Tag Archives: Marvin

Usual Rubbish

Mixing business.

What time is it again? Morning already? Christ on a bike. If I don’t start getting some sleep, you’ll have to take over the bailing duties.

The voice of reasonOoops. Sorry. Didn’t realize I was typing this into a blog post (or that anyone was looking at me from the imaginary wall-side of my three-walled room). We were in the process of working out chore assignments here in the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill on this cold March morning in upstate New York, home of … well, abandoned factories … and crack-head shooters … and nervous deer. Come visit anytime!

The thing is, we are working diligently on the mixing of our next album, Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick – an odd, patchy collection of songs from a forgotten musical about Cousin (Governor) Rick Perry (the score for which, legend has it, was lost over the side of a pleasure craft on Lake Tahoe back in the seventies. True story). This painstaking work can sometimes last one, maybe two hours at a stretch, over an unrelenting schedule of nearly one evening per week, pushing late into the early evening hours. It’s as much as a person can do to keep body and soul together in this pressure cooker. Stop the madness!

All right, I have pulled myself together. (Phew!) Why are we keeping such a punishing schedule? Well, blame our corporate label, Hegemonic Records and Worm Farm, Inc. (a.k.a. Hegephonic Records). They will stop at nothing. First they send the Indonesian military after us. (That’s usually last for most people.) Then they take the unprecedented step of reprogramming Marvin (my personal robot assistant) into some kind of robotic taskmaster. Every time I freaking turn around now, Marvin’s giving me the dagger eyes and running a tape loop of John Cameron Swayze saying, “Did you do it yet? Did you do it yet?” (Strangely, Marvin also offers us Camel cigarettes, as if Hegemonic implanted some Swayze DNA in his hard drive.)

How to do all this without sleep? I should ask our mad science adviser, Mitch Macaphee, who hasn’t slept in years. (Hell, if I’d done half of what he’s done just during our relatively brief acquaintance, I’d never sleep again.)

Usual Rubbish

This just in.

Getting some feedback on our recent episode of THIS IS BIG GREEN, the monthly podcast we wrap together with gaffer tape and bailing wire (whatever the hell THAT is), stuffing it full of discarded hammer components left lying around from a previous era here at the Cheney Hammer Mill. It’s a smart podcast … about as smart as a box full of hammer heads. Yep, yep … we’ve got at least one brain between us. And then there’s Marvin (my personal robot assistant). He has an ELECTRONIC brain.

Okay, where was I? Ah, yes. Feedback. What has it been like? Kind of a whistling, whining sound that drops in and out. I think I left the speakers on while we were recording. Annoying, but tolerable. I suppose you were thinking by feedback I meant audience reactions to the podcast. Oh, no … that’s not what I had in mind at all. I couldn’t possibly post those comments here. The FCC would jump all over my shit. (And likely they’ll complain about that last sentence, as well.)

What can be said, right? Some may have taken offense at the latest episode of Ned Trek, featuring Willard Mitt Romney and his talking dressage horse Mr. Ned. Others may have objected to the blank verse I quoted from the poet Google YouTube (the automated video transcription bard), to wit:

uh,
about that system work so if you can see the slow-speed and very moment
antiquated castle green too
this is reviewing
uh… or it’s it’s mean-spirited
means german personal assistant
stats apparently to
little it’s little bit please
know the other night
the other side of the form of walnut

Not half bad … not that I’m an expert at this sort of thing. Maybe we’ve just reached an age when verse is not all that dissimilar from randomly generated word combinations. Auto poetry … what a concept!

So anyway … we may start writing some songs this way. Start with raw lyrics, read them into a video camera, post the video to YouTube and generate the transcript. Then re-record it as a song. It would sound! (Ask your father where that comes from.) The pop music equivalent of re-fried beans or twice baked potatoes.

Keep those cards and letters coming!

Usual Rubbish

Robo-pontiff?

Don’t mind me, or the deafening clatter you hear. That’s just the sound of me working on our next episode of THIS IS BIG GREEN, the podcast we hammer together every month or so. Why hammer it, you say? W.t.f. – we live in a hammer mill, for Pete’s sake. (Jesus, I’ve been doing that lame Romney imitation way too long.)

Our next pope?
Our next pope?

I suppose if you listen regularly to our podcast, it probably seems like not a lot of work goes into creating it – that it’s sort of slapped together randomly, like a salami sandwich made by someone who’s got a five minute lunch break. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yea, we take pains in building each episode, agonizing over every detail, every nuance. We spend weeks drafting the scripts. (Oh yes, even our random-sounding conversations are completely scripted.) Then it’s another week nailing down the timing, the miscues, the poor pronunciation, the stupidity. (We spend an entire day on inanity. Why? Because it’s worth it.)

Now, as you know, Big Green is a decidedly low-tech operation. We don’t have fancy cameras, microphones, or any of that new-fangled electricity. (Okay, well … yeah, that we have.) Our studio is primitive beyond redemption, and we are forced to record the spoken bits of the podcast without the aid of standard teleprompters. The best we can do is key the entire script into Marvin (my personal robot assistant), store it in his electronic brain, and ask him to display it on his anterior video monitor. Sure, we have to squint to read it, but it’s better than rattling a piece of paper in front of live mics.

The trouble with this method is that there are unintended consequences. Like this month, we talked about the Pope retiring. Once the lines from that script got into Marvin’s tiny brain, it started percolating through his various logic circuits, and the next thing we knew he was trying pointy hats on for size. He seems to have convinced himself that he’s in the running to replace Pope Benedict. (I think the idea appeals to his creator, Mitch Macaphee, our mad science advisor, who would very much like to be the power behind the pontiff.)

Would you like to see Marvin as the next pope? Let us know. Send us your thoughts and we’ll read them on the next episode.