Gather ’round the fire, folks. Everybody got their hot chocolate? Not too, hot, right? Make yourselves comfortable. Got some serious yuletide bloviating to do.
As I mentioned last week, all of our little elves have been laboring under harsh working conditions in the basement of the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, hammering together the disjointed fragments of Big Green’s Christmas Podcast. A thankless job, to be sure, but somebody has to do it (at a substandard wage). Next year maybe we outsource to Sri Lanka in honor of Mitt Romney’s eventual nomination. Or not. Anyway…. Christmas…
It occurs to me, listening to our holiday audio extravaganza, that our explanations of the songs included in the podcast are, shall we say, somewhat wanting. So what the hell… I’m going to give you the low-down on all of them, just so that you can be a more informed listener. That’s how we roll over here at Big Green – full disclosure at all times. Why, you may ask? Well… I’d rather not say.
Okay, so here’s the story below the music. I’ve included the time markers so that you can work your way through our 2 and a half hours of blather:
Merry Christmas, Jane (Part 2). [at 1:40] One of the numbers from our first album, 2000 Years To Christmas. Some reviewer on GarageBand thought it sounded like Neil Young, but that’s probably mostly the instrumentation. What’s it about? Damned if I know. It was a year-later rejoinder to Matt’s “Merry Christmas, Jane”, which also appears on 2000 Years To Christmas. (Little known fact: There is, indeed, a “Merry Christmas Jane, Part 3” that has never been properly recorded. Maybe next 
Christmas, children.)
Dark Christmas. [at 1:10:30] This is an outtake from the 2000 Years To Christmas album – one of the handful of completed songs that didn’t make it onto the disc. What’s it about? I’m still trying to work that out, but it’s sung in the voice of someone who is trying to pull someone out of their holiday slump.
Christmas Sport. [at 1:24:35] Matt’s musical reflection on the warm holiday tradition of shooting everything that moves. Another new recording.
Christmas Puzzle. [at 1:33:00] Matt wrote this about a classmate of his in grade school who was a bit disappointed with his secret santa gift. (He actually explains this better on the podcast.) The original recording was made more than a decade ago and recently enhanced with new vocals, percussion, and a remix.
Jit-Jaguar. [at 1:51:47] We recently recorded this number about the political fortunes of a local officeholder who, disappointed at the results of a recent election, calls upon a Japanese sci-fi movie automatonic superhero to assist with his vengeance on the people who rejected him.
Evening Crab Nebula. [at 2:14:29] A new recording made with the help of “Cousin” Rick Perry; a tale of hope and caution. Hope for political advantage; caution about taking biblical stories too literally. Contains the only known instance of a rhyme with the word “Nebula” in a pop song lyric.
There we go, kids. Lame explanations, I admit, but… lame is better than nothing. Have a happy.
Got to love these small town managers. It’s bad enough that they pass an ordinance against squatting in abandoned properties (something Lincoln is convinced is aimed directly at us, lawyer that he is); now they’ve got one against all night parking. Thing is, we – that is to say, the core members of the musical collective known as Big Green – don’t even have cars. We’re not parking overnight on the street because we’ve got nothing to park. No, no – they’re complaining about the big, blimp-like space vehicle we rented for our recent interstellar tour, which is still hovering over the mill like some kind of sales promotion. (The owner has yet to pick it up.) The town would hang tickets on the thing if they could find a ladder long enough. (They’re talking to the fire department right now. This could get ugly.)
Oh, hi… Yes, Big Green has made its triumphant return to Earth from its somewhat less-than-triumphant [INSERT NAME HERE] Interstellar Tour 2011, pulling our rental spacecraft into a low, low … very low parking orbit (approximately 100 feet above the Earth’s surface) over the Cheney Hammer Mill, our abandoned mill of a home in upstate New York. And, as will happen when one leaves one’s home for a stretch of weeks, some maintenance issues have emerged to greet us, providing us with distraction even before we’ve had the chance to remove our tour galoshes. They say all roofs leak, but I doubt they all leak this badly. My converted hammer assembly room suite looks like a freaking swimming pool. I think I see fish.