The Official Website of Corn Mo
Walter Kuhr kindly came by the studio the other day. He laid down some bassoon tracks for a few songs. I was going to use bass clarinet but couldn’t find anyone. It’s better to have friends play anyway. It’s more fun that way. He’s the fellow who directs the Main Squeeze Orchestra, the all-girl accordion orchestra. He also runs an accordion shop called the Main Squeeze. He fixed the bellows on my accordion last week. He’s a very good fellow.
Diary Entry: February 9 (as dictated to the secretary, Charles, who writes very slowly)
14 knocks on my door. I counted each one. Some were in cadences familiar to everyone. Five of those and then eight in a steady manner. I waited for the fifteenth one but it never came. When I got to the door and peeped out the hole I saw a delivery guy holding a bag. It was my dinner. So, I opened the door and the guy held the bag up. It didn’t say Spice on the bag as it usually does. The guy moved his other hand to his waste and then behind the bag and shot through it.
If it weren’t for my copy of the Green Gable Show I would have passed away immediately, barely missing my 178th birthday dinner.
The man had only one bullet and his eyes got big and full of tears as he fired. And he didn’t even have a delivery. It was an empty bag!
I smacked him across the cheek with my book, handed back his revolver and offered him a second bullet to try again (I keep one in my pocket like one would keep a lucky rabbit’s foot). He was too shaky (but not from anger as I was) to put it in and kept leaving the key chain on it, so I did it for him and handed it back.
He shot me in the face this time and I got madder than hell. He hit my face! I went to my desk, bleeding all over the place (I’d just bought a white shag rug for $200 at Crate and Barrel to impress some girl who use to be special) and rummaged for another bullet, finding one more. I put it in the gun myself as I was walking back to the door with my face dripping blood. He was gone.
I was Yosemite Sam angry. Old YS will get unnecessarily angry to the hilt! I tantrum-stomped and bled all over that stupid rug. Finally, my real dinner came and I fibbed to the real delivery guy and said “You must have the wrong address” because I’d lost my appetite from all the cheek blood that was also bleeding inside my mouth. Then, I got hungry again.
I recorded tuba tracks on four songs with TubaJoe Exley today. He is Exleynt on tuba. sorry.
You can hear his stuff here. The sounds he did with me are for the cd I’ve been working on which is supposed to be done, soon.
Bonnarooo!
I caught a ride with a friend of a friend that I hadn’t seen in a while. He had rented an rv and I made some new friends and had a swell time getting to Tennessee.
At one point, we saw a giant smoke ring.
Show. I had an excellent show. An excellent time. I don’t know how it could have been better. I played in a tent and it was hot and I sweated tremendously, but I don’t think ac would have made it better. I’m sure someone could make a chart and show me how it could have been better but I can’t. In my memory, it was perfect.
This is how my dad eats salad. We only appear angry.
Free. My one-man band status allowed me to treat my new friends to dinner with free-dinner passes. I met Lewis Black and had a nice sandwich. I caught up with some old friends at the bar tent where the free beer was poured. My friend, Matt, wanted some free shoes, so I told him to say he was my drummer. I found out later that someone used that idea to get free pants and it worked.
I didn’t get a picture from the studio, so here’s a picture of my cousin’s studio.
Recording. Later that day, I hooked up with Ben Folds and rode with him and his crew to Nashville. The next day we recorded a Darkness cover for an ep at his studio, which is amazing. It’s the old RCA studio that Chet Atkins built. Elvis and Johnny Cash recorded there. My dad got to come by and check it out, too. Speaking of dads, supposedly Elvis’ son came by at one time and told Ben that he use to sit on his dad’s lap at the mixing board. At a later time, some old dudes wandered by and almost confirmed the claim. You should ask Ben yourself because I’m telling it all wrong.
Dear Corn Mo,
At the behest of Mr. Bill Stites, I checked out your Bonnaroo set and
was blown away by it. Never before have I been as utterly compelled
by a single musician with an accordian, or even watched one for that
matter. I was pleasantly surprised to find you’d be in Baltimore
shortly and will be getting together the small group of people that,
while watching your Bonnaroo set, I thought “I know some people that
would love this” about.
Also, while mildly intoxicated in the backstage band area, I
approached the designer jeans tent and asked for a pair. When asked
what band I played with, I instinctively spouted out that I was “the
drummer for Corn Mo.” We talked about our (your) music for a while
and then she gave me the pants. Since I would not have these pants
were it not for you, I felt I had to send you my sincere thanks. They
are strategically pre-ripped and come with a large skull on the left
leg that appears to be smiling. I have enclosed a picture of the
pants for completeness.
Once again, thank you very much for your entertaining show and
(indirectly) for the pants, and I look forward to seeing you in
Baltimore!
-Yancy Davis
Corn Mo with They Might Be Giants performing Hocus Pocus by Focus