How to make an album.
Hey, Lincoln... you seen my water jug? Didn't think so. How about anti-Lincoln? Drank it? What the hell... how thirsty is that guy, anyway?
Hiya, folks. Big Green here. Just working our way through tour preparations; pulling together all our gear and provisions, packing them onto the space elevator, and writing our wills (not a lot of confidence in the space elevator, frankly). Have we started the countdown yet? Nah. Getting close, though. I'm guessing we'll probably hit the starry trail around September 30 or so, just as we're scheduled to release our new album, International House - 16 tracks of pure Big Green pleasure, just in case you're interested. Anyways... our CD release party will be held in the star system of Aldebaran. Not that we want to diss our terrestrial listeners - we just got to go where the money is, friends. And that money.... is in outer space. (At least that's what our corporate uber-label Loathsome Prick has assured us.) You heard it here first.
As I imagine you've guessed by now, it's going to take a while for us to load the ship. So while Marvin (my personal robot assistant) and the man-sized tuber toil away, I'll tell you just what goes into releasing a new Big Green album. First, there's that bit about making the music. I've talked about this before. Oh, it's a painstaking process of cultivation and assembly. You start with good topsoil - rich Mississippi delta loam is the best. Turn it over a few times to get some air in there, then start planting random musical notes. If the weather is with you and you have a reliable robot (or root vegetable) to do the tilling and the watering, you will yield probably twice as much raw music as you plant. Then you start picking and sorting, then assembling them into DNA-like strings... and eventually whole songs.
The manufacturing process is a bit more complicated. I suppose you think we go to a CD replication house for that, eh? Not a bit of it... not when we've got all this factory space and lots of empty hands (not to mention root tendrils). Really, the hardest part is getting the songs into those discs. We get Marvin to get a big crock on the boil. We cook the songs down to a thick paste-like consistency (takes about five hours). Marvin and the man-sized tuber then apply the paste to the bottom of each disc with a wooden spatula, like frosting Christmas cookies. The coated discs are then placed face down on an anvil made of pure anti-proton material (absolutely pure!), and Big Zamboola sits on them one at a time, fusing the music right into the disc. Works like glass mastering, only cheaper. (We just have to keep feeding them pizzas. They're like interns, you know.) The album art is then handpainted on by anti-Lincoln. (He's better at it than his posi-doppelganger.)
Okay, well... now you know. Go and tell the world how Big Green makes their albums and, lord knows, maybe in a century or two, everybody will be doing it that way.
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