I’m not a Bruce Kulick, Eddie Van Halen, Randy Rhoads, or even a Malcolm Young (before tragedy struck him), but I’m pretty damn good for someone with severe brain damage.
I’m composing again, after many years of not.
Why? I suppose it’s because I need to. I have to remain busy in one way or another, while I wait for the Master’s program at University of Phoenix to begin, and this little piece actually took roughly twenty minutes for me to get it nearly to how I wanted it to sound-at least from a structural viewpoint. From an electronic viewpoint, the quality is almost as bad as a Panasonic tape recorder from 1984, but a small computer microphone is what you use when you have to sell used toilet paper on the poor side of town for gas money.
There are two challenges with in regards to composition. The first is remembering the chord progression, since I have the short-term memory of a funnel, and the second is to remember how I wanted it to sound.
There are some things which go through my mind as I listen to this recording loop on my laptop. The first is that this seems to have a raw 1970’s AC/DC sound-back when Bon Scott was still alive. The second is that I’m really surprised that I recorded this on the first take with almost no mistakes.
I don’t understand why the sound seems to cut out at :11 into the recording, because I didn’t move at all, but I guess I’ll figure it out eventually.
The equipment I used for this recording was a Fender Strat Squire, a Peavey Envoy 110 amplifier, and a DOD Hard Rock Distortion FX57, as my Jackson and my Fender acoustic are currently in storage in Irvine, California, along with my Boss DS-1, which I bought in 1985.
The Fender Strat Squire and Peavey Envoy 110 are what you will always hear until further notice whenever I decide to throw one of these recordings on this page.
You, the reader, are probably wondering why I decided to do this. C’mon, man. I can’t do all politics all the time. Even someone like me has to mix it up a bit. In addition, this is further proof that someone with a developmental disability can actually do something and be useful in the world.
Right, Crescent Hardy of Nevada?
Ah, let him burn in Hell. He will soon enough, I’m quite certain.