., but times were different then. Knowing that she won't have to beg for food, however, is at least something that might provide me and her mother at least a modicum of comfort. Therefor, I've been giving her things to sell (hey kid, earn it!). One of them is my marvelous old Sony Walkman Pro Cassette Recorder WM-D6C. It's hard to let this awesome piece of hardware go, but now that I have a teensy MP3 recorder to do my rough demos on, a much easier device seeing as you can email the results to your band rather than snail mail them cassettes, which might baffle modern day band members anyway, it will just sit in a box doing nothing.
I listened to a Sam Cooke cassette of greatest hits on it the other day through headphones and very nearly reneged on the offer. The sound was amazing. Bright, clear high-end, rich middle ground and deep bass greeted my ears, making digital MP3 recordings sound like the thin excuse for fidelity that they are.
What am I thinking? I found myself thinking. Sell this, so that my daughter can get wasted on primo Indian black in some crap hole hotel in Calcutta?
Whatever, it's too late to stop now.
This is the very machine that I recorded the "Carp Fishing On Valium" tunes on, which eventually were turned into a CD sold on this very website. This is the machine that I recorded the demos for "12 Haunted Episodes" on, which I listened to over and over again on high volume in headphones and decided right there and then (after a few buckets of Bad Chardonnay) that I should record the album solo (albeit in a proper recording studio), then add the musicians later, an idea that would horrify my engineer when I insisted that this was the way this album was going down.
This is the machine that I have recorded the rough demos for many albums over the years: "The Mona Lisa's Sister," "Struck By Lightning," "Human Soul,"...the list goes on.
Well, here it is, a piece of GP history, sold off for a passel of stomach churning curries, served up by Hindus with their thin penance-earning arms held in the air and the ability to turn their bodies into pretzels at the drop of a rupee.
One of these fine gadgets just went for almost $500 on eBay and they often go for something in that area, but no one on eBay has to my knowledge mentioned that I (or any other reasonably well-known rocker) has recorded tons of tunes on one, including an album made available commercially.
This item will come with a signed copy of the CD, "Carp Fishing On Valium-the songs," recorded on this very machine.
Here's the link:
Put it in the hands of a GP fan (then I can borrow it and record a rendition of "Happy Birthday" on it, personally, for you) and my daughter can continue to spend much of her life in complete aimlessness, but at least she'll have a few bucks for a curry in her pocket.