Click here to view the embedded video.

My dear friend Rick Myers, who was instrumental in working with and managing my first real band, Some People’s Children back ion the 80’s, has directed a video for the title track of my album, “In Transit”. I think it is pretty cool. Rick, of course, can do a much better job describing the process and all, so I turn it over to him to tell the story. Enjoy! -gz

George first mentioned the idea for a video while he was still finishing the recording of the album “In Transit.”  He’s seen some test footage I had and wanted to shoot video using a moving high-speed camera shooting at 120 frames per second.  When he was ready for the video, we revisited that concept, but the idea of shooting crazy video with a high-speed camera mounted on a Glide Cam in a functioning international airport seemed like a bad idea.  Getting permission might be possible, but the time and restrictions would be many, and shooting ‘guerrilla’  style was out of the question.  I didn’t think the TSA would appreciate me running through a terminal at MSP with a strange looking high-speed camera on a steady rig!

So, we talked a bit about some of the video tricks we used years ago with George’s band, Some People’s Children.  SPC made extensive use of video clips during live shows, and most of that was ‘found’ footage from a wide variety of sources.  I suggested we take some stock footage and manipulate it to fit the song.  He agreed and I began searching for footage, mostly notably from the Prelinger Archives.  I started collecting pile of footage of vintage aircraft, films showing airports from the late 40s through the mid 60s.  Then came the question, “What would it look like if Stanley Kubrick made a music video?”

It seemed to fit.  The song, “InTransit,” is a slow-paced, almost dreamy song, and Kubrick was known for letting a shot linger.  Plus, as we sorted the various clips, it became clear we would do the whole thing in stark black and white (with the exception of the very first and very last shot).  The video is the playback of a very old and broken hologram.  There are practically no shots that have not been altered in some way, sped up, slowed down, even played backwards.  Dozens and dozens of clips bounced back and forth between Premiere Pro and After Effects in a process that became known as ‘time phucking.’  The video hints at a storyline without really providing any details.  It’s what is left, bits and pieces of memories.

The CGI blimp is courtesy of Stan Bissinger, owner of Apparition 3D.  As always, the stunt llamas were trained by Llama Fresh Farms, Ltd. in Paraguay.

- Rick Myers, Director/Editor

This is kind of a weird thing to observe, as part of me is sad of course. Yet, there is this sense of time, and personal accomplishment.

Look. This wasn’t an easy decade. But in the end, I feel like I came out the other side of things stronger and better; resilient and capable of things unimaginable before my affliction.

So like I did a decade ago, I spent this December 19th watching “The Fellowship of the Ring.” When those first spiraling spots set in motion before my left eye, I wondered if I would ever be able to experience a motion picture in the same way again. Over that time, I had to adapt and learn how to observe things differently. I had to use other senses, trust my ears and instincts and let go of that which I could not control. But in the end, all this time later, I still love the scene at the edge of Khazad-dûm, when Gandalf yells, “You shall not pass!” I find the sound design epic beyond words. And I find Samwise Gamgee to be overtly bisexual at the very least.

When my eye failed (My left eye. My right eye was bad when I was born, so I was screwed.), I really worried about losing more than the ability to see. I worried about losing the ability to spell. To keep up with technology. I worried about forgetting how my kids looked. I worried about losing my sense of direction. I worried about my ability to follow my beloved motorsports. I mean, it was really scary. The first time I went to Disney with the family scared the living shit out of me. What happens if I lose them in the crowd? What do I do on a  roller coaster? Will I know what’s coming up around the next bend?

Well, I really didn’t need to worry TOO much. Spelling is an ingrained part of our lexicon, I’ve discovered, a part of our mental construct of language itself. Technology – oh my beloved technology – has changed in terms of portability and touch screens and such, but it also allows me to do things like type this blog with text to speech and magnification aids. I am still the family navigator, having guided The Zhen’s on vacations through intense metropolitan areas like New York and San Francisco without GPS, without a problem. And I use a cane in crowds so people understand that I am visually impaired, not drunk. All the while, adopting the philosophy of the ruder people are, the blinder I become… (whack! Sorry, was that your shin?)

