Sometimes I wonder if those who have expressed interest in us are out there thinking, "where are mechanics?" We are here, sitting next to you on the train, walking behind you on the street, parked a few spaces down from you in the lot. We are you, looking in the mirror somewhat self consciously before you go out for the evening, wondering if you are becoming all that you'd wanted to become before too much more time passes.

Things have changed. They always change.

As of January of this year, Dave Reynolds is no longer piloting rhythms for us. He's now playing at least occasionally with Blasco Ballroom of Brooklyn, NY. After 4 years as a pretty tight unit, this was really a tough transition all the way around and we thank Dave for his hard work and friendship.

Alex, Mike and I sat down and had a good, long think about what we're going to do now. The answers are always coming and now we are writing the answers. During the questioning, we've been working with Tommy Bendel, formerly of many bands and currently of Make Out Party and The Wahoo Moment. He seems a good fit and has been working like a dog right along with the rest of us to prepare to meet you all again somewhere out there.

We have been on another expedition in sound for the past six months. There was an opportunity to really reflect on the past and the places we'd been and to take a good hard look at all the blank spaces left on the map. We planned a cartographic mission this time. We had to decide where we wanted to go next. We wouldn't find out until we boarded the ship and started moving. So the sound came and we started listening to it, following it. We are mid-ride, and still unsure of where we're going to land. It sounds different. We sound different. We are different.

It's hard to be different. It's uneasy and strange. But if you stay in your same, safe port without movement, without growth, without taking the risk of fucking it up, then you really do become forgettable, and I just can't have it. Maybe I have some sort of personality disorder. Maybe I am a schizoaffective mixture of modesty and egomania. Maybe I will never quite understand myself, but without doubt I can tell you that I must not be forgotten. I don't want to live forever. I just want to be sure and damn well do something while I'm here.

So there it goes. We are infected lately by the drum 'n bass vibe, I have to tell you. Those of you who know us could see it coming. The ASRX-Pro unassumingly sitting in Mike's bass rack hasn't just really been an extremely expensive keyboard for Red Down the Middle. It's been thinking. If you come to North Carolina this Sunday or Maxwell's on June 2 you can hear what it has to say.

But this log was supposed to be about the Brighton Bar. I'm sorry. It's been too long since we've talked about these things.

We worked very, very hard. Tommy is a wonderful guy and he is an extremely talented musician, but the guy is damn busy. We had a handful of rehearsals to teach him the old stuff and to write new material, and every moment was drenched with effort. It was intense, and we weren't always so nice to each other either. I think Alex, Mike and I have just gotten to a point where we simply have to be direct and have it out over what we think sounds good and what doesn't.

I like it this way, but I worry that Tommy, being new to us, would be put off by our style. It's like bringing your new boyfriend over for dinner the first time and wondering if your family is going to scare him away. I think Tommy was okay with it though. He seemed pretty damned focused and worked his ass off, right along with the rest of us. He showed up at the gig, so it couldn't have been all that bad.

Last weekend our good friends Aviso Hara offered us a spot on a bill with them at the Brighton Bar in Long Branch, NJ to test out some of our preliminary

— entry ends here. the rest was never written.

artwork by john feskin of plug spark sanjay

What's the sound of everything okay?

This was the first show since playing with Tommy Bendel where we actually got a proper sound check. Thanks to Adam from Maxwell's for that. "Are you kidding me? I did live sound for an industrial band for 5 years..." No problems there. We had proper monitors, proper sound and a proper check. We have been a little skittish about the sound of things, because we're using different technology. And to be honest we're novices with it. We've written a few new songs that are dependent on samples and needed to be sequenced. We had a few mishaps with the ASRX-pro in practice and dumped our works onto A-DAT. We were a little horrified with the idea of doing a live performance with a tape running. You know, the Milli Vanilli syndrome. But fuck, Failure did it and they're our heroes.

Funny thing is we had gone to see this show at the Cooler in NYC a few weeks ago where there was what I supposed you'd call "live" performances of electronic music. It was this guy with an iBook and headphones. It was the weirdest thing I'd ever seen. All the people in the club were rushing the stage like any hip live act was about to go on and impress us with their chops. But then it's just this guy, a table, a laptop and headphones. And he's sitting there, one headphone on, one off, bopping and swaying, mouse moving back and forth and fingers hitting keys on the Mac. And people are watching him with total intent. Very, very weird.

Watching our show obviously isn't that. There's much more drama involved.

Given how smoothly soundcheck went, we were all relatively relaxed. It was the homecoming show for Plug Spark Sanjay, so there were no worries about turnout.

— entry ends here.

It was Thursday night, July 12 and we powered up the lab. We set priorities. The last set of shows had not gone as well as I'd hoped, although I knew that the ideas were there. We just needed time to execute them.

