Next Week in Nashville

Plottie is preparing for his week in Nashville, beginning this upcoming Saturday. His purpose is to help with the final mixdown session for The Perfect Pitch. Here is what he's afraid of:

1) Contradictions, distractions, disturbances, personal foibles and squabbles.

2) Work hours that last longer into the early morning than make any sense, thereby destroying all good musical judgements.

3) A cadre of old and young rock and rollers, friends and once-members of Plotnik's partner The Wave of Blue's band, who may want to recreate the Good Old Daze.

4) The reality that when Plotnik insists they all stay on point and try to concentrate, to finish one song and then move on to the next, so this project can finally and mercifully get finished, he will be viewed as the school marm with a stick up his butt.

5) The suggestion, apparently already made to The Wave of Blue, that it wouldn't be a bad idea to write in and record a new part for the studio owner's girl friend.

6) Not finishing after all, because of "I've got another great new idea!" The Wave of Blue is a creative guy but sometimes doesn't know the difference between a good new idea and an Are You Freaking Kidding? new idea. This is what caused Plotnik to jump off the train 25 years ago. This is still his greatest nightmare.

What The Great Plotnik wants is to walk in the door at World Headquarters a week from Thursday night with two CDs in his hand: one of the finished play, and one of the finished songs, in order, start to finish, Philosopher Phunque to Everybody Wins. If he can only manage one CD, make it the latter. Just the music, mixed and ready to be mastered. He wants to at long last sit in his office, put his feet on his desk and listen to "Is There Anybody There?" and "On Our Planets," and "Tryin' To Survive," and "Solid Ground," and "The Computer Song," and "Life is Like a Game of Baseball," and of course "Body, Body, Party, Party" and all the others. He wants to feel proud of what he and The Wave of Blue have accomplished.

He can unclench his jaw when he gets home, and deal with the stick. Two CDs, please.