I do miss driving. Even more than reading. I would give anything to feel the exhilaration of downshifting at speed. Not to mention the independence of being mobile…

My children have grown and I’ve watched their baseball games through a monocular magnifier, heard their wonderful concerts through undistracted ears and been blown away by the confidence and maturitty they’ve displayed in the face of their dad’s eye problems. I know it has been a hinderance from time to time, having to be my “eyes” (”How much time is left on the clock? What down is it?”), but I know it has given them a perspective, a sense of empathy, that couldn’t have been imparted by anecdote alone. They’ve lived it. And I think we’ve all been the better for it in some ways.

And then there’s my wife. My marriage. In the middle of life, here we were trucking along, raising a family and building a “normal” life. It would have been predictably easy for a family, for a marriage, to crumple under the pressure of this sort of thing. But my wife is a rock. Solid. Loyal, Unwavering in commitment to family and to me. I couldn’t have asked for anything better in life. I’ve made dumb decisions over the course of it all, but talking to the redhead was definitely not one of them. She is my light; my eyes.

I am beyond lucky.

Today, in 2011, I can still watch cars race and probably tell you who’s going to need a track bar adjustment at the next pit stop. I can still spell hippopotamus. I will get an iPad to record my next album remotely, at various South Florida locales.

I really never thought I would make it through the Mines of Moria. But here I am, at the base of Mt. Doom, still standing… awaiting my next adventure.

This is the modest goal I have these days for my music. And sadly, it will take all kinds of sweat and arm-twisting to meet it.

It’s tough in this age of instant streaming downloads and YouTube videos to get people to part with their hard-earned cash to support any kind of music, much less the music made by a married suburban dad of two you’ve never heard of. It re-enforces the unkind truths about the artform’s place in the digital age, relegated to an ancillary role, fueling our workouts or our commutes at best, or perhaps soundtracking our video games or other primary entertainment sources. The idea of an “album” itself as a continual, themed collection of music designed to be listened to, in order, from start to finish has become something of a dinosaur, replaced by the selective gratification and financially frugal concept of the playlist. Not that there’s anything wrong with that I guess, but it’s a ways from how I grew up consuming music.

CONTRASTS IN CONSUMPTION
Never was this contrast more crystallized than when I picked up a record player and some records for the first time in over two decades. this happened about 6 months ago. I found a Zeppelin record and put it on. The spinning table was the central focus, the album cover in hand. No videos or life chores to take me away from the warm embrace of the analog tones and perfect imperfections of old vinyl.

But what occurred to me wasn’t so much the vinyl epifany, which is a blog onto itself. It was more that this form was what I fell in love with as a kid. Alone, you, the music and the artist. It could take you on a journey without a joystick or a steering wheel in hand. Perhaps this is why, in spite of all of the depressing realities facing the form as it pertains to me, I still love making and sharing my original music.

THE ESSENCE OF TIME
Even more pathetically, I write this blog with the knowledge that most people, friends even, won’t bother to read it. It’s where we are. I can post a pic of a cat doing something stupid or a status update about what I am eating for dinner and that is likely to get more of a response. Why? Those things are universal, uncontroversial and require little thought or effort to engage in. “Sure do love that Fajita Burrito at Chipotle,” they’ll retort. But ask people to listen to or read your creative enterprise and the likely response will be akin to digital crickets. And that’s not even asking them to PAY for anything – that’s just asking them to spend time.

This is my third album in 10 years. I think I have sold a grand total of 300 copies and probably given away another 100 or so. Now mind you, I don’t tour or play live shows, so there is something to be said about the challenge of trying to move units while sitting at home. I get that. But when I consider the time and level of effort involved, it is kind of crazy.

Seriously, consider what this product entails. I write the material, arrange it, play all the instruments for the most part, record it, engineer it (with all the associated learning curves), design all the artwork inside and out, build the supporting websites and stuff, all because I love the form.

Oh, and did I mention I am legally blind? LOL! Talk about a labor of love.

I long ago realized that I was never going to “make it” in the music business as an artist. What people need to understand about this music and me is that it isn’t some desperately pathetic middle-aged swing for the fences. I’m really, really not that delusional or sad. Please. But I would hope that I could conjure up enough support among my friends, close and extended, to justify the production of music in this form. That’s all I really want people to do. Listen. Maybe you’ll enjoy it. Maybe not. But at least listen. Maybe you’ll end up being one of the 100 who gives a shit…

(So if it ends up that you do in fact give a shit, visit www.GeorgeZhenMusic.com and order  George’s new CD, “In Transit”…)