As was long announced here, the Anonymous Somebodies recorded on the 12th, 13, and 19th of December. The first day was a real struggle of becoming accustomed to the studio setting. For lack of time, I won’t go into how and why it’s different; just trust me, it is. Because the first day was such a real struggle, we re-recorded all five songs that we did that day during the next two days. They clicked so much better with a days experience behind us. . .
The 13th went well, after the first two songs of the morning, that is. We ended up with eight songs recorded on that day, leaving seven for the next friday. Here’s a quote from an email that I sent to a cousin that describes the last Friday. . .:
“It was a good time. We finished our final 7 songs in 4.5 hours and then went to eat lunch. Lunch was a real celebration. We were done! and it was time to party!!!!!!!! I basically stuffed myself with food and drank lots of pop and coffee. [i.e. Highly caffeinated drinks] We spent the afternoon doing some preliminary mixing. We got a cd to listen to and make notes with, then we’ll go back down on Jan. 3 for the final mixing. I’m happy to be done, and think it’ll be worth listening to. . .”
Here are several pics. . .
During the boring part of the mixing process that we did on the 19th, the girls fell asleep.
Thank you, friends and relations, for thinking and praying for us as we sang our songs, and worshiped God. It was because you prayed that the recording went as well as it did. As a brief side note, directly after lunch on the last day, my throat began to feel rough. As the afternoon progressed, it became evident that my throat was well on its way to becoming totally shot. I feel confident that your prayers on our behalf kept our spiritual and physical health in good condition and prowess for those three intense days.
May the road rise up to meet you,
may the wind be ever at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face
and the rain fall softly on your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.
thesinger