Torture, hate crimes, extortion and fraud. Right around the corner on Robie Street! Who woulda figured.
Got off work last night and bailed out right away in the hopes of catching up with the Hunter Street party. Alas, everyone had already left, so they could all go to the Attic and drink their asses off and end up getting kicked out of the bar for heckling a jam band.
Doing sound upstairs at the Marquee Club every night this week. My job is chewing me up, I’m missing all the fun.
Last night just for something to do I tried mixing a hiphop show using no compression whatsoever. I learned something I already knew: hiphop requires compression. Too much dynamic range.
Mostly because every MC in the world has terrible mic technique, and half the time they’ll be cupping the ball of the microphone and trying to rap through their knuckles so it’s all “mumble mumble check my flow mumble mumble mumble” and the next minute it’s “Everybody say HO-OHHHHHH” and I’m watching with four fingers pulling back the faders as all my meters jump into the red.
When I say BORING
You say CLICHE
Everybody say HO-OHHHH