Since March we've written a lot of new material — more than we've ever written in such a short period of time. Yes, in our world 4 months is a quick gestation period for the birth of song. But the way we work now is different. We cut to the chase. It's almost as though we've nothing to lose at this point. Rather, it's the realization that we never had anything to lose in the first place.

We finished another song and prepared it for Friday's show at the Court Tavern. It's called "Said, to Nothing" and it's pretty much like nothing we've ever done. Yet it's exactly like everything we've ever tried to do, save samples and sequencing. It's an organic piece, spawned by too much reading of quantum mechanics, a dash of spiritual malaise and a small bit of courage. We put it in the set and cut two newer pieces we felt needed more work — Stars from Aircraft and Genetic.

The bill was strong on this night. The Jack McCoys from Boston took the stage first and went over quite well with the crowd. I was surprised to see how many people came early enough to catch them. It was a 4 band bill — something we're never too happy about, especially on home turf — but people came for the first band and enjoyed them. That made me feel better.

Next up was Stereobate — an amazing outfit out of Williamsburg, Brooklyn. We haven't been able to get their cd out of the player since they left. And of course, sharing a bill with Aviso Hara is always our pleasure and they did rock, as always.

We kicked it off with a little piece called Hara (yes, a sort of ode to the aforementioned band). It's a two minute masterpiece made up of bits and pieces of random guitar noise, digital errors from transferring sounds from A-Dat to the computer, and a layered vocal piece by yrs. truly created on a jam man and slowed down until it had the perfect amount of creep in it.

The set was great. I barely remember it, which means it was by far the best one we've played with Tom yet. It could simply be more time playing with Tom or more practice in general. We even played an encore, which is something we rarely do.

When I said we are different back in June I wasn't kidding. We sound very different and it leaves me wondering sometimes where the evolution came from and where we're going. Who am I?

It's a week later, Sunday afternoon. We have packed all of our belongings into the gray tank and we're headed up the NJ Turnpike on the way to Boston. Good friend James Cooper of WE Fest glory and fame tailing us for good measure, on his way to visit the WE Family in Boston.

Traffic sucked. It took us over 6 hours to get to the Middle East. But when we did, things ran smoothly. Tom had 4 Red Bulls on the way up to Boston and I thought the poor boy was going to pop by the time we hit the Tappanzee. I'd never seen him so, er, boyish.

The show was for Powerbunny 4X4 Records' release of Kitra III, which features "The Future of Sex" by us, along with a ton of other great material by bands you could have read about here — Fa5ion Colt, Aviso Hara, ExModels, Land Speed Record!, The Scott Farkus Affair and more, more, more. Definitely one comp worth owning.

Mechanics in the middle. We played a short but sweet set. Got to see friends from Boston we hadn't seen in a long time. I have to mention Mike F., who, in particular was great to see. We met this guy when he was a blonde college boy at U of New Hampshire. Our old band randomly booked a show with him years back and we managed to stay in touch. Not only did he come out to see us. He bought me a beer. He helped us load out. Then he brought a ton of beer back to dear old Kristin Forbes' apartment for the little afters. Then he made us breakfast the next day before we headed home. Now that's friendship. Of course all our pals from WE Fests past were accounted for — Kristin, The Jack McCoys and the one and only James D. Cooper.

Mike came down with another patented Kabok migraine the next day and was ill for the entire trip home. We were quiet and hot as the old a/c in the van hasn't worked in about 3 years now. Unpleasant, but satisfied. Wishing we could just keep going and not have to come back to the reality of NJ.

Then we remembered. In October, we WILL keep going.

This was the best day of the summer. All that great rock out on a horse farm in god knows where Hunterdon County NJ. It's like West Virginia there.

A brown out in the county right before we were supposed to go on was cause for some anxiety, but at least for once it was a technical problem that wasn't our fault. It didn't look good, and a bunch of us started banging on Tom's drum kit in a prayer for power.

I had too much time to drink. That was sort of a problem. I don't usually drink at all before we play. Let's say I was loose.

Will did sound. That was good. But the day was a day of bass players' hell, as both Mike Kabok and the bassist from the Swimmies found their basses going limp at most inopportune times. We couldn't hear the damn sequences again and it fucked us up. We're getting a better idea of what not to do.

People are kind to us, I have to admit. I know that the show in many ways was a complete debacle, yet folks were so appreciative and kind. I can't believe that they actually liked it as much as they insisted. But then, who am I to judge? I'm usually quite bad at it anyway.

Plug Spark Sanjay are always an absolute pleasure. Michael Mixt dressed like a nun. And they rocked.

September looms long and slow, as it always does for mechanics. Mike goes on vacation and we try to finish up some writing. Then it's touring time.