Back from recording in Kentucky, the Bosch are getting ready for yet another rock extravaganza tomorrow night at the Upper East Side’s hottest (and only?) rock club, The Underscore.
Check out all the photos from the trip.
Click through for the full trip report…
Hello to all my loyal rock lovers- Josiah Pseudonym here, knowin’ all my cats and kitties are itchin’ to hear how it all went down. I needed a day or two to collect my thoughts on the substantial events that took place for my favorite foursome, and unfortunately had to jump back into my “export” business right away upon my return, but here she is:
The Bosch boys have just returned back to Brooklyn after 11 days soaking in the rollling hills of Appalachia, guzzling whiskey and rockin’ out in the old familiar ways, as well as some brand new ones. Here’s what really went down in THE OL’ KY.
Getting out of the city was a challenge and a half: armed with Melanie(their trusty M-Class Mercedes truck), and a Uhaul trailer loaded down with damn near every piece of musical equipment they own, the boys inched their way outta the five boroughs and across Interstate 78 West, bumper to bumper for a good hour and a half or more…..Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” was the appropriately selected soundtrack for the foursome, eager to get some blurry landscape happenin’ out Melanie’s windows. Speaking of the maroun lady, Melaine was first required to prove her mettle when some assinine Keystone-Stater decided that, since she has missed her exit on the Interstate, the best plan of action would be to come to a dead stop in the left lane. On the Interstate. Holt boldy swerved around these shenanigans, and Ms. Melanie, agile shitkicking sport truck that she is, held fast and firm…pulling 1500 pounds of strings, sticks and amps with her. After passing through the enormous sta te of Pennsylvania in all it’s latitudinal glory, including the Mountainous tunnels of the Pennsylvania Turnpike, Brett’s creepy encounter at a truckstop with a Butane-weary member of the Village People, and experiencing the monumental distance needed to leave the Chesapeake Bay Watershed, enough progress had been made….Eventually, around midnight, the relative peace of the Bentleyville, PA Best Western was the nights terminus.
The Boys woke and got motivated for more roadin’ around 10:00am, and hitched themselves up for the ride to Louisville, Kentucky. After rollin’ through the remainder of Pennsylvania, a pit stop at was in order. Holt wouldn’t have been able to carry on living without being able to share his love of greasy breakfast foods, so he demanded a stop at the first Bob Evan’s restaurant that was sighted. After loading up on carbs and pork products (“Ugh!! Bob Evans” would be a trip long reference to the heavy meal, and state of the restrooms at the aforementioned greasy spoon) the foursome set out through a beautiful corner of West Virginia, much to the chagrin and mockery of the Jersey-ites. Although, with Ohio ahead, all would soon be missing the stunning beauty of the “Wild, Wonderful” state presently…..
Seems to be a pretty flat place where the only natural beauty comes in its border zones with states better known for such natural attributes. The boys found themselves repeatedly in flash floods that came and went within a few miles, and were generally terrifying…..In the midst of all this natural dynamism, the boys pit stopped at what, for a certain I don’t know what, as the Frogs sometimes say, might have been the most depressing rest stop ever….Maybe because it was within 10 miles of Xenia, Ohio- locale of the film Gummo. After about four episodes of these torrential downpours, where the sky and the road became the same shade of sepia, the Boschers were slowed to a halt approaching Cincinnati in rush hour- the last major roadblock into the Bluegrass state.
WE’RE IN KENTUCKY, WE’RE IN KENTUCKY, WE’VE GOT A LOT OF ‘TUCKY JUST TO GO AROUND
As is Ohio’s wont, the last few miles of Ohio gave way to some topographical variation, and a bridge crossing later, we were in the state of our destination. The land of Ponies. The Boys arrived at Jeff Smith’s house, their promoter/project manager for the album soon to commence, and were treated to some cold brews and a relatively gourmet meal (Ugh!! Bob Evans!!!!) on the condition of cleaning up Jeff’s patio furniture, not yet used this season. After hobnobbin’ with Jeff(A.K.A. the Prince of Louisville) his assistant Becca and friends, the boys shortly headed off to their gig at Rudyard Kipling’s in downtown Louisville. The boys slashed and burned their way through 15 tunes, met some new friends, sold themselves a CD or two, and had a good time. Driving across town, and passing an active skatepark at nearly two in the morning, the boys let out a yelp of joy at the sight of such vibrant activity in a foreign place.The Bosch-men returned to Jeff’s house for more imbibing, eating, and crazy tales of Princedom. Finally, sometime after 4 a.m., it was time for some much needed rest. Brett was the first to crash out, and got a first hand impression of Jeff’s proclivities(or was it Holt?)
