Turned out it would be. A hippie dance band that I had been a member of at the time; Atomic Theory Dance Band, to be exact, Eliezer Kaplan, the band’s leader, offered his home studio up for me to record the performance at. So, off I went on that Sunday afternoon to go look at the set-up, no sooner did I get there, when trouble began. On a side note, although I was a member of the group and I had some say about how songs were shaping up and offering suggestions and ideas, Kaplan was (and still is) a bully. Before I even entered his home, I was to call in advance, as he had two dogs, one named Mitzi, a small white friendly poodle and the other Buddy, a rather vicious dog, which Kaplan claimed was a nice dog despite his bark. He said I had to call in advance so they could cage the dogs and to keep them from attacking me. Kaplan, in that strange way, shared the commonality with Buddy. Both dogs were caged together, a rather cruel way if you ask me, but I digress. I was let in the front door and followed him upstairs to the attic, aka the recording studio. From there, he read me the riot act, what I could touch, what I couldn’t touch or use. No problem, so I thought. So we decided to test the equipment. First the electrical outlet. I plugged my laptop cord in, then pulled it out. He nearly blew a gasket, complaining that the electrical wiring had cost him nearly a few hundred dollars and that I should be more careful. A few minutes later, I don’t remember if it happened by accident or on purpose, but as we passed by his full drum kit, a cymbal stand and a smaller drum crashed to the floor, causing him to go beserk! “Oh my god!” he screamed, “this is going to cost me a fortune! “Out! Out! “Get out of my house! No! I won’t help you! No! you can’t record here! You’re too weird for my eclectic tastes!” He began chasing me and down and out I ran downstairs from upstairs studio, only to be met head-on by his vicious barking dog. Kaplan cursed me out further, as I left and as I left, I heard the door slam hard, as his voice trailed off, still cursing me out.
I was back to square one again. No proposals had proved fruitful thus far. Our last hope for me was to record my enitre portion from my studio apartment. In other words, Plan B. I was no stranger to recording our performing in an apartment before, recalling the time I had my appendix taken out in September, 1998 and I was unable to drive anywhere for nearly a week.
My band and myself at the time, Tribal Screen Hens, were scheduled to perform live on WZRD (Northeastern Illinois University, Chicago, Illinois) on a Sunday night. No problem I told the radio hosts; we’d just set up the living room like a recording stage and call in from a speaker phone. Problem solved, difficulty averted. But here I was stuck, all possibilities exhausted, ready for Plan B. that’s when word came from Swing State; it had reopened for business, fire department approved.
Yay! We were on our way!
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