click here for all the covers for SAAJS
get set, for
jet set +
(((the new EP)))
Hello, and welcome back, you
3_lab/ th3 third beginning. PLEASE BE EXTREMELY CAREFUL WHEN PRO-NOUNCING THE WORD 3_LAB THAT YOU DONT SAY IT "THREE LAB"... YOU SHOULD SAY "E-LAB)" INSTEAD LIKE A GOOD LITTLE LUNATIC.
disco_beets, +luster shine, who#lesome image}, vivid thought process, ang3l like *vocals*, manic dr.umming; beniiign chaos. =truth. guitar chords: "wild im@gination. wi$dom, !anarchy. methodica|, predictable, u-nusual,
e_lab recording journal, take 1. ((notes taken from sessions august 7th-11th, 2000))
FLUTTER shows up after driving .000000397 million hours from chicago, illinois. thats too bad. we talk. FLUTTER wakes up monday morning and proceeds to blow my mind. im not quite sure she's human. all she wants to do is work, work, work though. i like to play 4-square, tetherball, dodge ball, football, soccer, badminton, volleyball, skeet shooting, racquetball, biking, hiking, mooning, dancing, drinking. this sucks. im stuck in 2 6 4 4 with a workaholic. just what i need. what does 2 6 4 4 stand for anyways??? sometime during this process we realize we're breathing in each others air, sucking out all the oxygen from the room. we also realize that both of us can talk right through the other persons thoughts. sometimes, there are 2 or 3 simultaneous conversations going between us. a biggerman wont get you too far.
/ t+a are superpowers /
this continues throughout the week. we lay down the groundwork for the FLUTTER original tracks DREAMING IN THE DARK and DEAD BODY. i quickly discover she has a penchant for songs that start with the letter 'd'.
the new 3_lab trax start innocently enough, with the rousing (and drag queen inducing) record-ing of the new song DIRTY. what a pretty song. this song makes me feel like a delicious piece of disco biscuit cake under glass. it feels like rocket fuel for diesel dykes. ...and thats good. then we almost accidentally start to slide into the laborious nude-ish TONGUES. where is this road taking us? swerving from pumping disco right to throbbing 90 bpm oily residue turns out to be not only fun, but also slick. this song is slick.
you'll see, theyll break your wings in time.
you'll see, they;ll see right through your smile.
FLUTTER and i realize we cannot do MY NOCTURNE (another beautiful flutter-solo recording) without the music, so that will have to be done later. she then wants to go right into DAYGLO. while im busy crying over spilled milk, i realize that this is the way DAYGLO was supposed to sound from the beginning. finally, an almost 3 year old song has found a home. before, it was just wandering around my c: and d: and e: drive. now, its been brought out and re-inflated. im thinking to myself 'where did this little half-pint of boundless energy get the necessary 3 lungs that its taking to sing like this?'... at one point, i stop her and pat her down. she wasnt so keen on that, so she kicked me in the jaw. what a girl.
this is starting to take shape.
its sounding like flutter vs. e_lab vs. flutter with flutter clearly in the lead by a length... its sounding slightly sinister. its sounding deadly. it smells big in here! it looks dark though. isnt it better with the lights off?
eating. eating is good. drinking is good too. sleep is an unnecessary evil. lack of sleep makes almost everything funnier. especially eating. ginseng and wild berry fruizle pretty much rule.
the groundwork for songs like the tentatively titled "CONFORM/STRIPPERspill/POUR" and SNEAKSTEAL are being laid. we've stared at the same song now for at least 5 hours, and its getting better. its cool to be able to write, record vox, rewrite, rewire, drum along to, diskodance to and wrench a song into place. thank god for the renaissance compressor limiter, right? we talk synths. hours pass. the song is still there. we grab lunches, dinners, breakfasts, and take required smoke breaks, even though neither of us smoke. we discuss business. we discuss plans. we discuss boygirl bands. we dissect each other. we finish each others lyrics. we wait. we wonder. we sit still, but not very often. we are sharklike. i adjust the mic stand for the 38th time, while i think to myself that somehow sometimes she is 6'3" and sometimes only 14" tall.
