FEB. 29TH. 2014. Did I just take a vitamin?
I'm not sure taking two in a row can hurt you, but still.
My coffee's gone cold on me, so I stuck it in the microwave.
There it sits
Cast iron skillets remind me of camping, though I've never
used one camping. Something old and romantic.
Cooked eggs in one this morning
Scrapped the damn thing for twenty minutes
Someone told me you're not supposed to wash them, but the eggs stuck and this is a motel. Never again I tell myself, will I use this black pan.
As I turn off the kitchen faucet I swear I hear someone in the next room sigh.
Febuary 9th 2014. I took my Christmas lights down. I figure they have to be down the first day I have off after New Years Day. Otherwise you are in danger off "Lazy White Trash Status". The very next day (Sunday) I'm sitting back in my "Obsession Room" (as my wife calls it) and working on some new music. I can hear my little dog Gordon yippin and yapping, but I do my best job ignoring him. Then I hear my wife hollering my name, and I'm thinking doesn't anybody in this house know I'm a very important musician working on some brilliant new material? My wife appears in the doorway and says " Gordon's got something cornered in the garage, and you should get out there". I can feel the urge to whine like a little child, but I hold back. Instead I roll my eyes and stand up, bringing into every cell of my body the passive aggressive nature I'm trying so hard to rid myself of. Setting down my little $5 guitar I head out into the garage. Gordon is a 12 pound Terrier Spaniel mix. We've had him for a year (almost to the day). Like all little dogs he's brave and looking to prove himself, but on this Sunday I don't need to run him to the vet because he's came out on the wrong side of a Possum brawl. When I get into the garage Gordon is on the far side barking at something unseen. There's some plywood leaning on the far wall and it has created a little tent like opening at the the floor level. Into this small dark cavern is where my little warrior is barking. I pick him up and take him inside then go get a flashlight. I walk back into our poorly light garage, going around my wife's car I shine the flashlight into the dark space. What I see is a big furry tale, and I'll be honest with you I'm filled with a jolt of fear. I can't see the rest of the body, but I quickly rule out Possum or Rat. What's left is either Cat, Squirrel or Raccoon. The problem is the plywood is wedged tight enough against the wall that I can't get a good look. Also a problem is I'm a little apprehensive to just aggressively get in there and see what it is. The last time I came in contact with a Raccoon it wasn't scared of me. It actually stood on its hind legs and hissed a very evil sound. It was as if it was saying "You want some of this?". I go get a little step ladder and a long piece of wood. Then I open the garage door giving the animal an obvious escape plan. The step ladder is to get me off the floor, because It just feels safer. The two by four is so I can pry the plywood back and scare this varmint back into the wild cold night. Safely two feet in the air I pry the wood far enought back that I can now see that it's a Squirrel. I relax a little at this information, but I'm still not real excited to reach down and have my hand gnawed off by a rabid Squirell. Keeping my distance I use the long board I have to reach down and touch him hoping to encourage him to take advantage of the obvious opening to freedom, but he doesn't move. He's got himself in a predicament where he must back up out of his position to run to freedom. Going forward there is no way to escape and will only compound our situation. After much coaching I manage to use the stick to coerce him to back up and leave his protected hiding spot. Victory is mine and now he can run and be free, and I can go back to playing my guitar. He's happy, I'm happy and all is well right? Of course not. Completely disregarding the massive open garage door he runs only about a foot, and wedges himself up into a little opening in my wall. Now half of him is out in the open and the rest is hiding inside my wall. Now I'm getting a little tired of this, and go get a PVC pipe that is smaller and less likely to hurt him. I use the pipe to get a little more aggressive with him, and it's at this point that he falls out of his position into full view. I can see that the problem is he's hurt. His back leg has been crushed, and he can't scramble away to freedom. Instead he scoots on his belly, finally going outside where I wanted him to go in the first place. He goes into the dirt and leaves of the unpaved part of my driveway. Without the use of his hind leg he only moves in a circular pattern. I can still hear the sound of leaves moving around him, rustling around him. The cold January air blowing around us. Mother nature is ancient and unforgiving, and my heart drops as this situation has changed dramatically for the two of us. He stops and reaches up with his front arms and cleans his face. I think he was trying to get the cobb webs of his face that had gathered on him from inside my wall. It's those details that wont leave me, that I can't get out of my mind. I go inside and sit down heavily on my front room chair. I explain to my wife the situation, and she knows there are only two real options. One is to just forget about him and leave him outside for mother nature and his circumstances to take care of the matter. The other is to go get my shovel and end it for him as fast as possible. I can't just forget about him though. I can't leave him outside to suffer all night in the cold. This Sunday has turned into a real bummer. I go back outside in hopes that he's recovered and ran away to live happily ever after, but no, this story can't end that way. He hasn't just sprained an ankle, he's not going to shake this off. He's still in the same spot, and when I move a little closer he manages to crawl underneath my car. Situated inside my front passenger side tire, he rests on his side. I can see his breathing is labored, and I think that maybe he's in the last throws of dying. That internally he's more messed up than I can see, but that