Legend has it that Bob Dylan contributed a few lines to what became “The Weight.” He added them on the community living room typewriter in the Big Pink, the house he shared with members of The Band in 1967 located at 56 Parnassus Lane in Saugerties, New York. What was born was the following contribution verse: Crazy Chester followed me, and he caught me in the fog. He said, “I will fix your rack, if you’ll take Jack, my dog.” Wow, man. Groovy.
What always intrigued me about this story was the idea of the typewriter that sat for extended periods of time and how band members would contribute lyrics randomly, intermittently and perhaps incongruously. The resultant patchwork and pastiche would be cobbled together and voila! A song. Maybe even a good one.
My digital recorder sits on my desk. The record pause light blinks incessantly. I love the idea of recording thoughts intermittently. Stopping. And recording anew and again. The seamless recording shows no physical partitions as in sound cracks or breaks. The only way the listener would know that recorded pieces or tracks were in fact different might be the nature and subject matter. If done correctly, one could produce, say, 100 separate conversations that are laid end to end with no formal interstitial connectors. The result is either a blended patchwork wave of thought or a confused and schizophrenic mélange of blather.
I must admit, I’m rather partial to the latter.