Strange phenomena surrounding the rock group Big Green.
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Hmmm... I know I left that lying around here somewhere. Ah, here it is. Not sure where I'm going without this little number.
No, it's not my brain. It's my list of songs. Sixty five songs and counting. Shoo-wee, right? That's enough songs to fuel the enormous asbestos-clad boiler of the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill for a hundred years. (Well, that may be a slight exaggeration.) What was it I heard Lincoln (or anti-Lincoln) saying the other day? Oh, yeah. "A chicken'll make you a meal... or it'll lay enough eggs for a thousand breakfasts. A lamb - that's about two weeks worth of mutton. Or you can have warm wool coats from now until doomsday..." That Lincoln- just brimming with frontier wisdom. (Actually, I think he borrowed that from Royal Dano in one of his more nefarious incarnations on The Big Valley, Lincoln's favorite T.V. drama.)
Where was I again? Oh, right. The songs. Yeah, we have an enormous backlog of songs, some never recorded, many represented by the most rudimentary demos. Lot more Christmas material, true. Fact is, our first album - 2000 Years To Christmas - was just as selection of numbers from a vast body of ludicrous Christmas songs, mostly penned by that keee-razy brother of mine. Probably about fifty of those in total, though only about a dozen have made it onto our record/perform list as of yet. Intriguing, no? (No? Hmmmm. Is that your final answer? Want a life line?)
Sure, there's that. Then there are the songs that are complete and yet still in the can, never released commercially. Mostly these are recordings that have no proper album to call home. They are made in the usual Big Green way - lay out a polymer disc, slather it full of mastic, add music and apply pressure... much pressure. Then toss. Well... we tossed them a little too far, perhaps, and no one has had the energy to go and pick them up. Those will likely see the light of day at some point, though I don't know exactly when. (Let me consult with my fellow nut cases and get back to you.)
Speaking of nut cases and music, an old friend of mine shared a champion little number with us the other day. Enjoy, campers!
Well, anyway... why do we have to do the same thing every time? I mean, I know safety is important, but frankly we can't afford a spaceship at this point. Can't we just hitchhike to Neptune? Good god, man. Whatever happened to the spirit of adventure? We never used to be so risk averse. We used to bear to the left and take chances. Now look at us. (You can use a smoked glass lens, if you prefer.) We're worried about lack of gravity, lack of oxygen, exposure to radiation - what a bunch of wimps! The only one who's really not intimidated by any of this is the mansized tuber. (At least he hasn't said anything about it to me.) Fact is, we have to do these tours on the cheap, what with a recession on and all that. Money's tight, and our corporate label is even tighter. They don't even want to budget for us , let alone a ship to carry us in. Looks like we'll be relying on comped meals again. Ever try to get a free lunch on Uranus? Hah. Take it from me - it...
I know. I shouldn't have interrupted him with my petty complaints. He's a mad scientist, not a T.V. and stereo repair man. My bad, totally. Dude. Oh, yes... that's right. We are not the only ones reading this. Sorry out there in the blogosphere. Big Green is in the midst of a band meeting of sorts. No, we don't typically do these. Like most groups, we all live together in our funky (i.e. "groovy") musician bachelor pad, with the retro sixties modular furniture and gooseneck lamps of the type you might find in Darrin Stevens' house (assuming he actually had a house and not just a set that is, in essence, a house sawed in half). My point is.... um ... (yes... it was a house sawed in half, perhaps by some kind of witchcraft, or ... craft services....) Damn it! Okay, I'll stay on point. We're meeting about that thing, that bloodthirsty killer. No, not "The Thing", as in the sci-fi movie "The Thing". I mean the thing that Mitc...
Okay, what have you got? Mildred... Fitch . Mildred Fitch, 1429 Mulberry Lane, Aurolias, NJ. Got it. Who's next? Get... Get... Stuffed . Get Stuffed. And where does "Get" live? Up... my... HEY!! Oh, hi. Okay, good enough, how are you? Great, great. What are we doing? Funny you should ask. We're working on our mailing list. In fact, Marvin (my personal robot assistant) and I were just compiling names when you logged on. Frankly, it could use a little work. We haven't released a full-length album in almost nine years - that's NINE YEARS to those of you who are hard of hearing - and our list has kind of gone to seed in the interim. Truth be told, we sent out a little teaser message to the folks on our 2000 Years To Christmas list, and it bounced back so hard the sucker hit me square in the face. (I think it loosened a tooth or two, actually.) It's been a rough nine years on our constituency, friends, and a lot of them have moved on to bigger, greener pasture...
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