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| cake or death :: the debut album | ||||
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cake or death
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Olya Mokina
:: drums. Kristin Kelly :: vocals and keyboard. Joshua Leavitt ::
bass. Paul Durham :: guitar &vocals. music by the band, lyrics
by Kristin and Paul. click here to listen to 90 second clips of a bunch of the songs. to save mp3 files to your hard drive: pc users: RIGHT CLICK on the link and select Save Target As... follow prompts to select the directory on your hard drive. mac users: CONTROL CLICK on the link and choose Download Link... then follow the prompts to select the directory on your hard drive. |
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| Christmas
Eve, 4:30 AM. The Avalon Ballroom, New York City. Paul is out cold again, fast asleep on the couch. Olya walks around the room, trying to find someone to help her get him vertical so she can get him to a cab. She scans the room for the people she SHOULD approach first. Joshua. He’s the damn bass player after all, but Joshua’s had enough of Paul, and anyway, he’s having a conversation. Can’t you see he’s having a conversation with someone very important? Joshua is talking very fast to a drag queen about Krishnamurti or some nonsense. Joshua thinks way too much, Olya thinks. Olya is grabbed by a lanky blond in the crowd who recognizes her and wants her to meet some friends, I saw your last show you’re so amazing, but Olya’s in a hurry and she’s not very good with faces anyway. She thinks the blond’s an actress or model or something, someone famous for sure, but Olya’s from Russia and she could care less about American actresses. They all look exactly the same. So Olya tromps off to find Kristin, who she can’t locate for about half an hour, first because Kristin blends in so well in a big club like this, and second because to find Kristin you have to push your way through the inevitable circle of admirers who are trying to make conversation with her. Which is always funny because Kristin couldn’t keep a conversation going if her life depended on it. |
She has a celebrity’s way of
starting sentences and just letting them trail off. Somehow journalists
always find this mysterious and interesting, which always annoys Olya
who just finds it annoying. I’m in a band with rock stars who
act like rock stars, Olya thinks. Why do they get all the attention? Olya criss-crosses the dance floor looking for tell-tale crowds of men. She finally locates Kristin in the men’s room, mystifyingly alone and applying cherry-red lipstick while singing an old Fleetwood Mac song. Why does it always come down to Olya to make everything happen? Showing no sign of surprise at her description of Paul’s condition, Kristin follows Olya back upstairs, past the first security guard, down a hallway, past a bar, up another flight of stairs and past another security guard to the crowded VIP room. Paul’s in exactly the same position, snoring. It’s like he’s been embalmed, Olya thinks. Funny since he’s so straight-edge. A little jewel of spittle shines on the couch next to his open mouth. Joshua is nowhere to be found. They enlist a security guard, and the three of them manage to carry Paul out the rear exit and crumple his giant frame into the back of a taxi cab. Kristin and Olya fit themselves in by sitting on top of his legs. Paul’s face is pressed up against the window and his breath leaves a print of condensation. Outside it’s snowing. Olya IM’s Joshua to get moving. Five minutes later he sends back: |
ACCEPT WHAT IS, AS IT IS, HERE AND
NOW. Give me a break, thinks Olya. Kristin’s still singing to herself. The cab rolls away. It was Joshua who insisted that the album be recorded on Christmas Day. Said the millions of people staying home from work that day would encode the album with the true essence of Jesus’ life. Paul said it was bullshit when Joshua first proposed it, but then Paul went missing for a week, and was finally found penniless is Philadelphia, searching for the steps Sylvester Stallone ran up in Rocky. Meanwhile, Joshua had booked the studio. So here they all are. Joshua begins tuning his bass. Paul’s finally waking up. Static crackles from the popscreen as he puts his mouth to a mic. His eyes go wide with the shock. He’s amazingly lucid for about three hours a day, and the brilliant thing is it’s always just the three hours they need him. Kristin comes in with a bag of cookies and mentions that David Bowie is recording in the next room. Everyone stops for a moment and thinks about that. Olya finds her drum sticks. She’s all ready to go. She’s never been happier in her life. paul budnitz |
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