All's well that ends.
That's no good. They will certainly have lifted the phonograph needle by that point. The phonograph needle... you know... the thing that scratches along the record and makes the music come out. Don't you know anything about technology?
Oh, hello. Didn't see you there, peering in from the void of cyberspace. Just working my way through some technical issues relating to our upcoming album, Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick. Getting into the minutiae with our mad science advisor, Mitch Macaphee, who will actually be making the records this time out. Yes, we do have a corporate label - Hegemonic Records and Worm Farm, Inc., a.k.a. Hegephonic Records - but they are kind of a "hands off" outfit (unless you owe them money; then it's another story ... one involving off duty military personnel, typically .... I'll stop there).
What all that means is simply this: under our "contract", we make the product from start to finish. We write the songs, record them, cut the discs, package them, carry them to all of the stores, etc. Hegephonic does the rest. (That is to say, they rest up until there's some looting to do. It's complicated.) So, we're just trying to work out a few of the details with Mitch, who apparently has never heard of the gramophone record. Have you been to the talkies yet, Mitch? They're like a freaking conjurer's trick!
The fact is, Matt and I prefer to concentrate on more artistic matters... like what's going to happen at the end of every song. Sure, most pop songs just fade away, but the story doesn't end there, my friends. Indeed, a lot of meaning is lost in that fade-out groove. Big Green, for its part (which part I decline to say), is dedicating itself to recovering some of that lost value for the benefit of listeners everywhere. And we're going to do that by putting them out on the interwebs - a collection of last gasps, as it were. Some funky, so sullen, some so bizarre even I can't fathom the implications of their existence. It cannot be so! I find myself shouting when I hear them. And yet it is so.
So.... something to look forward to. That's what we like to hear. Now ... about those photographic plates.... Don't drop them! They're glass, you know.
Oh, hello. Didn't see you there, peering in from the void of cyberspace. Just working my way through some technical issues relating to our upcoming album, Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick. Getting into the minutiae with our mad science advisor, Mitch Macaphee, who will actually be making the records this time out. Yes, we do have a corporate label - Hegemonic Records and Worm Farm, Inc., a.k.a. Hegephonic Records - but they are kind of a "hands off" outfit (unless you owe them money; then it's another story ... one involving off duty military personnel, typically .... I'll stop there). What all that means is simply this: under our "contract", we make the product from start to finish. We write the songs, record them, cut the discs, package them, carry them to all of the stores, etc. Hegephonic does the rest. (That is to say, they rest up until there's some looting to do. It's complicated.) So, we're just trying to work out a few of the details with Mitch, who apparently has never heard of the gramophone record. Have you been to the talkies yet, Mitch? They're like a freaking conjurer's trick!
The fact is, Matt and I prefer to concentrate on more artistic matters... like what's going to happen at the end of every song. Sure, most pop songs just fade away, but the story doesn't end there, my friends. Indeed, a lot of meaning is lost in that fade-out groove. Big Green, for its part (which part I decline to say), is dedicating itself to recovering some of that lost value for the benefit of listeners everywhere. And we're going to do that by putting them out on the interwebs - a collection of last gasps, as it were. Some funky, so sullen, some so bizarre even I can't fathom the implications of their existence. It cannot be so! I find myself shouting when I hear them. And yet it is so. So.... something to look forward to. That's what we like to hear. Now ... about those photographic plates.... Don't drop them! They're glass, you know.
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