would be too easy. Nothing changes as he just lays in the same spot. For the first time I can see his eyes, black and afraid, he's surviving on instinct alone. I go back inside and sit for another 15 minutes. At this point I've spent about an hour with him, and I just feel sorry for his luck. I go in the back yard and get the shovel. My wife says it's the right thing to do, and she'll come out and help me. I know it's the right thing to do, but the older I get the more I find it hard to even kill a spider. Amber shines the light under the car, and I use the shovel to scoop him up and put him back into the dirt of my driveway. He doesn't seem to have much fight left in him and he doesn't move much. My wife says "Don't delay just do it and do fast. I swing the shovel over my head and bring it down on him as hard as all my muscles in my body will allow. Then I do it again and again as fast and brutely hard as I can. He doesn't move, and just to be sure I add 4 more strikes. I want it to be over for him, and I don't want him to suffer from what I'm doing. I'm breathing hard and look at my wife, she says she's sorry and it was the right thing to do. We put him in a bag and throw it in the garbage. Even that feels shity. Not a fit burial for him, but what else do you do? In the days following I thought of him often, and the bad turn of events that would seal his destiny. It hung on me, and I started to think of this world as a real negative place. That he didn't deserve to end up that way, for his little life to take that turn on a cold Sunday in January. But always in the end there's no one to blame, no one to reason with you why. I've always noticed Squirrels in my back yard. Running along the top of my fence or digging up acorns in my yard. Causing Gordon to run as fast as he can to try and catch one. I notice that since that day I haven't seen a Squirell in my back yard, not even one. This causes me to believe that that little guy was my Squirrel. Over the years it hasn't been different squirrels, but the same one. Now he's gone, and I have no squirrels. Our paths crossed and I hope I did him right, that he would thank me. But you might say it just a rat with a tale, get over it. You might be right, but I still can't get the image of him rubbing those cob webs of his face. MAY 21st 2013. So what the hell is the "GORBIE INTERNATIONAL RECORDS" thing? What about the Gorbie Record Store? Is this Barry Brusseau's website or a record label? Naw, you're probably not asking these questions, but I had to start somewhere. I've learned not to ever count on someone else (a record label) putting out your record. That applies even more nowadays since there's rarely any money to be made. But before I went through with self-releasing my debut record I did send it out to a few Portland labels. I was really looking for a partner, and I thought I had some real good ideas for a cool release. I didn't hold my breath though, and as I predicted the phone (or emails) never brought any news of a "partner". I even had a friend say they'd put there little label emblem on it, but I don't think they liked the record much. So I didn't push it and they never brought it up again. So I moved forward on my own. It just seemed like I was spending all this money for a cool record, and it should have a label. Maybe it would have been a good hypster move to go no label, but after some thought astectically I decided to come up with my own fake label. The obvious choice for me was my Dog. Mikey was such a beautiful animal, and I loved him dearly. Though Mikey was the name he came with (we adopted him). His name morphed into many names, and Gorbie was one ( Mikey into Mikel into Mikel Gorbichov into Gorbie). I had this great image of his eye for the art, and then adding INTERNATIONAL RECORDS just sounded so good (I have sold numerous records internationally so it's not a sham). So the fake label was born. If you're still reading and have overlooked all my bad English then you're a special person, and no can take that away from you. The transformation from fake to real all started with an idea I had for these home recordings. I wanted to do a special release, but I was broke from doing my debut vinyl. So I started to brainstorm how I could make something unique and special, but not go broke doing it. So I decided to get 50 CD's duplicated for cheap, and then put the rest of the package together with my own hands. No jewel cases or plastic, and digi packs were to expensive. The idea formed in my head to use some kind of cloth for the cover, and then buy these cd covers from Stumptown Printers. I spent time at the fabric store, and the craft store. I also enlisted friends to help with sewing and printing. I also decided that I wanted to give them away for free. That cd was called "A Cheap Charming Sound". It was such a hit with my friends and the local papers that I started to get some big ideas. At the time I was surounded by so much talent, with recorded music, and not sure what to do with it. I made an offer at an open mic one night that I would love to record some people for free and maybe release it on my new "label". Mr. Jon Ransom was the first person to take me up on it, and my first release outside myself. I kind of thought that I could help some good people out and give them a little direction. All the while being part of something that I love. I'm not sure that I have that much to give after all this time spent in this tough business, but I do what I can. I've kind of established a look and feel for the label and who knows what will come of it. I'm not concerned with distribution or much that a real label would do, but I do give a damn about making it all with a big heart. All the music you can buy here (that's not me) is music I've had some hand in putting together. If you purchase one of these "Gorbie International Releases" all the money goes to the artist. With the help on Jon we are a all in house record label. We still have to have the Cd's or vinyl manufactured, but that's ok. March 20th 2013. This is the new video for my latest LP. Jake Kelly shot it, and Jon Ransom helped put the finishing touches on it. It stars my wife Amber.