The Bosch began to stir to life sometime around 11:00, Brett and Matt from their respective inflatable mattress pads, Andrew curled impossibly in a lounge chair, and Holt blessed with the relative comfort of Jeff’s living room couch. Headin’ out to Lexington, Kentucky was a easy, short jaunt- save the time needed to compensate for minimalist directions, The Bosch found themselves in leafy suburbia, the secret location of Shangri-la Studios.
DUANE LUNDY- SHANGRI-LA PRODUCTIONS
Saturday mid-afternoon: Loading into the studio, located in an unsuspecting/unrevealing upscale home in suburban Lexington, the boys found themselves in a subterranean lair full of Rickenbacker guitars, oriental rugs, vintage keyboards, endless streams of live music DVDs, and Mr. Duane Lundy himself. Charming, velvet-voiced man-about-town, casual cad, and tuneful producer welcomed the boys with open arms, directed the load-in process and laid out the plans for the coming days of mic-ing, tuning, and playing. With a gracefulness unbeknownst to the Bosch Boys, drum tuning and room set up proceeded with a casual expeditiousness. With steady progress, drum tracking began Saturday night, a day ahead of schedule.
MR. ERIC SMITH
Guitarist and singer for the Bosch’s brother band, The Apparitions, with unbelievable grace and generosity, which can really only fairly be described as southern, allowed the boys Bosch use of his fine digs at The Manor, a condominium complex literally 3 minutes drive from Duane’s home and studio. With the mere request that the boys don’t do smack in his pad, the boys found themselves in a comfortable home to rest the night, and played with Eric’s cool-ass feline friend, Lefty.
Andrew had to split town on the early side, back up to the BIG APPLE via jet aircraft to prep his crafty mind for legal eaglin’. Brett, Matt, and Holt returned to lay down drum tracks with Duane. The day passed quickly and economically, with all drum tracks finished by days end, already soundin’ as good as anything they had recorded before, and goddamnamazing considering no real mixing had yet occured. Duane voiced that he was impressed by my men and their rigorous rehearsal standards. After putting in about 8 hours of skin-spankin’, the boys retired to Eric’s pad for the evening, pulling in tow a case of brew and a bottle of Maker’s Mark for sleepy-time aid. After watching Raising Arizona and parts of Ronin, excellent pieces of cinema courtesy of Mr. Eric, the boys bedded down for the night, eager to jump back in for tomorrow’s focus: four stringin’ bass slingin’.
Brett jumped in like gangbusters to throw in the low end, and it was at this point that Matt’s newfound obsession with McDonald’s breakfast was beginning to become apparent to all involved. Shocking to the likes of soyteachailatte bag man Brett, and especially to Long John Silver’s grease slurper Holt, thinking he was flying solo on the digestive destruction tip. Brett knocked ’em out right down the line, and by days end, basic rhythym tracks were complete- with three separate options of how to route the tone. In celebration of the ahead-of-schedule progress, the three made their way out to the local googleplex movie house and watched The Lords of Dogtown, a pleasant if verbose tale of kid outlaws on skateboards. Brett and Matt enjoyed concessions not available at the theater’s snack stand-straight from Latrobe, PA. The night ended back at Eric’s pad with Lefty providing entertaining paw slashes and Steve Irwin, “The Crocodile Hunter”, putting his poor wife through all kinds of hell.
Saw the beginning of guitar tracking, as well as some percussion work. Brett and Holt made the pilgirmage over to see Jimmy, a.k.a. “Gandalf” for some specialty products of the region. After taking in the view at Gandalf’s, and meeting his three actually lovely canines, albeit each of a breed known for their potentially violent streaks, Brett and Holt returned to Shangrila to wrap up the day. The highlight of the evening was a trip down to The Dame, center of downtown activity- and totally bitchin’ rock club. Man-about-town Duane and Mr. Eric, sometime doorman, allowed the threesome free admission, and through a largely undisclosed favor for Dame owner Cole, a year’s free bar tab for Mr. Lundy and his companions. The evening concluded with the boys dropping Duane at home while, unbeknownst at the time, being followed by irate strippers who later egged and toilet papered Duane’s house.
