This is a new track that I just finished making on Sunday. Tempo is 123 and percussion wise, I’d say it’s house, but there are arpeggiated parts that are quite trancey. No doubt someone has come up with a name to describe this particular style. Anyhow, check it out…enjoy!
Anand
This is a track that I made in two stages (to hear it, click on the link above the picture). It started out as an ’80s style pop-R&B sort of piece. I played sax, guitar and a 1965 Fender Jazz Bass on it. I liked how some parts sounded but not others, so I sampled the parts that I liked and used them to make the version that I posted here, which is more of a house track. Hope you like it!
This is not a new story from Dr Seuss. This is not a story about some juice. This is my story about what happened when i went to Subway on Friday morning.
Time to order. Yay!
I tell the girl, “6 inch ham egg and cheese on brown please.”
She gets all confused.
I say a bit more slowly:
“brown bread, 6 inch. Breakfast sub. Ham…eggs…and cheese.”
She gets the bread, cuts it and reaches for the tuna.
I say “no tuna! Breakfast sub. Eggs! No tuna!”
She puts the tuna down and asks, “eggs?”
I nod and say “eggs, yes please. Eggs ham and cheese.”
“Toasted?”
I say “yes, toasted please.”
She fumbles with the eggs.
They are frozen and stuck together. More fumbling ensues. I look away, peering out into the food court to keep from getting annoyed.
She puts something in the microwave.
I feel it is safe to look back now.
She has lettuce on the sub and is reaching for the green peppers. I did not ask for lettuce yet.
Also, the sub is not toasted.
I think about asking her to toast it, but I am no longer sure if I would be able to convey this information to her. “No green peppers please. Lettuce, onions, tomatoes and banana peppers.” Astonishingly, she negotiates this task without any difficulty.
The microwave starts beeping. The eggs are ready!
She takes the eggs out. They are not eggs. Some kind of greasy square thing…definitely not eggs.
“Those are not eggs,” I advise her.
“Huh?”
“That square thing you have there. Not eggs.”
I point to the eggs: “those. Those are eggs.”
She manages to separate a portion of frozen, precooked eggs. In the nuker it goes. Time to choose my sauces now.
“Chipotle please.” She reaches for the mayonnaise.
I say “no mayo.” She puts the mayo back. I point at the chipotle. “This. This chipotle.” She picks up the mayo AGAIN, bangs it on the counter and tries to blast out a chunk. A small gob of mayo lands on one end of the sub.
The microwave starts beeping. The eggs are ready!
She takes the eggs out. This time, they are eggs! Yay!
“No mayo,” I say again. This time she hears me, and grabs the chipotle, squeezing a pool of it all over the eggs.
Now it is time to pay. Someone else is working the till. Thank god!
The End.