0CT.12. 2012 The second I payed for the first project I began saving for the second album. $50 a paycheck deducted automatically into my specially set up bank account. Now as I type this I'm sewing my ass off making these special canvas covers for a vinyl record that has yet to arrive. I'm not to nervous though I still have until Oct. 20th. I first put together this website just for my debut vinyl. I needed a better web presence, and I was told I should have a website. It's been the right move getting one, but it's hard to feel that connection. That's probably why I'm not always on top of keeping the content fresh. I don't have interns to handle my website, and sometimes after working that 12 hour day I just don't feel like updating things. So I'm making an effort now. I really wanted to build a mailing list from here, and to those that have signed up I thank you. I begin rehearsals Friday, and will have two more after that. I then will try and come up with some special visuals for the show. I still have lots of work to do, and it's taking a tol on me. I stress about shit, and don't sleep. I've run myself down and feel a bit under the weather. I'm not complaining too much am I? The new record makes me proud, and the special package it'll come in makes me happy. I will send out an email as soon as the records arrive, and give all of you folks on the list first crack at the limited canvas package. Take care my friends! This is the story of my debut LP.Welcome to my little website. I wanted to be able to show all the aspects of this labor of love I've worked so hard to make a reality. That labor of love of course being a wonderful 12' vinyl record. I got the thought in my head that there's no reason why I can't make a solo record and put it on vinyl. So for two plus years I started saving $50 dollars a paycheck, and creating some real personal, and heart warming music. From the second I stepped into the studio to having the final product in my hands, I never cut corners. I went to Type Foundry Studios here in Portland Oregon, and enlisted Adam Selzer for his expertise in recording atmospheric folk. I stayed analog all the way through for a pure vinyl experience. I took the masters to Timothy Stolenworks at Stereophonic Mastering, and had it mastered specifically for vinyl. I then sent those mastered tracks to the leading expert in cutting lacquers: John Golden Mastering. This is realy an art form in its own right, and is ultimatley the last step in the sound of your record. Now the heart of this record is the music, but the soul of it is in the senses of sight and touch. It's really hard to achieve the same aesthetic in any other medium. I wanted to make the kind of record you put on your turntable, and then sit down and experience the package. It's that chance to fully express your imagination (both yours and mine). For the cover I had this old photo I wanted to use, but it was real old and small (and I didn't have the negative). I started to think about what options I had, and decided to call an old friend who just happened to be a talented artist. I gave Rachel Blumberg the photograph and asked her to paint me a version of the picture. She did a beautiful job, and it not only became the cover, but it looks great on my wall. I wanted the lyrics sheet to be special, but more than just a sheet of text. The great thing about vinyl is the size of canvas to express. So you have a lot more options to do something that you don't need a magnifying glass to read. I'm a hack of a photo enthusiast, but I really enjoy experimenting with old cameras and Pinhole cameras. I had this big box of these pictures, some good, some bad, and some perfect for this project. I sat down and tried to match images with lyrics. While the pictures were not taken with the songs in mind, and the song not created with the pictures in mind, clear matches started to fall into place. So I wanted each song to have its own card with lyric and matching image. I also wanted to paper to feel good in you hands, so I picked out a nice textured paper for that final touch. 9 cards with lyrics and one card with thanks you's. That left two songs without cards, and two of my favorite pinhole pictures without a use. I still had the inner sleeve to complete, and this is what would become the art for the inside sleeve. The two pictures were one hour exposures taken with my pinhole camera. One from the vewpoint looking out into my backyard, and the other looking from my backyard to my house. They were taken at dusk, and the colors are deep and sureal. The final job was the artwork for the labels on the vinyl. I gave this job to my 12 year old nephew, and it was the final touch. I made this record for myself, because I wanted nothing more than to hold the final product in my hands. If you believe that the format of vinyl is the best way to experience music than it's for you too. I don't need to put it next to the other stacks of old music project in my garage. This is why I only pressed 300 records, and I'm only charging $10. Get this record home and put it on your record player. Turn up the volume and listen to the sound of the felt on the end of the drum stick hitting the drum, the sound of a creaky piano chair. The warmth of a nylon string guitar with a baritone vocal full of heart felt effort and vulnerability.