<<<...when i could walk right through it>>>
after the jaw kick, i learn not to question. she shows me her wings. i break them. i show her my smile and tell her my mouth is dry. she punches me in the face and says matter-of-factly 'there, now youve got your own blood to moisten your mouth'. amazingly, flutter can speak as well as she can sing. i dont know why ive been able to seduce her into my vocal booth, and what she's been doing with her voice all these years. her motivation is starting to get to me, so i quietly slip sleeping aid and roofies into her morning tea(s). i dont think its slowing her down any. i take some drugs to bring myself up to her level. i think its working.
|(((open up your mouth and
pour, after all thats what im for. )))
she sings me DISILLUSIONMENT, and i suggest that it goes on the new record. that has yet to be decided. i show her SWALLOW2 (which is called swallow2 because its the second version of it, so from now on, i'll call it just SWALLOW)
"you know me, same old thing, never change, go away, come again, i still remain."
'tongues' is coming along. wait. tongues is recorded! sweet!!! sneaksteal needs work in order to earn the bold print.
whats the tally?
my nocturne <<<music needed.
(CONFORM) .... working title
sin (pitched to her from this end and started)
later potential songs:
SAVE_ME (recently given to flutter as a gift.)
already done songs potentially for 3_lab:
to me, its just music. an outside agitator might speculate on its awareness of itself. lyrically, its all over the place, more about others, and less about me. maybe this is sounding like a grown-up SEXY.ROBOTS. maybe its just sounding jet-set and spaceage. i think its sporadic, complicated, and a good follow up. we're into songs with verses and chorus' and closings that sound like they should be their own new song. the record is a mess now. its got genuine real feedback laden heavy distorted guitars. its got real drums. its more paranoid. its more egocentric, less cliche. its got less faggy songs. its got no raging guitar riffs, i'll leave that to the buttmumblers in BOMB_CONGRESS. its got happy. its got mad. its got glorious. it got dance. its fulllll of things. you wont believe what youre hearing. COVER THAT IN 10 years.
thats a great line. now its friday, and i just dropped her back off at or near her ride home. im listening to the results of the week, wondering why my jaw hurts, my shins hurt, and my ego is bruised and wonder how i got so lucky to get to spend this time with FLUTTER. her karate is very much the good. she is one hell of a fast ring pop eater. it only takes her 3 licks!
the house is empty now; just the remainder of resonating chants that are still ringing in my ear. maybe my ghost friend will come back now. we didnt have enough time. we didnt get enough done. theres more to do. too much to say. ive got cleaning to do. ive got deconstruction to do. ive got a calculated chaos patch to whip into shape. what will i do now? i'll most likely remix some flutter stuff then go whitewater rafting, but please dont tell her.
now comes the easy part: getting the results to my favorite german pet rock for his secret ingredients. thats just what this batch is calling for.
caution: you might have to hear this webpage and study it many times to get the full effect please.
1.) hotdogs or hamburgers?
did you just ask me black or white?
marco: If it makes me smile, it's ok.
marco: Sean Penn
marco: Sean Connery.
marco: The empire strikes back.
marco: Stroke "First In...", XL-Recordings.
marco: Lots of italian antipasti, some milk, white-wine, and my underwear.
shane: this interview.
marco: Nicotine, coffeine. Some paper I ate
this morning. Don't ask me why I did this. As usual.
shane: ho hum.
wake me up when you ask a good question, ok?
marco: Italian food, definitely. Chinese eat
dogs, italians just eat Chinese.
marco: Big red, they're new over here.
marco: I have nothing to say.
themselves to my music. The lyrics come from my experiences and opinions about what I see wrong in our world...mostly from the feminist side of me. I'm not angry. I'm passionate. If I didn't feel it necessary to elaborate on the little things, then I may as well not live.
marco: Why not.
marco: I haven't met them yet. Maybe next year.
shane: the internet.
18.) other interviewers have commented that you are
difficult to nail down on a subject. is that true?
marco: Well, the weather is nice today, I hope it will stay as good as today forthe next few days. In fact, other regions in germany seem to have better climatic conditions, but on the other hand: WHO CARES.
19.) if you could ask yourself something in this interview, what would that be?
flutter: why am i so sensitive about the work of other female recording artists?
marco: Gender? Age? Sexual interests? Gear?
Stuff like that.
marco: If I wasn't straight as hell: Yes.
marco: Don't ask me.
