by Peter Berryman
Sudden Miss Worm Voice
My dear sister Susannah, pictured above in Appleton in 1958, is now a fabulous actor and director, and Associate Professor of Theatre Arts at Ithaca College in Ithaca, NY. She is one of my favorite writers. Up until now she hasn't written many songs (that she's told me about anyway), but she called the other day, set down the phone, and played the piano while singing two excellent new gems for me over the wires.
I loved them and wondered if she could record them for me. What follows is a great discussion of the pitfalls, and some of the thrills, of home recording, by Susannah Berryman. That this was just a tossed-off email, not meant for publication, amazed me, and I had to ask her if I could use it. It has been edited and rearranged EVER so slightly for space, and is reprinted here with her gracious permission:
I have to tell you about my funny little recording setup that I'm using. The cassette deck is an old Wollensack that my friend scrounged four of from a hallway in Cornell where they had put them all on the trash. He parceled them out to his friends. It needed a little repair but is reputed to be a pretty good, if out of date, machine. I have a cheapo plug-in mic, which I was originally sticking in my bra to keep it from picking up too much piano, too little voice, but I thought I was getting noises from my movements and the movements of my shirt; also I thought I was contorting my neck subconsciously to sing more toward it. So I grabbed a bamboo back scratcher and a little plastic clamp I'd picked up for 50 cents last year at Home Depot, clamped the mic into the little hand on the back scratcher and stuck the other end of the back scratcher through the wrought iron twisted slats of a standing lamp next to the piano, and fiddled until I got the angle and distance decent. I look and sound like a bit of a clown but I have to say I am having the time of my life. Even those moments when it comes out sounding like someone twisting a cat's tail I am still having a rip-snorting good time. Yaaa----hooooo!!!!... [But] What I have been learning, with increasing awe and 20% frustration/80% hilarity, is THE NUMBER OF DIFFERENT THINGS THAT CAN GO WRONG!:
--in the same way that in driver's ed they tell you that if you start to run off the road, keep looking where you are hoping to go rather than looking at the guard rail, because if you look at the guard rail you will inadvertantly turn toward it, I have learned that if my fingers go onto the wrong keys I start to sing subtly in the direction of those keys, also, so suddenly I am either flatting or sharping. Thus, a piano mistake that could have been easily glossed over becomes the instigation of a whole train wreck
--used tape is crappy quality
--used tape had overwrite protectors punched out and I forgot to look
--piano decent, voice crap
--voice decent, piano crap
--voice crap, piano crap
--voice accurate and not too squawky, but no liveliness or specificity of imagery
--pitch in hell
--jaw tight, holding note on consonants
--jaw tight, voice strident
--forgot lyrics
--midway through phrase, changed mind about which draft of lyrics was singing: articulation train wreck
--bored dog hits left wrist with paw to be taken out for pee, knocks fingers off keys
--too close to mic
--too far from mic
--hit mic with something
--too lazy to print up new copy with only one key typed in, eye jumped to transposed chord by mistake, started playing in other key
--phone rings in middle of good take
--phone rings in middle of bad take
--tape runs out in middle of ditto
--last phrase of quite reputable take, fingers have total klutz attack on keys, causes singer to break out in loud barky laugh in manner of Janis Joplin after "Bobby McGee"
--song in 2 parts: first part lively and fun, second part drops dead
--song in 2 parts: second part nicely vivid, first part flat as piss on a pancake
--song in 2 parts: first part boring but clean, second part boring but clean; instrumental bridge total dump of disaster
--images suddenly come to life: vivid, expressive, so much so that singer suddenly bursts into tears and abandons song
--kind of blah take, but starting to gain concentration; dog gets itchy ear and shakes head and metal tags for fifteen seconds
--mic mispositioned, head thrust ensues, throat, neck, and jaw bunch up
--sudden urge to try new tune causes wholesale ill-advised improvizations
--phlegm attack
--not bad take overall but sudden strange urge causes insertion of ill-advised "stylizing" move resulting in take sounding like Las Vegas lounge lizard act or parody thereof
--comparatively not-so-bad take discovered, might just be a contender, in playing it back fat finger presses record as well as play and puts gap in tape in manner of Nixon's secretary
--weird buzzing on tape for no identifiable reason
--weird humming on tape for no identifiable reason
--weird shrill whistle on tape for no identifiable reason
--take #16, for example, might be contender; miscue tape for #17 and record over end of #16
--sudden Miss Worm voice breaks out
--fingers go on auto pilot, suddenly jump back to rhythm in earlier iteration of song
--whole damn thing just sounds like hell for no special reason
That last point in particular pretty much sums up my career. Must be in the genes. Thank you Susannah! PS, No pressure, but I'm still waiting for the tape...
