Tag Archives: Marvin

Usual Rubbish

Cheap seat post.

All right, I admit it…. I got busy, then I got sleepy. We got busted, then we got badges.  But we can get into places they can’t.

Oooh, damn it. I’m channeling Tige Andrews on the Mod Squad. Just too many things to do around the Cheney Hammer Mill, and too little time. Ergo, this is a real cheap-seat posting, written on the fly. Just letting you know that our new single, “One Small Step”, has just arrived at iTunes and is ready to download for a low, low $.99 American.

You can dowload it today by going to: http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/one-small-step-single/id432236664

Watch the ludicrous video at our YouTube channel:
http://www.youtube.com/mansizedtuber

Okay… commercial’s over. I’ve got some sleeping to catch up on. Just let me get to it before Marvin (my personal robot assistant) starts playing that sousaphone again. (Don’t ask.) I’ll post a political rant sometime later this weekend, when I get my brain cells back in order. Cheers!

j

Usual Rubbish

The life.

1 Comment


I hate it when I misplace things. Where the hell did I put that sucker? You don’t suppose…? Oh, no. No, that’s too awful to contemplate. I refuse to concede the possibility of such an unhappy happenstance.

Oh, hi. Just spitballing here in the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill. Nothing to get excited about. Between Big Green tours, as you may already know, we tend to blow a lot of time in contemplation and various other pointless activities. Not because we are perennial time-wasters, you understand. No, no – it’s the ascetic lifestyle we aspire to. I know most bands drown themselves in drink, cloud their minds with illicit drugs, and indulge in multifarious pleasures of the flesh. Not this crew, my little friend – not a bit of it. We are like monks. (Did I say monks? I meant monkeys. Or Monkees. You take your pick.) We sit about, scratch, toss things at one another… until somebody says, get up there and play.

Funny thing is, when we play, it’s actually quite a lot like sitting around, scratching, and tossing things at one another. We just do it with guitars, drums, keys, etc. Some hollering as well. You see, this is why we are so popular on other planets (and in certain remote areas frequented only by wild animals). Big Green has never really broken into the terrestrial human market, though we’re certainly not averse to that. This may be mildly enlightening for those who have pondered the seemingly prevalent space references in our music. Songs like, well, Evening Crab Nebula (a Christmas song)…

If you’re gonna’ follow that evening star
better be sure how wise you are
If you’re gonna’ follow that evening star, better not follow it all too far
or you’ll be choked and froze in the vacuum of space
Can’t treat the Crab Nebula
like it’s there to direct ya’
by pointing out some pertinent biblical place

That’s just one example. And yeah, we’re aiming that at both an Earthbound audience and those folks out there in spaceland. Got to name-check a few communities they’re likely to recognize – kind of like those pop songs that have place names in them (like Huey Lewis naming cities at the end of “Heart of Rock and Roll”, for instance). When we’re up in the Crab Nebula, they wait for this song. They start waving their tentacles and nodding their oddly misshapen heads. It’s a gas.

So, sure… we may be different. But we take pride in our difference. For us, it makes all the difference that we’re different. And…. that’s all I’ve got.

Usual Rubbish

Cold porridge.


No, we’re not having porridge this evening, cold or otherwise. That was Marvin (my personal robot) typing the title for me as he does most weeks. Explains a lot.

What’s happening around this place? Usual kind of stuff. We’re preparing for the warm weather, which typically comes around this time in the northern hemisphere (for those of you browsing in from Madagascar). That’s kind of an involved process. We have to put out the fire we started in the basement last November. No, we don’t have a furnace – that’s for bourgeois rock bands and… what do they call them? …. symphony orchestras. Hell, no – no furnace for Big Green. We just bust up a bunch of old furniture, baskets, hammer stocks (of which there are many lying around the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill), and other combustibles, chuck ’em down the basement stairs, light ’em up, and keep it going until March.

Okay, so… first step, put out the fire. Second, open a few windows. I don’t know how many of you out there live in abandoned factories. (I’m guessing it’s less than a thousand on any given day.) For those of you who have permanent residences in actual houses or other appropriate human habitation, it’s probably hard to picture just what we have to go through to get some fresh air into this bloody great brick barn. All of the window hardware is rusted, all of the casings are cracked and paint-sealed. I think the only actual paint left is the stuff holding the windows closed.

Sure… I’m certain someone out there has already asked themselves (or their robot friend) “Why don’t they just break the windows?” Or perhaps you’re asking, “Does the moon weigh the same when it’s in crescent phase as it does when it’s full?” Or maybe you ponder other imponderables, such as the tides (they come in, they go out, never a miscommunication) or the weekend lineup on MSNBC. Well, there are answers to all of these questions…. but if I were to simply GIVE them away, you would think me an easy mark, wouldn’t you? No, no… everything has a price, my friend. Just let me know how much you want, and I’ll send it in the morning post.

Hmmm…. well, I’ve wandered a bit. Back to producing. Where’s that electric banjo?