Gentle Reader –

The Badger apologizes once more for being exceedingly slack in matters of correspondence. It's not that we haven't been doing anything, we've just been too busy or lazy to write about it. What with all the swilling of tea, acquisition of gadgets, and making of noise, well, there's only so much a Badger can do.

Earlier this autumn, we had the breathtakingly good Orphans and Vandals in for a week and change. Yea, verily, we were a bit nervous, as this was our first outside project, and one most definitely does not want to fuck this up, but with no cause. We couldn't have found a better band for our maiden voyage. Their songs are rich and lovely, and their arrangements were wondrous to behold. The Orphans had some very specific requirements – they wanted to record live, in the same room –including vocals. Let us be frank, Gentle Readers; not many bands can pull that off. Vocals in the same (admittedly bijou) room with drums? Violin & viola in the same room with anything? It would make a more mainstream studio choke on their digestive biscuits, but the House Of The Rising Badger was built on a sense of adventure. The results are gorgeous, and a good time was had by all. All hail Orphans And Vandals, it was a pleasure to be a part of their start. Long may they reign.

Your Humble Servant was recently in North Carolina, visiting Mark & Kate Fuqua of the mighty Motor Ave Guitars (have a look at their 'space for some genuine guitar porn) and Mitch Easter, Sonic Visionary (thus sayeth Mojo), and indulging in an all too American craving for Thanksgiving dinner. Over multiple cups of tea, we discussed our various tree houses and putting the world to rights, as one does on these occasions, and it occurred to me that more needs to be said about the specifics of the House Of The Rising Badger.

The HOTRB is an idea that has been roughly 10 years in the making. Timothy and Shireen met when both working in a grubby basement venue in Camden Town. In between rants about all bands being rubbish (or at least all who came through said venue), we began to form a solid bond over pop geekery, gear, and recording. We'd listen to our favorite records, and try to figure out how they were made. We made pilgrimages to other recording studios, to see what the noise was about. We started to squirrel away bits of gear, noisemakers, mics, outboard gear. It's an unnatural obsession, but it kept us sane. (Thankfully, we got our grubby little paws on a lot of this stuff before it became so terribly fashionable, or the HOTRB would have to find a rich uncle and kill him off.)

The first attempt was at the original Badger Mansions in Stoke Newington, but complaining neighbors and leaky toilets put that one to bed. Then we met the ingenious Robbie Moore, who had built a fine little studio in Cable Street out of scavenged lumber and a squatted room. Moorella was space rich, but gear shy, so we combined our gadgets and started to make a proper racket. Sadly, Moorella fell prey to landlords, who finally noticed that an 800sq ft live room had been squatted, brought up to spec, and was being used rent-free. Then we all joined forces with Young Ben Roulston at the old SARM East, and after exorcizing the ghost of Trevor Horn, MARS/Brick Lane Recorders was born. Some smashing recordings were done there, but again, it wasn't meant to be, as a schizophrenic leaseholder started to make life unbearable. MARS moved to Dean Street Studios, which was Tony Visconti's Rare Earth Studios throughout the 70s, but the rent was too rich for your Humble Badgers, who had long ago decided that they wanted to record things that they liked more than cat food commercials that paid.

And so the excavation of the basement began, along with this humble blog.

While whiling away the hours with the lovely Mark and Kate, it occurred to me that we have yet to define what the House Of The Rising Badger is and isn't. -----

There are two requirements for recording at the House Of The Rising Badger. Well, really, more than two, because first of all, you have to be nice people and we have to like the noise that you make, and believe that we can bring something to it. And, of course, you have to like us and think you can get something special done here. If a studio –any studio- doesn't inspire you, don't waste your time there. Find a place that makes you feel like a seven year old in a bouncy castle, a room and people that spark your brain and get you excited. Otherwise, what's the point?

Requirement Number One is no cat allergies. The House Of The Rising Badger comes complete with three felines, one boy, one girl and one gay critter. If your drummer is allergic to cats, that's most regrettable. We can only apologize, and hope that he or she finds relief in the miracle of science, 'cause there's not a lot we can do.

The second requirement is a bit more delicate in nature, but needs to be addressed before a mountain of gear is delivered to our front door. The House Of The Rising Badger is built into a flat, and has dozens of choices for guitar amps and guitars, a piano, multiple harmoniums and drum kits, organs, strange keyboards and no end of nonsense, and, as you can imagine, space is at a premium. The entrance to the control room is through a narrow galley kitchen, and requires a bit of a squeeze between a refrigerator and a badly-built basement door. So while we would never want to discriminate, or imply that our more generously upholstered brethren aren't welcome, we should warn you of the obstacles to control room access, should someone in your band be rather large. I'm not talking dammit-I-don't-look-like-Kate-Moss-in-a-bikini type large, I'm talking large-large. To be honest, we should probably issue hard hats as well, but after you bang your head on the basement door a few times, you'll get the message.

As for the holiday season (bah!), we are eagerly looking forward to making some noise with the gloriously throbbing Mountain Machine (talk to the ovaries, sweetheart) & a joyfully mischievous Wet Dog. So until we next get off our collective arse, make a cup of tea and

All hail the three minute pop song –
xx
Brother Shireen
House Of The Rising Badger

PS. I also have been known to smoke like a crematorium (though never in the control room, mind…). If you're a smoker, come scrounge a fag; if you're allergic, bring tolerance and Nicorette.