The Recipe for Success is not dissimilar to The Recipe for ‘Lean.

Next time you’re headed to a studio session to work on your personal project starting at 10pm, and you want things to head in an even weirder direction than they already are, then try this! It worked for me…

The anticipation on any given day that I’m headed to work in the studio is typically similar to the anticipation that a kid feels when going to Six Flags on his first day of Summer: Maximum Stoke Level Orange. Granted, my career is that of a musician. I’m constantly in and out of the studio. Shit, I have one in my house. But the frequency of being able to be behind the red light and lost inside of a new idea never overshadows my basic juvenile enthusiasm for it.

I’ve been working on a (cringe) “solo project” with my dear friend, Adam Lasus. He’s made things with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Daniel Johnston, PJ Harvey, Helium, Orbans, etc. I know, right?! Anyways, we’ve been starting the sessions pretty late at night, as that’s the most creative time for me personally. Needless to say, I was beyond psyched last night as the ideas were channeling from my brain to my hands to the instrument through the speakers and then back into my ears. Its the Circle of Life and I’m Simba.

Me, apparently high on 'lean, recording guitar for the Son of Stan record

Here’s where the extra weird part comes in. Though my mind was racing and I was as happy as a cartoon pig in chocolate pudding jumping from axe to axe following the muse (barf), my body didn’t seem to be joining the party. I mean I was weak. I could barely move, and I knew something was wrong. I started thinking to myself: “Is that last kick ass DI guitar part I just put down actually making me have a stroke? What the fuck is happening?” I started kind of freaking out. And I say ‘kind of’ because it was the most polite, subdued and mellow slow motion freak out that anyone could imagine… mushrooms not included. Ok. Why am I excited? Because I’m making cool things. Ok. Why can I barely move? Um…this one I couldnt figure it out. I was scared. Not really. But kind of.

Then it hit me. Eureka. (note the lack of exclamation after ‘Eureka’). It hit me Like a ton of clay bricks. If clay bricks were made out of pillows. And if a ton were 6. Before I left my house I was feeling a bit ‘run down’ and though I typically dont like pounding medicines, I knew I would need to be cleared up so I could sing my musical numbers into the recording microphone with at least marginal success…So I opened my medicines cabinet, grabbed the multi pack DayQuil/NyQuil box, fussed with the childproof foil mechanism and swallowed two gelcaps as quick as Keanu. But my child, I did not take the DayQuil pills necessary to traverse the next 6 hours of rock and roll philadelhpia-style freedom. I dopeishly took the Beddytime johns. I mean, green means go, right? Nope. Green means later bitch. That shit is strong.

Couch-locked on the same davenport that has also graced Juliana Hatfield’s and PJ Harvey’s rear situations, I realized the error of my ways…Panicked, as to not lose my momentum, I immediately downed a) 1 bottle of orange crystal geyser carbonated water b) 1/2 a bar of 90% cocoa chocolate and c) a giant mug of Trader Joe’s organic Green Tea what-not…As you can imagine my recipe for combatting my failing vitals didnt exactly work like a charm, but rather aided in my already severe case of crazy head. And though my throat was clear, my stomach was now simultaneously as full as my bladder.

I continued to work, fighting the Alice In wonderland dream like scenario, being eternally enthused and grateful but outwardly took the appearance of just shy of Edgar Allen Poe, post opium binge.

Turns out, however, that what transpired after the melee definitely proved to be the coolest musical moment of the session so far.

So, what I’m saying is: Do Drugs! Not really. But whatever. If you want. I’m not a role model.