So, this track is a good example of a positive outcome coming, obliquely, from an apparently negative event. I was on a business trip to Tokyo in December 2012, and thoroughly looking forward to getting back to the relative sanity of Singapore. On my final day in the office, I was meeting with a colleague to discuss my new role, any issues she had in her area that I could help with etc, when I received a phone call from the management office of the apartment I was renting back in Singapore. They informed me that there had been a flood in my apartment very early that morning, due to a broken pipe, and that this had resulted in several inches of water collecting on my living room floor, until the issue was fixed. They assured me that they had made every effort to rescue electrical items that were on the floor (printers etc) and to dry them with a hairdryer. However, on my return to Singapore early the next morning, I found a few items that they hadn’t noticed: most significantly, my 1970 Gibson Les Paul Custom guitar! On removing it from its water-sodden case, I was distressed to see that the front lacquer had pretty much separated from the painted maple top, so immediately (after some urgent googling) made an appointment with a local guitar shop for its repair.
So, this track is a good example of a positive outcome coming, obliquely, from an apparently negative event. I was on a business trip to Tokyo in December 2012, and thoroughly looking forward to getting back to the relative sanity of Singapore. On my final day in the office, I was meeting with a colleague to discuss my new role, any issues she had in her area that I could help with etc, when I received a phone call from the management office of the apartment I was renting back in Singapore. They informed me that there had been a flood in my apartment very early that morning, due to a broken pipe, and that this had resulted in several inches of water collecting on my living room floor, until the issue was fixed. They assured me that they had made every effort to rescue electrical items that were on the floor (printers etc) and to dry them with a hairdryer. However, on my return to Singapore early the next morning, I found a few items that they hadn’t noticed: most significantly, my 1970 Gibson Les Paul Custom guitar! On removing it from its water-sodden case, I was distressed to see that the front lacquer had pretty much separated from the painted maple top, so immediately (after some urgent googling) made an appointment with a local guitar shop for its repair.
The positive aspect of the story is that, on receiving the guitar back, beautifully (and very sympathetically) restored a near resemblance to its original state, I fell in love with playing it again, and decided to showcase the distinctive sound on a very Les Paul-focussed track: “Just Drive”, completed around March 2013.
The emotional key of the track (which led to the title and lyrics) is established by the driving, repeating guitar riff, and reversed cymbal crashes (for instant atmosphere!). To continue the “reversed” sound theme to establish additional creepiness, I took a portion of vocal prior to the first “Tired of the thinking” line, and introduced that line by reversing the audio so that it builds to a crescendo from nothing; similar to the little trick I had first used for one note of the guitar solo in “November End”. This really was the main technical learning point in the piece which is, otherwise, pretty straightforward; a track that acts mostly as an excuse to play that beautiful (even if it does weigh 4.4kg!) Les Paul Custom guitar.
The guitar tracks (as with previous tracks in which I played electric guitar e.g. “Perpetual Emotion”) made use of the GuitarRig plugin to shape the sound (a particularly favourite feature being its ability to produce a “reverse delay” for, again, that otherworldly effect of a sound building to a crescendo from nothing, rather than behaving in the normal manner of starting with maximum volume, when plucked, and diminishing… very “Hendrix” I hoped).
For the vocal, I channeled Vincent Price, with his monologue on Iron Maiden’s “The number of the Beast” (vaguely!) in mind.
Most of all, though, this track is just a homage to my old guitar. It’s nearly as old as me, and the experience of nearly losing it made me appreciate it all the more…
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