Hilarious that this popped up today as I was just remembering this story the other day and was kinda hoping a thread would come up that I could tell it haha. This isn’t a “why I quit”, but more of a “why I fired” story.
Back in the day, when I was first building my studio, I used to dry record everything directly into the laptop through my cheap PA system, so I had no mixer, preamps, compressors, reverb anything like that.
I used to do it all in post. Pretty simple to explain, I’m sure any reasonable person could understand it. Anyhoo the setup was
Me: Guitar and Bass and drum work/ writing the music
My best friend (Let’s call him Rambo): Guitar and drum work/ backup vocals/ writing music and lyrics
Our former friend Josh (the subject of today’s story): Lead Singer/ would try to write lyrics
Another friend: Keyboardist and Programming
So Josh was a sensitive little baby, we were 22/23 and the time, Josh was 25... with the mentality of a brooding teenager, couldn’t date a girl older than 18 that wasn’t an Emo scene girl and still in High School, worked as a Piercer at Tattoo shops, changed his facial arrangement of Piercings and Hair dye about twice weekly (he was basically Dez from Coal Chamber).
So when we would record our demos, Josh and Rambo would record their parts then I would say something like “ok, gonna run it through the effects” or “Ima master this and throw it in the mix” or something to that extent. Well Joshy here couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of why a vocal track needed preamps or effects of any sort. He would flip out at the mere mention of “effects” screaming that his voice was perfect and each take was perfect and would never do more than 1 take on a part. And no matter how many times we would explain to him how microphones work and how recording works, he would say, oh ok ok I get it, my bad, then 10 mins later he would flip again after another recording. Mind blowing.
So one day we’re all sitting there working on some new stuff, and I had an acoustic part that I recorded and was playing for everyone. Well the blast of inspiration hit Josh right in the temples, he was on a roll, he actually came up with some lyrics that were pretty decent right off the top of his head. So afterwards I handed him our little spiral notebook and said, “hey, write those down!!!”. Aaaaaaand nothing.
“Man, I was in the zone on that one, I can’t remember a single thing I said” he boasted.
Hmmm, that’s weird, we all thought, “Well do you think you can remember if we play it back and record you?” I asked. to which he replied yes and we did. This produced a pretty decent start of something to work on, but his playback was way past max volume in the mix and barely able to hear without turning the rest way down, so I said, I’ll run it through some “effects” and double it real quick.
OOOOOOOO NNNNOOOOOO I SAID THE MAGIC BUZZ TRIGGER WORD!
Joshy decided He had, had enough and he took that spiral notebook I handed to him earlier, Metal spiral side out and whacked me right across my head screaming about his voice Bering PERFECT!
At this point, we were there for hours, hungry and I had a splitting headache already. It took every part of me to not go full blown Christmas Story on him.
Rajja fragga no good fajja , you get it. So I calmly said, that’s enough for today, practice is over, everyone piled in my car and we left. En route to car I turned to Rambo and everyone else and said “he’s gone”. While heading to his apartment first, I finally flipped and called him out for hitting me with notebook spirals when I had a headache because he’s too stupid to understand how recording works even after it’s been explained over and over. Are you ready for his genius response? You sure you can handle this gem? Apparently had I not had the headache, everything would have been all honkey dorey. He screamed “oh sorry man, I didn’t know you had a headache”
Anyway, got to his apartment, kicked him and he creepy HS Sophomore girlfriend out (remember he’s 25) of my car, who I hear he eventually knocked up, idk how this dude isn’t in jail, and fired the living eph out of him. Me, nor Rambo, nor any of us have talked to him since.
Good times.