Smash flops.

I don't know - what do you think? It's been a few weeks. Actually longer. Starting to lose track. When you've been at sea as long as we have, you forget what the shore looks like. Though if memory serves, it sure looks like shit.

Ah, forgive me. You caught me in the midst of my musings. My mind tends to wander as I squat here in the humble potting shed that sits in the courtyard of the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, our erstwhile squat-house now under occupation by hostile neighbors. (See what I mean? I can't even write short sentences anymore.) Living here offers an opportunity to reflect on where we've been and where we're going. Where we've been is nowhere. Where we're going is, who the hell knows. And the midpoint between nowhere and who the hell knows is ... I don't know, fuck-all? Something nicer?

For some reason, this week we were talking about whether or not Big Green would do another album. After all, our last release was in 2013, when we dropped Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick. And we haven't forgotten what happened then ... we dropped it and it broke into a million pieces. Then we dropped another one; that one broke into a million pieces. So we tried carrying the third copy around more carefully. That's when one of those Texas rangers shot the thing so full of holes that now every copy has bullet holes in it. See for yourself!

SEe? Shot full of holes.

Anyhow, it's not beyond the realm of possibility that we would put out another collection, particularly since we have tracked somewhere between 80 and 100 songs under the rubric of Ned Trek since we released our last album. (Sure, some of those numbers are meant for laughs, but what the hell .... Cowboy Scat wasn't?) In fact, I myself can discern as many as three distinct albums in that big bag o' songs, but given the amount of effort involved in preparing and releasing a collection, my guess is that we will start with one, albeit kind of a long one. (Again, Cowboy Scat was 21 songs. Yes ... 21.)

I still haven't given up on my notion of having an online jukebox. Everyone else has, of course. So maybe an album is the thing. Probably the best we can manage, living in a potting shed.

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