While Matt hustled over to Duane’s for guitar heroics, Brett and Holt stayed in their new pad, a few buildings down from Eric’s, still in the Manor complex, and soaked up a bit of sun, Brett rising early and responsibly to stay on top of his workload, retouching photos and updating an online catalogue of artwork and antiques. Holt and Brett sat out poolside for an hour and, as his custom, Holt, sans sunblock, got his whole year’s worth of Vitamin K, as well as a pleasant lobster tone. Mid afternoon, Brett and Holt headed over the Duane’s to check in on Matt’s strummin’, happily avoiding as much talk of “glassy tones” and guitar/amp combinations as possible, and they did a bit of work themselves, mostly focusing on handclap duties and backing vocals. Andrew was collected from Lexington airport later in the evening, and another trip downtown found the boys joined by the Prince of Louisville, Mr. Jeffrey Smith, along with Jeff’s friend, known as “The Hawk” a vocalist of note, along for the ride. The Dame was the final destination of the evening, although another party was sought out and not found….
Put Andrew right to work, throwing down Sax and Keys left and right. Vocals and guitar leads were the other major focus of the day.
Pounding through what needed to get done, the day ended as successfully as the others, miles gained in minutes due to the herculean effort and the damn near spiritual focus the boys were able to bring to the project as a whole…..the evening kicks were kept close to home…Brett, Andrew and Matt went poolside to relax, inviting some University of Kentucky students to a party that ended up not happening in the Bosch pad. Holt stayed home and drunk himself into a stupor, and enjoyed the myriad distractions of cable.
David Hadland, Duane’s partner in crime, was put in a room with Mr. Andrew, working on key parts and not being let out to breathe too much. Everything else that needed attention was put together and, as is the custom in the recording process, came together just in time. After the days work, the boys set over to a nearby ballpark/recreation area to take advantage of the rare opportunity to take photos on a Korean War-era tank and shoot off fireworks for kicks. One last trip downtown to the heart of Lexington for the enjoyment of bar games like air-hockey and darts(Brett won air hockey, and Andrew and Holt won team darts) and it was soon bedtime for Bonzo.
Was an early riser, getting underway by about 10:00am, Those toughies from Brooklyn rolled out onto Interstate 64 East, destination Virginia Tech, in Blacksburg Virginia. The scenery through Kentucky, West Virginia and finally southwestern Virginia was certainly the prettiest so far in the journey, and the boys arrived in the town of Blacksburg around 3:00pm, had a quick meal at a local watering hole, the River Mill(repeatedly encountering a soused young man yelling about his favorite band: “Yeah Yeah Yeah”), and rendezvoused with Matt’s Dad and Aunt Rachel, in town to watch the boys do what they do best. WUVT, Va Tech’s college radio station, had invited The Bosch to perform on “The Local Zone,’ a weekly radio program highlighting local and regional acts. Gentlemen and scholars, Len Comaratta and Josh Arritt, DJ and engineer respectively, performed marvelously, getting a great sound with relatively limited equipment and making the boys comfortable for their first on-ai r performance. All were thrilled with the result, and Holt’s Dad (Va Tech alumni), unfortunately unable to attend, but onetime voice of the WUVT station identification, made several phone calls to Holt, as excited as ever he’s been, undoubtedly with the life-continuity offered by the presence of the Bosch on those very same Blacksburg airwaves. After a sweaty and satisfying set, as well as an excellent on air interview, the boys retired to the Holiday Inn to wind down for a few, then were treated to dinner downtown with Matt’s dad Jeff and Aunt Rachel.
DAY ELEVEN- WHAT WAS THAT “PROCLAIMERS” HIT?
Was the meanest of all- Having to beat a deadline of 4:30pm to drop the Uhaul trailer in Park Slope, Brooklyn- and with 500 miles left to travel, the Bosch Boys made the evil oath to hit the road at 6:00am. Having turned in about 12:30am, and horribly jolted out of slumber at the Holiday Inn by a fire alarm prank at 2:30 am(likely culprit- a wedding party- hope you have years of happiness, bastards), the boys blinked open their eyes at 5:30am, swallowed their pain, and rolled out. No real time to eat, and on laughable rest, the boys fought the demons that wanted to hold them back. Melanie proved true as ever, even on the gawdawful road conditions in Pennsylvania on Interstate 70-East. Turned away from the Holland Tunnel(terrorists have made it tough for rockers, too) The boys crawled up along Hoboken’s streets to access the Lincoln Tunnel, made their way across Manhattan’s Canal Street to the Manhattan bridge, and dropped the trailer sometime around 4:24pm. A car service Ford Expedition full of gear, as well as a reorganized Melanie, carried the gear its final leg back to 79 North Fourth Street, rock home of the Bosch Boys.