(Reprinted with kind permission)
"It's either 'undefined' or 'infinity', depending upon what school of thought you subscribe to..."
how the interview starts. This girl I just met, just now, says that to me, I
think to myself if I even ASKED a question at all, and what the hell am I
supposed to say now? I say just "Hello"...the most unusual beginning I've ever
encountered. Flutter, the personality behind the schematics in the electro-band
3_lab, is a tough character to describe. First, you dont expect the voice youve
listened to on your cd player to come out of THAT little body. where does she
hide all that pent up rage, perfect pitch, operatic lungs, and breathy vocal
chords? The next thing that doesnt fit the picture you've painted in your head
is that shes overly polite, sun-shiny, and a great big bowl of happy-hood. blech.
Thats SO uncool in the year 2000. I'll let it pass today though. It's gloomy
today, and frankly, I need more sunshine. The music vs. her vocal styles also
arch and push uncomfortably away from each other, but still somehow fit. The
music gives you a ground to walk on, but the vocals make you run along, chasing
something thats clearly too fast for you, but you try it anyways. She hails from
Chicago, a city in the United States thats known for being windy; maybe thats
where she's got the powerful voice from? Chicago is also known as a working
class town; she's got that in her as well. Could it be that this little
chameleon girl adapts overly well to her environment? "I've always stuck out,
and sometimes its made me feel awkward... but you know the artist drill, right?"
Indeed. This little powerhouse of sound in a tight little package just doesnt
fit. It's like walking into a small house and once you get in the door theirs 40
foot ceilings and an elevator; it doesnt match.
up to something? She wears that charming little grin that says she's up to
something. I half expect her to pull out a super soaker
2000 and drench me. Shes gigling nervously like someone is going to sneak up behind me, kneel down, and then she's going to push me over them. Whats that called? She makes good smalltalk, but then immediately comments on the color of a Porsche that just zooms by in front of us. She bolts, then spews "You would think that if you're going to spend THAT much on a car, at least you'd get a color that doesnt say 'I have a small penis, so I'm going to buy this big bright Porsche'!"---all while looking into my eyes so deep she's reading my thoughts. She knows my answer, I don't have to say it, and she knows it. And this is maddening me even more. Shes a country girl in the big city;
even I can tell that.
only 1:00pm... " she says. Did I detect a connotation of boredom in that
thought? I've been to her website; listened to her musical
thoughts. I've even passively read other interviews with her and her band. I've seen her live. I can make jokes with her, hold a conversation about pretty much anything. But somehow, I feel like I'm 13 years old and I'm talking to a teacher in Junior High School that I have a crush on: I can't seem to think of anything to say. When in doubt, turn to alchohol to loosen up the mood. For some reason, I'm on the defensive; it's almost like she's hunting me, she's a cat toying with me. I'm completely out of interesting things to say, so I spill out this, its a sure thing: "Hey, you wanna get some drinks? Im buying!" Surely that will loosen us up, get us back on track, make me think more clearly. Boy, was I wrong. She says, again (this time I notice she's said it), "It's only 1:00pm!" (like this party girl hasn't ever consumed beverages at this time of day), then, swerving to the other side of stream-of-consciousness, says politely, shyly, and in the smallest voice she can muster says "sorry, I've got another appointment in twenty minutes..."
Then, out of the blue, just like that, clearly sorry for turning me down, she reaches over and grabs my hand and holds it. I'm ready for her to shake it goodbye and then zoom away in a spaceship somewhere more important, but no, she's reaching into her purse now. She's looking for something. What's in this goddesses purse? I peek. I pry. I shouldn't have done that. What do I see? I see a mirror (I think), I see some lipstick, I see some cash, and I see some cigarettes... "Those are for someone else! And stop looking in my purse! ", She's caught me looking into her private things; behind her scenes, seeing if her words are true "ALL ARE DIRTY" I'm turning red, and wondering what she's going to do with my hand. She's found a pen, ballpoint. She starts to write on my hand, then looks at me with that smile. At this point, she could stab me in the eyeball with it, it wouldnt matter, in fact, I'd probably laugh and thank her for it. She's writing something on my hand.
Her number? Her hotel room? No, its a great big FLUTTER logo, cartoon style. Then, she's drawing a woman sitting. The woman has wings. Something is captioned out of the womans' mouth.
1 divided by 0
then, it all makes sense.