The small company I work for is leasing a new space. From the street there's an abandoned mental hospital vibe: white peeling paint on four pillars in front of a red door, rotted brick, rusted chicken wire over windows. Winter is always gray tinged here, the sun distant even on clear days. The Mill will look much the same regardless of season with lumpy asphalt from sidewalk to foundation. Through the red door and a small dark foyer lies a long rectangular space with high ceilings. Walls a crisp white with black doors lined up on the left. Wide planks of pale wood set diagonally into the floor. Sharp lines, no shadows.

 Through a short hallway in the back, around a few dim twists and turns, a kitchen, bathrooms, more decayed paint and water stained walls, large windows set high and covered with cloudy plastic sheets glowing yellow and gray. Footsteps should leave small mushroom dust clouds.

One last doorway and the space opens up. At least sixty feet wide and... Long? It doesn't end. Ceilings are warehouse high. The building stretches back for a half mile, more, I don't know. S. and I dragged in some equipment, amplifiers, guitar, analogue sequencer, keyboard, equipped for a full on sonic assault. We played from eight until three in the morning, minus a few breaks and bouts of discursive dialogue. We found some low frequencies that seemed to rattle the world. I got to turn my big amp all the way up and discovered that two hundred watts is a lot of sound. I played until skin started to flake from my fingertips. We may even have made some music. Tomorrow night we do it again.

Date: 2012-12-23 09:37 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] therainingtree
Nice that the company lets you use the space, assuming they know about it. Or is this a recording studio to start with?

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