(note from webmaster: after we asked for "some sort of biography for your site," the following was subsequently delivered via a series of 23 western union telegrams - sent out of order - over the course of several weeks. what follows is the webmaster's best guess of the "monoscary collective"'s intended narrative order.)
once upon a time, long ago, we were in "the recording industry." (to us, the term rang forever oxymoronic.)
but as far back as 1983...when sequential circuits' robotic, soulless midi signal was formally adopted by our industry brethren (over our howls of warning?)
we knew the fix was in.
the halcyon days of analog warmth? twilight time. midi's casual de-prioritziation of composing and performing by the vedantic command of the bounce portended the imminent collapse of the high analog era (1948-1984.)
thanks a lot, dave.
high analog commenced in 1948 with columbia's introduction of the very first 33 1/3 long player (mendelssohn's violin concerto in e minor). we began to warn all that could hear that high analog had peaked - with ro-ayer's majestic, magisterial 1980 production of ladies of the eighties. and that within ten years? it would basically be over.
we ushered out of many a room. and gently reproached as "lysergic cassandras."
then a few months later, we were at ned doheny's super bowl party when it came on at halftime:
apple's 1984 commercial.
to any soul who sought to instill a spirit of egoless existential exploration into the intersection of rhythm/harmony/empathy? this george orwell/big mac collab presented as the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th signs all rolled into one.
it was in a fever dream that night...where we first registered its approaching chill.
the digital tsunami.
the coming onslaught of cold, brittle 0s and 1s.
in a flash, we saw it all: mark goodman defending mtv to bowie, the compact disc, protools, the roland jd-800, mellon collie and the infinite sadness, woodstock 99, napster, myspace, numbing overuse of the word "disruption," microdosing (when it comes to psychedelics, you're either in or you're out)...
...like a certain guitarist warned us one night at electric lady: "this is dishwater, m. let's split and go see the cake."
cut to 2020.
it has been two decades since we took a buyout. we now roam southern california, performing pro bono work in the botanical arts.
that day, we were in lower pasadena, resuscitating a hibiscus trionum at lincoln avenue nursery.
our eyes: wide shut.
for within a moment of truth? it matters not if the matter at hand is a flower, a friend, or the fabric of time itself. the bounce provides its pivotal command when one's eyes can close out visual abstraction. for as wuwei instructs - truth's most rarified instructions flow from within.
the moment of truth for lincoln avenue's flower-of-the-hour: just passed. the result: favorable. successful. joyful.
but ah...when the eyes close tight....the ears open wide.
we felt it before we heard it. a vibration we had not registered for many a year (since the 2002 rykodisc convention, to be exact).
the vibration that announces the the bounce.
the bounce presents in the lowest depths of the frequency spectrum. think of it as the red in a rainbow, letting you know that if you remain in balance, all other colors will soon arrive.
this red wave was larry-graham-low. we placed it at 65 kHz hz range, close by, refracting through a wooden wall. a wave wrought from the type of wide, spacious amplitude the bounce reserves for its longest-distance runs.
on instinct, we pointed towards an ancient barn at the back of a neighboring property, and whispered "who lives there?"
"why, that's where the friar lives!" panted the lincoln avenue assistant manager. "he's fully ordained - one of the bounce's made men - he performed a wedding here last july!"
this "friar" was turning back some dogeared, distant back pages in our mind.
our legendary ears, honed and calibrated by years of studio engineering and dhyana-based meditation, required less than five seconds to discern the convergence of three pre-1981 signal paths -
1. mark i maestro rhythm king. la-2a compressor. roland re-201 space echo (setting 5). amplified in the classic barn style: a fender bassman.
2. a parsons-white b-bender telecaster. (brief pause to bless mr. white.) univox super fuzz. maestro ps-1a phase shifter (depressing the blue pedal only.) echoplex ep3 (that squooshed preamp moves mountains.) the amp was harder to pinpoint (even for these wizened ears, the magic ears ned doheny used to refer to as "voyager 1 and voyager 2.")
