Tag Archives: Anti-Lincoln

Summer projects.

2000 Years to Christmas

Gardening? God, no. I don’t know the first thing about it. And no, I’m not going to build you another gazebo. The first one burned down, fell over, and was washed into the sewer. Not doing that again, dude.

Yeah, I know – it’s not quite summer yet. Still, we’re trying to get our summer projects all lined up … mostly because there’s very little else to do around the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, particularly during this COVID-19 isolation time. Nothing happening, so we make lists of things that might happen. That makes sense, right? Anyway, I don’t think I have to tell you what Matt’s summer project is. Here’s a hint: it starts with an F and ends with an “alcon”. It flies around and lives on the side of tall buildings. It … oh, damn it, see for yourself! (Utica Falcon Project site) THAT’S my brother’s summer, people, and good on him.

The rest of us, well … mostly at loose ends. Antimatter Lincoln is dreaming of his revenge, though the dream is a bit murky, as I still don’t know who he wants revenge against. (He just says he swore he’d “keel” him, whatever that means. Some nautical reference, perhaps.) Mitch Macaphee plans to spend the summer packing up all of his experiments on Proxima B, now that it’s been discovered by non-evil Earth scientists. He was hoping to keep this big, rocky Earth-like planet under wraps, I think. Seriously, the dude would steal the Moon if he thought he could get away with it. (Actually, he claims to steal it every month, bit by bit, until it’s completely gone. Cute trick.)

Is this Proxima b or Proxima c? I always get them mixed up.

What about Marvin (my personal robot assistant)? Funny you should ask. You see, Marvin is an automaton, a service cyborg. He has no agency, you see. You simply program Marvin to do a certain thing, and off he goes. Sometimes, yes, he gets it wrong. (Actually, the “sometimes” is more indicative of how often he gets things right, but that’s another story.) If we programmed him to ride in circles all summer, that’s what he would do … though he wouldn’t be at all pleased. And me? I’m trying to resist gravity, but not so hard as to fly off into space. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) I’m also recording some older songs that never got onto any of our projects. We’ll see how it goes at the end of the summer – if they don’t suck, I’ll post them. If they suck …. yeah, I’ll probably post them anyway. You guys know me better than I know myself.

So, recording, archiving, bird-watching, revenge … we’ve got it all here at the hammer mill. This is going to be some summer.

About the ‘cano.

2000 Years to Christmas

There’s always the chance it could be legitimate. Why not? Must we always be so damn cynical? What happened to those happy-headed funsters we used to be back in 1978? Wait … we were never happy-headed funsters? Well … at least that explains what happened to them.

Once again, you catch us in the midst of a philosophical debate, an exquisitely complex conundrum that has confronted us in our COVIDian solitude. Well, perhaps I’m being too generous. Let’s just say we’re having a little difference of opinion. Nothing too weighty, you understand – after all, these are austere times, and we’re trying to be economical with our emotions (as we have little else to be economical with). Why don’t I describe the debate we’re having here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, and you can decide whether it rises to the level of a philosophical discussion? That I shall do.

As you know, when it comes to the matter of commercial success, Big Green is a smoking failure. We are so obscure, you’d think we spent the last thirty years trying to be unsuccessful (which, I suppose you could argue, we did). Nevertheless, we have resorted to various forms of representation. The first was Hegemonic Records and Worm Farm, the Indonesian corporate label that nearly clapped us in irons and threw us in a dungeon somewhere in Jakarta. Then we mutinied and set up our own label, Hammermade … but of course, that’s just a name, so we’ve had to work with actual distribution companies to get our albums out where people can find them (or not find them, as the case may be). That means we use the same digital distribution networks that most acts use, though i suspect those with decent representation and name recognition realize a better return on their streaming plays, downloads, etc., than we do. Fuckers!

In any case, every week or so we get stats from our distributor, and our numbers are usually somewhere halfway down the toilet (except for around the holidays, when Pagan Christmas takes off like a rocket, thanks to our pagan listeners). Then last week, we saw higher than usual numbers on the track Volcano Man, from our second album, International House. My initial reaction was the same as my reaction to everything else: “What the hell?” Marvin (my personal robot assistant) was immediately of the opinion that the song had finally found its mythical audience – that elusive unicorn of a loyal listener cohort that has been the stuff of speculation since we first donned our Big Green hair-hats and bark suits. (Marvin’s little video screen flashed the word “eureka”.)

That's what we're talking about.

Hey … you expect robot assistants to be a little over-enthusiastic, right? But then Anti-Lincoln and Mitch Macaphee, our mad science advisor, jumped in on Marvin’s side, so Matt and I had to disabuse them of their delusional optimism. Turns out there’s a rational explanation for everything – there’s a new song/video called Volcano Man that’s from an upcoming Will Ferrell movie entitled Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga. People were obviously looking for that Volcano Man and not our Volcano Man, which is quite different, though similarly ridiculous. Marvin’s not convinced – he thinks it’s all a coincidence. Anti-Lincoln is leaning more towards a conspiracy theory, which is totally like him. Not sure about Mitch – he’s moved on to another project.

Where was I going with this? No place special. Always wanted to go there.

Hands out.

2000 Years to Christmas

Huh. Still promoting the Christmas album, eh? Think that’s wise? I mean, it’s freaking May, man. What’s that? Okay. I’ll just stand over here, then, and not say anything.

Oh, hi. I was just talking to our advertising manager, a Mr. Antimatter Abraham Lincoln, esq., who spent some time as a railroad lawyer, I hear, and has since moved into marketing and PR. Perhaps a bit less mentally challenging for him, I suspect. Anyway, Anti-Lincoln has some very passionate opinions about what works and what doesn’t work. Interestingly, they don’t appear to have anything to do with standard measures of success, like sales, cash flow, etc. I’m not sure what he’s measuring, frankly. In as much as he is an anti-matter being, it’s possible that the less successful something is, the more of a success he considers it to be. If that’s the case, then Big Green is on top of the world in his book.

Yeah, trouble is … we’re on the bottom of the world in everyone else’s. I know, I know – the top and the bottom of the world are both cold, cold places, and nobody stays there long without a key to the ice station. Then there’s the radiation pouring through that ozone hole, and … um … I’ve lost the thread of this metaphor. Anyway, like every other band in America, we’re freaking dead in the water, hijacked by COVID-19, our gigs canceled, our audiences loathe to gather (and with good reason), our technicians fighting the cat for scraps. Many musicians have taken to the internets with virtual performances, either passing the virtual hat or running shows behind a pay wall. And many are discovering how little money there is in the internets. Shake it upside-down, and all you get is some gum wrappers and pocket lint.

Lincoln ... seriously. Give it up, man.

Some of you are aware that we of Big Green are old hands at the internet. Sure, we started life as an old-school, thrown-together, play-in-the-park-gazebo type of band. (That was in the Before Time, before the Awful Things.) We limped along in that mode for a number of years, then had a re-birth in the late 1990s as a virtual band, launching our first web presence in 1999, along with a page on the now-defunct mp3.com site (a domain that has been replaced by some exploitation pop culture news aggregator). This blog is just the most recent iteration of the garbage we’ve been posting since then. Trust me, no one knows better than us how little money there is to make on the internet. The thing will NEVER fly. But still … Anti-Lincoln will try. Unlike his posi-matter doppelganger, he really only cares about personal gain, not the fate of mankind … and some personal gain. He’s a gold-digger, old dishonest Abe.

Hey, everyone needs a hobby. Hobbies we got. Work? Not so much.