‘Bedlam, chaos and cacophony’ from Beacon rocker
The Cassandra Recording Studio, in the KuBe Art Center, occupies the same space where George Spafford attended Mr. Trad’s art class as a freshman during the former Beacon High School’s final year in use.
Now 37, Spafford co-owns the place, which is filled with vintage gear, like a theremin, a Fender Rhodes electric piano, a reel-to-reel tape player and a couple of Teisco guitars from Japan.
He opened the studio in 2016 and built a control room, where he dialed in the sounds for his new eight-song album, Self-Destroyed Man, available for download or on vinyl. “It’s the opposite of a self-made man,” he says. “Statistically, there’s probably more of us than there are of them.”
Spafford’s stage name is Buoy George, bestowed by a friend, but he dismisses any affinity or affiliation with the lead singer of the 1980s band Culture Club and shrugs it off as a lark. The pun extends to his band, the Buoy Decibel System.
There is certainly no musical connection between Boy George’s radio-friendly hits and Spafford’s rollicking, wide-ranging, guitar-driven rock ’n’ roll. Amid abrupt tempo shifts, the songs contain more parts than just verse, chorus and bridge, seesawing from smooth pop to jangly 12-string guitar part to abrasive punk energy.
“I’m looking to challenge conventional pop song elements,” he says. “I want that feel-good hook once in a while, but I’m also going for bedlam, chaos and cacophony.”
Mission accomplished.
Spafford brings vast musical knowledge to the craft. His favorite label is Stax, the Memphis-based soul-and-funk laboratory that flourished in the 1960s and ’70s. He’s a fan of Boston legends Mission of Burma, particularly their obscure fourth member, Martin Swope, who twiddled the knobs and created background soundscapes.
His studio name derives from a graffiti tag on the door when he moved in, but Spafford is a deep dude who could be compared with the Greek priestess fated to make accurate insights and predictions about society, though no one believed her.
Sometimes, he sounds like a crotchety Boomer railing at the music of today and the vapid sounds of yesteryear: “less Madonna, more Shaggs, Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart.” The “surveillance economy,” “internet poison” and egotistical pop stars who brag about material goods and influence the “look-at-me” culture also raise his ire.
As the title of his album suggests, demons have been battled, sometimes slayed. Included with the vinyl edition is Spafford’s resume through 2021, which he contends proves the point about self-destruction.
He attended Dutchess Community College for a few months, long enough to make the dean’s list. Along the way, he mastered the best-known recording software tools.
Then came five years managing Quinn’s on Main Street in Beacon, developing the music programming around the same time he opened his studio, where he oversees “scheduling, customer service and daily maintenance of space.”
Cassandra’s lair is in a secluded section of the old high school, which is a plus. “I don’t see anyone, and I have my own loading zone and parking lot,” he says. “I’m just trying to donate my life to art, do the best I can, and the rest will take care of itself.”
Self-Destroyed Man is available at Amazon Music, Apple Music and Bandcamp.com.
