It's the next day and the DAGGERS show up at Trax recording studio for our after-hours, under-the-table time as the previous, better, more responsible band was loading out the last of their gear. Trax is a really nice, really professional studio that's super big money and staffed by consummate professionals. Luckily for us, one of them was sorta goofy and had agreed to record us after his paying customers are done that night, it was only one song, we should be able to knock it out in a couple hours.
We loaded in our gear and started setting up, it was about one in the morning. Rob and I set up our stuff and went to go wander around and check the joint out. It was beautiful-hardwood floors, and crazy windows, and a full kitchen! Sweet! Me and Rob began rooting around to try and make coffee. We found coffee grounds in the fridge, but couldn't find a coffeemaker. We banged around in the cupboards, opening and slamming drawers and doors and swearing loudly when we hear from the door way behind us,
"Wellll, hellllo boyyzzz, whaddaya doooin'?"
I knew the voice instantly, instinctively. But, how, why, here...? I turned around and sure enough, there in a white terrycloth bathrobe, stood JELLO BIAFRA. Wow. And we'd woken him up!
I apologized and told him we were pulling an all-nighter in the studio and were trying to make some coffee. He was nice, said it was no biggie, he was just crashing there while making a new LARD record. And as far as coffee goes,
"Alllll we've got is a french pressssss..."
We did our thing in the kitchen, then did our thing in the studio. We were loading back out as the sun rose misty and cool over Lake street while a cop car parked nearby, backed up against a wall, it's windows all fogged up.
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