update on third INDORIA release

just a quick note: work is progressing on the third INDORIA release and the first recording session has been scheduled for late January. Adam and I have been passing bits and pieces of material for about 12 different songs, but will probably target 6 or 7 to finish for this disc. He is still in Tennessee so “getting together” has been tough. I will say that some of these songs are a cool departure from our last 2 cd’s and I think Adam, Michele, and me are hitting our stride as we really learn each others strengths. one song in particular titled, “just let me” has really taken on a life of it’s own, and when you hear Michele’s final vocal tracks you will love it too…yes that’s a guarantee.

i know news has been sparse, but i promise you…we aren’t just laying around…

doug

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price to pay

ok,

tonight i am continuing my rewriting work on my mountain novel…so…i do have a blog post planned for science non-fiction part three…but…instead i’m going to post another random song that I think/hope you’ll enjoy and have the weekend to make the blogpost better…this is a song called, “price to pay” it was originally the fastest/heaviest song the band the firmary had in its arsenal, but we decided to take a crack at a mellow version. we never ended up recording a heavy version with the exception of a live show recorded by adam probert at the symposium. this is a demo version from ~2006. I can’t recall the exact time of the recording. I can only recall William fed me some wine made by one of his friends.

enjoy(and write comments i’m curious how this song turned out…if it sucks let me know)

douglas esper

 

Price to Pay(demo)

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it’s a dirty song, but someone have to cover it.

ok,

so this song I am posting is a cover of WE CARE A LOT by the best band of all time FAITH NO MORE. It was released on a tribute to faith no more about 9 years ago. we recorded and mixed the song in about 6 hours and the group of guys had never rehearsed once. the song was supposed to be recorded by INDORIA the band i was in at the time, but because of band drama it never happened…so, i scrambled and made a few calls and brought a rag-tag group of misfits together and this is what we came up with. the recording sessions was from midnight till 6am. needless to say it got a little goofy near the end. big thanks to the guys who stepped up and got this done. it was fun.

We Care A Lot by Esper’s Obsession

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Science Non-fiction (part 2)

It was one of those days, you know, that drag on and get worse by the minute. I was behind at work, stressed at home, and the only thing positive about my writing was that I hadn’t had the opportunity to screw it up yet.

I found myself at a hospital in Westlake, Ohio sweating out the previous nights cheap scotch, wondering just how bad the Browns were going to be, and unsure if I had applied any deodorant that morning.

With a quick sniff affirming my fears, I grimaced, and walked back toward the third floor stairwell so I could grab some DME from my truck. (For those that don;t know my glamorous day job involves delivering DURABLE MEDICAL EQUIPMENT)

In my experience, I have learned that life usually sends the cool moments when they are completely unexpected, and though I realize my version of cool does not match with the masses, I still think many of you will appreciate this.

Opening the door to the stairs I noticed a man walking down the steps just a few paces ahead of me. My mind started racing as I took in the man and I wondered if I had finally broken through the barrier into the movies that I keep expecting to shatter.

The man was a short, slender, African American man with a mustache and enough hair to make me jealous. (Note: It does not take much hair to make me jealous) He was wearing a light green one piece work uniform and he had a spark in his step as if he alone could hear Cab Calloway over a non-existent loudspeaker.

Already, I wished I was this man. Happy, go-lucky guy without a care in the world, but it got better from there.

Upon his back, the man carried a large circular object like a jet pack straight from the Rocketeer or Boba Fett’s closet. I looked behind me to assure myself I wasn’t on some hidden camera television show being pranked by my wife as true realization grabbed hold.

I didn’t need confirmation to know who this man was. I had seen this backpack system and uniform before. This man was a ghostbuster!

The unmowed lawn was forgotten, the rejected query letters lost their power, and what leaking sink could you be talking about? My life is great, no worries. Dude, do you realize how awesome the ghostbusters are? Have you ever thought about meeting one-let alone maybe being one, one day? Of course you have. Don’t bother to deny it.

I wanted to call out to the man and thank him for his service. I wanted to call my wife and let her know the movies were real just like I said they were. I wanted to get his autograph and call my buddy Matty G to brag, I wanted to tell him about the time I saw ghosts in my old house in Buffalo, New York, I wanted to be a ghostbuster.

Frozen with excitement, I used every ounce of patience I had to hold myself back from doing anything rash. I was three steps behind the man trying to decide if I should quote the movie or sing the theme song, or simply ask him what Egon was really like in person.

We rounded the last flight of stairs before we would reach the ground floor and I knew my window of opportunity was shrinking.

I know what you’re thinking and yes I realized that he couldn’t just come out and tell me he was a ghostbuster because then everyone would want his autograph and a picture with their crappy cellphones and in the meantime whatever ghost he was chasing would get away scott-free. Yes, I get it. But we are talking about a real life ghostbuster.

In a surprising and rare moment of my life I decided I had to respect what the man was doing and help him keep his cover. If he wanted to pretend the pack on his back was a vacuum, so be it. As long as I knew the score.

We descended the stairs in silence never making eye contact, in fact, I am not even sure the man knew I was there. Until…

The man pushed the door part way open and stopped. He glanced back at me as I stepped off the last stair and onto the ground. Closing the door, he smiled, nodded, and said, “Who you gonna call?”

I raised my hands in the air in excitement and exclaimed, “Yes!” Then I continued, “I knew who you were and I wanted to say something, but I didn’t want to upset you. You just made my day, week, and month.”

His smile widened and he nodded again, all business. As I lowered my hands and attempted to regain my composure the man reopened the door and exited the stairwell leaving me alone once again.

I had so many questions, but, in the end, I knew all I needed to know. They are out there.

Thank you Ghostbusters, thank you.

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one of the worst inventions ever.

Some one pointed out to me that i haven’t posted in awhile except for contests and snippets of my writing, so I decided it was time to discuss what was on everybody’s mind. I think its high time we get this subject out in the open and get everyone on the same page:

Being one those, “creative types” I was born with a very very fragile ego and self confidence especially as it relates to my creative endeavors. whether the criticism is directed toward my vocal shortcomings, my cliched lyrical content, my horrendous spelling and grammar, or any other number of faults that I have, it hurts when some one puts me down.

The reason I bring that up is that I have “tried” to live a life that minimizes my attacks at other peoples creativity and ambitions.  Do I enjoy country music? No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t respect Kenny Rodgers desire to gamble and then sing about it. Do I understand how Lady Gaga can be taken seriously as an artist by the public, hell no, but if her heart is telling her what she does is original and important than who am I to say otherwise?

BUT

There is a line that has been crossed and I feel a burning desire to call out one of the worst inventions of all time. Single-ply toilet paper…

Seriously folks, who is still making, purchasing, and using single-ply toilet paper in this day and age? When it was first invented shouldn’t there have immediately been a quality check-person to hold up their hands and bust up the whole idea from the get-go?

When I walk into a bathroom and discover single-ply the first thing I do is remember never to occupy that establishment ever again. Sorry if you are a friend of mine that uses single-ply and you’re realizing this is the single reason our friendship has ended, but come on man…double that ply! (And then invite me back over)

Single-ply does nothing good for anyone, so though I don;t like to be needy, I am going to ask all of you readers…stamp out single-ply toilet paper…the worst invention ever!

(do you have a “better” worst invention ever? email me what it is and your reasoning and I will post the best answer as a guest blog post…douglas@douglasesper.com

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