This week’s album working title: “Quit Palin games with my heart”.
We escape from New York to find the mammoth fridge that houses our provisions in Bridgeport has broken. No exciting explosion to report, just a quiet crossing over to an afterlife for defunct kitchen appliances. Had we foreseen this, we could have asked it to say hello to the Homer Simpson sandwich toaster that gave up on Justin days before he left Old Blighty, but as stated in an earlier dispatch, Fanfarlo are proficient at overcoming such setbacks and we battle on regardless and milk-less.
Recording this week was speedy and productive. We gained momentum by adopting Peter Katis’s philosophy of “More is more” to plough through seven songs in five days, including new songs “Luna”, “Drowning Men” and “Chai, Bitch!”
Midweek, ideas and preparation for Halloween outfits started to rear their ghoulish heads. Most of us were excited by this prospect, but Justin found the bourgeois activity of “fancy dress” undignified and embarrassing. His case in point: our engineer Greg dressed up as Fred Flintstone. On Halloween night, Cathy and Simon caught the party train to NYC while the rest of us went to a house party in neighbouring New Haven with the Flintstones and Rubbles.
Mark "Last Minute Costume", Greg "Fred Flintstone", Wilma Flintstone, a Gladiator, Amos "The Burlap Mummy" and Justin (slit wrists are out of shot) at the Rubbles' Halloween party
At the weekend, we travelled to our new friend Pamela’s hip Brooklyn warehouse apartment (anything to avoid those bedsprings in Harlem) where a second Halloween party was thrown.
Pamela, her cat, Fanfarlo and an abnormally large remote control in Pamela's loft in Brooklyn
Simon as Adam Ant in NYC
Nursing sore heads and a mild case of alcohol poisoning, we reconvened by Track 24 of Grand Central Station on Monday morning to return to Tarquin Studios for our final week of recording. With the presidential election a mere day away from its climax, we hope it’ll distract us from the fact that our project still has the potential to spiral into complete disaster, and that we’re all miserable and are ready to go home.
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