Tag Archives: Albany

Who the hell knows what’s coming? My guess is nobody.

Hey, there’s a lot to look forward to, people. Like, I don’t know …. whatever is next. And some other stuff. When it comes to Big Green, well … it’s anyone’s guess. Nevertheless, we’re still doing the thing. And that thing is weird ass music.

Here’s basically what we have in store for you:

New Single: Against It

That’s right – we’re dropping a one-off , tentatively titled “Against It” in May, just in time for the first anniversary of the release of our album In Retrograde. (Hardly seems like a year, does it? More like five.) The new single is, well … let’s say a bit more topical than what’s on the album. We’ll post the lyrics so you can sing along! (Just be careful where you sing it, or you might end up on some kind of shit list.)

We’ll push out details about the new single in future posts, so watch this space.

New Album: Pick your adventure!

Hey, like any band, Big Green is always thinking about the next project. You know how it is – you get one collection out into the world, and next thing you know, Matt’s got about seventeen new songs he wants to do. (Joe is a little slower on the uptake, frankly. Dude’s got issues.)

So, we’re back to where we were a couple of years ago. Should we do all new material, or should we work through the mountain of Ned Trek songs we produced over the previous decade? As before, the answer is, well, both, but this time around we’re leaning more in the direction of finishing out the Ned Trek catalog. That’s about 100 songs in total to choose from.

Our plan is to cherry pick the best numbers, work them over a bit, and release that as an album. The rest we will either release over time, collect in a volume 2 at some point, or just put out as a “pick your adventure” database. Either way, less work for mother. We’re lazy-ass mofos, let’s face it.

This day in history

On this day in 1986 (or sometime around this day), I started playing in a bar band out in the Albany area. A drummer I had worked with in previous bands was pushing the bandleader to hire me as a bassist, mostly because the leader’s girlfriend and lead vocalist was filling in on bass, and let’s just say … playing bass was not her strong suit. The keyboard player in the band was Ned Danison, and we had such a good time jamming together that we formed Big Green later that year.

Of course, before we did anything, we press ganged Ned’s friend Leif Zurmuhlen to take some promo shots of us, such as the one below. (Ned is on the right. The drummer is actually Leif, sitting in for our lack-of-drummer at that moment.)

Big Green (original cast)
Big Green in 1986

Matt still has that Rick bass (you can hear it on our last album) but the Kustom 88 piano is long gone. Damn, that sucker weighed a ton and sounded like ass. I absent mindedly left that scarf in a pizza joint in Saratoga something like a year later. And Matt’s hat was eaten by wolves, but anyway … that was the week that was.

Hey, hey … we weren’t The Monkees after all.

Bloody awful weather, isn’t it? Nobody knows better than my brother band-mate Matt, out every day in the great outdoors, slogging from bird’s nests to beaver ponds, feeding everything in sight. Damn, I get the chills just thinking about it. But then, I am a basement dweller by day … and by night, often times, twiddling dials on the seemingly never-ending album project Big Green is stumbling through.

Got to give him a lot of credit – he works like a dog, and yet still somehow finds the time and energy to write songs by the dozen. I mean, it’s not like we’re living in some communal band-house like The Monkees, every day full of hijinx and lip-syncing singalongs. Though, to be honest, that’s kind of how we started out.

Brokerton-On-Hudson

Picture this, people: a time long before nearly everyone had a high-def global network-connected video camera in their pocket. Can you see it? And do you hate it as much as we did? My guess is yes. Well, that’s when we started the scrum of washed-out musicians that eventually became Big Green.

Yes, we did have a Monkees-like communal band house. It was in a town called Castleton-on-Hudson, maybe ten miles south of Albany. We didn’t have a funky Monkees-like car, just a beat-up old Maverick, a 1968 Nova, and a capped C-10 pickup so ramshackle we called it “Ruck” (i.e. one letter short of a truck). Do three junks add up to a Monkees mobile? Ask your mother. Better yet, ask your grandmother.

