Tag Archives: archives

Project zero.

Someone’s knocking at the front gate – I can hear them. Anti Lincoln, can you see who it is? No, of course you can’t see them from down here in the basement. I meant go up stairs and take a look. Jesus …. how did you EVER serve as president? (Actually, I think I may now know the answer.)

Well, I spent this week counting the number of balls I’ve dropped since the start of the summer. And I don’t mean ping pong balls. No, I’m talking about projects started and never finished, plans laid but not implemented, sandwiches assembled but not eaten, sentences commenced but never …. what was I saying? Oh yeah. I never finish anything, and this summer is no exception, folks.

First there was the archive project. I will admit, I did get further on this one than any of the others. I’ve resurrected about 200 songs, by my rough count, all recorded in the eighties and early to mid nineties. I have the files … I haven’t done anything with them, but I HAVE them. And possession is nine tenths of the law. It’s also about ten tenths of this project. No, I haven’t abandoned it, but I did need a break from archive land, just as Matt has needed some extra time to go chasing falcons around (see the Utica Peregrine Falcon project site at http://www.big-green.net/falcon).

Think you can shake a tambourine?Then there’s the interstellar tour idea we were kicking around. What happened to that? Well, apparently someone kicked it into next week, figuratively speaking. I’m not ruling it out, but no one aside from Marvin (my personal robot assistant) and his inventor, our mad science advisor Mitch Macaphee has any inclination towards doing the fucker. And frankly, neither one of them can play an instrument (though Mitch can use instruments in his work … and Marvin sometimes makes a noise like a fire whistle). That’s not the kind of band I can bring to Neptune! Those crystalline ice creatures would laugh us out of orbit, and THEN where would we be.

Okay, so archives all but abandoned, check. Tour forgotten, check. What’s left? Project zero? Let’s get to work then. But first … answer the freaking door!

Which bucket?

I know it’s the dead of summer, but I’m tired of all this drag-and-drop bullshit. Can’t we take a break and hang out in the courtyard for an hour or two, sipping cool drinks and listening to some boss tunes? No? Sheesh.

Okay, so yes, I’m frittering away my summer in the basement of the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, keeping my head down, concentrating on the task before me. What task is that, you may ask? And well you may. Archiving, my friends, archiving. Plowing through decades of audio tape, capturing songs that have never been committed to a hard drive; songs recorded on primitive ribbons of tape, stored away in shoeboxes, and nearly forgotten. Literally hundreds of recordings, the overwhelming majority made by Matt in the privacy of my abandoned bedroom.

Who says you can't carry a tune in a bucket?It’s an exhausting undertaking, particularly when you are as work-averse as I am. Still, I’ve made pretty good progress. I’ve gotten most of them transferred to digital, and now I’m pruning around the edges, looking for songs that I know exist but haven’t located on tape as of yet. I’m also trying to fit all of Matt’s Christmas song collections into appropriate buckets — he did about eleven of them, starting with a handful of songs in 1985 up through 1995. They represent a subset of his total output, but even so, it amounts to about 60 – 70 songs. I’m curating them so that at some point interested parties can listen to each year’s collection in its original sequence.

What’s the point of this pointless exercise? Well, it’s one way to kill a summer … before the summer kills me. It’s kill or be killed in this era of climate change. So I wind my way down to the cool basement and dig through old banker boxes looking for buried treasure from the forgotten eighties. (Forgotten because no one seems to remember much of what happened during that decade.) At some point, I will find a way to post versions of at least a selection of these songs, though I must admit that my preference is for building that big, honking web jukebox I mentioned a few weeks back – just belly up to the interactive console and pick a number between one and three hundred. Sounds like a plan.

Hey, Marvin (my personal robot assistant) …. close the door on your way out. And yes … that’s my way of saying GET OUT.

Carbon trail.

Where the hell is that thing. It looks like, I don’t know … a futuristic space gun, or someone’s concept of what a 1980s weapon would look like back in 1953. Yeah, that’s the ticket.

Oh, hi. Just digging out the old technology here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, which (oddly enough) appears to contain every object I have ever owned and then some. It’s like that house you keep returning to in your dreams – you know … the one that looks kind of like the house you grew up in but that has a whole extra wing built onto one side that you never knew existed. You’ve been there, right? Or is that just me? I think it must be me. (I’ve been answering that very same question for decades now.)

Okay, so today, I asked Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to dig up my old demagnetizer. It’s a plastic thing that looks like a cross between an electric iron and a glue gun, and it’s used to service the heads on analog tape recorders, which tend to get magnetized after scraping against that magnetic tape for hours upon hours. Why is that a bad thing? I haven’t any idea. All I can say is that, when Marvin gets magnetized, it can be extremely problematic … especially if he’s outside when the street cleaning machine comes along. (We had to pry him off that thing with a snow shovel once. It wasn’t pretty.)

Go easy, Marvin.Small wonder the heads on my antiquated cassette tape machine have picked up a charge; I’ve been running hours of tape through that thing as part of my summer project to archive and restore Big Green’s early recordings (1984-96) as well as some even more primordial stuff from the early 80s. Since practically all of the songs were recorded on analog audio cassette, which doesn’t hold up all that well over the decades, it’s just as well that I’m getting to this now. By the end of the process, I hope to have remastered early mixes of 150 to 200 songs, the vast majority written by my illustrious brother, Matt. That shiny tape makes for a bewildering trail (which is, in fact, pretty close to the title of one of those 200 songs).

You folks have heard a few examples from our early work. After this project is done, I expect you’ll hear more, but don’t quote me. I may get demagnetized before that happens.