3. oscillating, synthesized falsetto lead vocal. vocoder - perhaps even an early eventide harmonizer. stage 1 tape echo - an ace tone ec-10. the bassman's bright channel.
the song: transcendentally familiar. the alessi brothers. “seabird.”
we bought these expensive figurines at the rose bowl, thinking they were rare alessi brothers action figures.
we hear now that they are actually from some tv show about purgatory. we have never owned a television.
having driven for mr. bones howe in the later 70s (technically, we drove his driver - the record business was more holistic then) - we were present for much of the construction of said sheer shimmering masterpiece.
ah, but to be sucker-punched by it once more! refracted via a guitar straight out of side 3 of space ritual (pause to bless mr. kilmister!)
aggregate effect: hypnotic...a form of hypnosis steeped in a pre-1981 headspace.
we felt it on arrival. a dayglo event we had not experienced since elevating with dr. john at mardi gras 1979. a moment of lysergic recall. what the high school scaremongers used to call a “flashback.”
the microdotted out-of-body experience arrived in full...and the bounce assumed control of our physical form...and then, consciousness itself.
we’re told we whispered a taoist prayer to the trionum, patted the lincoln avenue manager on his head...and levitated over the fence.
and finally...we opened our eyes.
we registered a high wooden ceiling. the press of a cool cement floor beneath our back. a macramé pillow under our head.
there: a bespectacled cleric. (aligned towards chaotic good, we would soon learn.)
the friar! immediately presenting as both healer and host. in his hand: an ice-cold cup of single cultivar uji hikari matcha. which identified its brewer an empath supreme. somehow, this hornrimmed voyager preternaturally understood this tea was precisely what we required!
as he introduced himself, we saw him operating in a state of unconsciousness that only the ordained can attain - for as he talked, he also mixed my matcha with one hand, tuned a guitar with the other - while simultaneously depressing the 3 candy-colored pedals on his maestro ps-1a with one sneaker-clad foot...and adjusting the wavelength on his echoplex ep3 with his other foot.
and he was doing all of this with his eyes closed.
regarding our apology for this unannounced visit, the friar invoked beatitude - recognizing that "when the bounce adds an unseen dynamic into one's practice, it is never an interruption. merely a fresh consideration..." handing over the tea (eyes still closed) he proclaimed"we suspect this gatcrashing of matins somehow projects towards serendipity."
and then! he gave me the prestigious honor of choosing a pattern on his roland cr-68. those of us who engineered at electric lady during the first reagan administration still know this to be a gesture of utmost respect (certainly a gesture john oates never afforded any of us!)
and then we saw it: the amp we could not pinpoint. of course! premier model 71. link wray's powerful, punctured 3-way speaker! this great rumble had arrived in pasadena...by way of fredricksburg, va.
the friar continued to talk, setting levels for both of us, as if this were our normal everyday routine -
"- and of course we understand what the mark ii's two ancient oscillators are capable of...and what rarified outcome could arrive...if one practices patience, presuming nothing...that just maybe the bounce will judge conditions as favorable."
"and now...we shall learn what the bounce thinks of all this fresh calamity."
with that, the friar threw an almost 50-year-old switch, illuminating the red power light of an ancient arp odyssey mark ii. he helped us to our feet, simulatanously dragging over a chair. we sat down at the arp's controls - enough choices to fly a small one-engine piper cub.
the bounce commanded a shift of oscillator 2 to sawtooth - away from the grasp of pulse control. it became clear the bounce was communicating an already-considered intent, saying: "fear not...then we are in control."
we depressed one key...then a second. and the arp's 2 weathered oscillators answered back - in calibrated harmony.
ah, zounds! the bounce was offering this spontaneous collaboration an orientation gift: the gift of immediate duophony. for without the bounce's blessing? any engineer can tell you it may take weeks for duophony to converge within a vintage odyssey mark ii.
the arrival of harmony began to close the circle on that particular a.m. journey...while portending monoscary's future path.
a duophonic convergence. a collaboration. a partnership.
a humble realization.
that this seemingly random happenstance a.m. jam -- sparked by the brothers alessi -- wasn't random in the slightest.
this...had been the bounce's plan all along.
it was what it is.