Anyway, it was our practice space, songwriting retreat, whatever. We played a handful of gigs, made rough recordings, and did stupid shit, like stuffing pillows under our shirts and pretending we had gained 50 pounds overnight, just to freak the neighbors out. (Our guitarist, the late great Tim Walsh, was particularly good at this prank. So was our drummer back at that time, Mr. Phil Ross, seen on the inside cover of the collection – this post’s header image – hitting Tim over the head with a guitar, El Kabong style.)

What can I say? We were broke and easily amused.

Self-made bootlegs

Now, because this was indeed a time before digital photography (early 1980s), there’s little record of this time in our arrested development. A year or so after we left Castleton, though, Matt pulled together a compilation he called “The Todd Family Chronicles” which is a cassette collection of the songs – covers and originals – we played during that time and shortly thereafter.

Why “The Todd Family”? Experts disagree. Back in the day, Matt invented this joke character called “Toddy Ham” – an irritating little welp of the type we knew back in our suburban white-boy school days. (Toddy Ham is the kid with the whistle on the cobbled-together cassette cover shown above.)

The archeological record

What happened to the recordings? They’re still extant, if very fuzzy. I think the earliest thing we’ve posted is probably Silent As A Stone, which I talked about in a post back in 2022. But in reality, “The Todd Family Chronicles” wasn’t really a bootleg in a distributive sense – there were only a couple of copies. Not like the Christmas tapes, which Matt replicated in slightly larger quantities, or our EP tapes like “Songs That Remind Lincoln of the War”.

Photos? Very few, and most are just cheap photocopies of photos. We’re talking 43 years ago. Total miracle that we’re still producing something you can loosely describe as music, but there you have it.

More than a few blocks from factory village

2000 Years to Christmas

You know what they say, man. Everyone as time went by got a little bit older and a little bit slower. Stay in the toaster long enough, and hell, you’re toast. Stick a fork in it. Insert your favorite over-the-hill cliche here.

Hey, lookit – I know I’ve been more reflective over the past year than in previous years. When your ass starts to get old, it spends more time looking back. (It can hardly do anything else, actually.) I’ve posted a few reflections on the bad old days. Spun a few yarns about scraping the bottom of the barrel of backwater live music. Hey, there’s always room for one more story, right? Maybe.

Hippy anniversary

It happens that this spring is the 35th anniversary of a little project that coincided with the birth of Big Green, back in the eighties. I’m thinking of this now not so much because of the anniversary, but because I’ve been digitizing a video of a 1987 gig I played with Big Green co-founder Ned Danison and Ned’s childhood friend, the late songwriter Dale Haskell.

Dale had recorded an album around that time, and we played a few gigs to promote it locally in the Albany, NY, area. It wasn’t a big production, of course – we were broke, and Dale didn’t have access to a proper studio, so he tracked the album on a cassette portastudio and ran the cassette copies of the album off manually. (We all did that shit back then, because … well, see the previous sentence.)

God save the queen

Ned and I were trying to find work for Big Green – unsuccessfully, of course. Dale had helped us out with some demo work, and we agreed to back him up on his project. He booked three dates at QE2 in Albany, a club that is now called the Fuse Box, I believe, housed in an ancient White Tower burger joint on Central Ave.

At one of those gigs, in April 1987, we opened for the Athens, GA art rock band Love Tractor. Our photographer friend Leif Zurmuhlen brought his VHS camcorder to the gig and taped our set. At some point over the last thirty years, Leif gave me the tape and it’s been sitting in my television cabinet for decades. Until last week, that is, when I transferred it to MP4.

Ned, me, and Dale

Achtung, baby

Sadly, Dale passed away last year after some troubled times. I had told him via Facebook that I had the tape sometime over the previous year, but didn’t have the means to transcribe it until recently, by which time he was gone. If I can get the audio to sound decent, I’ll drop it via the Big Green Youtube channel in the next few weeks. Promises, promises.

Kind of a kick seeing Ned and me playing together, frankly. Ned’s doubling on keys and lead guitar; I’m thumping on my Fender P-bass, wearing a white tee shirt with the word “ACHTUNG” in block letters across my scrawny chest. God, those days sucked. But they had their moments.