Tag Archives: podcast

Usual Rubbish

Yours truly.

Our rocket test failed. Only two weeks to launch date and the thing can’t get off the ground. Some kind of rust blight has destroyed our food supply. And the gravity in the Hammer Mill (at least around Mitch’s lab) is intermittent and untrustworthy. Sounds like a good time to open the old mail bag!

Here’s one from fairly close by – a little town called Philadelphia.

Dear Big Green:

Your music is full of obscure references to old television shows. Why don’t you work more historical subject matter into your songs? That might attract a higher quality listener (like me).

Respectfully yours,

Horton Pompideau (signed in what appears to be grape juice)

Well, Horton. I’m glad you asked that question. In fact, if I were to make up a phony listener question, it would likely be something very much like that. (Fortunately, my strong ethical sensibilities keep me from stooping that low.) Actually, we do reference historical events, such as in the song Quality Lincoln, which was featured on the first episode of our new podcast, THIS IS BIG GREEN.  The thing is – and this is important – that song is as much about television as all the other ones. It’s like history thrown into the blender of television and turned up to “frappe” speed with the lid left off. So big chunks of history are flying out of the thing, and what you’re left with is a musical slurry of factoids, mostly unrelated to one another. That’s the creative process, man. Live with it.

Here’s another one:

Dear Big Green:

Final notice. Remit outstanding balance of $47.85 by close of business 12 September 2011. Non-compliance may result in criminal or civil penalty.

Warmly,

Ivan Pitcairn, Collections Officer
Hegemonic Energy Consortium and Worm Farm.

Oh, hey Ivan – long time no hear from. Didn’t I tell you the check is in the mail? If you have a problem with that, take it up with the postal service.  I only write the checks, not deliver them.

Okay, we’ve got time for one more. This looks like another local query… very local…

Dear Joe:

Get your butt back in the studio. And stop making up those ludicrous letters. We’ve got work to do, you fricking idiot!

Gratefully yours,

Matt Perry

Hey… it’s a little hard to argue with this writer. I have been slacking. Back to my padded (or at least sound retardant) cell, then.

Usual Rubbish

Close quarters.

Here. Squeeze your head into this helmet, see if it fits. What? No, I’ve never seen the movie Scarface. Not all the way through, anyway. Why?

Mother of pearl. I’m surrounded by moaners. Nobody wants to wear a freaking space helmet, not even Marvin (my personal robot assistant). He’s afraid of getting “helmet hair” of all things. (His so-called “hair” is made of leftover brass fittings from what appeared to be a Victorian era lawn mower.) I keep telling these people – if we’re going to pile into that substandard missile Mitch Macaphee found for us and fly to distant solar systems, we will need at least minimal protective gear, to include a) a helmet, b) a bag of oxygen, c) some portable food, preferably sandwiches, d) THERE IS NO “D”, e) boots, non hobnail variety, and f) a bunch of other stuff that you might need for space travel on the cheap. (Look it up on the Web.)

Would that that were the worst of our problems. Fact is, Mitch’s missile is a real piece of crap, not worthy of sending a payload of trailmix into space, let alone flesh-and-blood musicians such as ourselves. I have put out some inquiries about alternative transportation. Nothing yet, I’m afraid. Beginning to think we should abandon the idea of private transportation and just sign aboard one of those interstellar budget tours. You know – you take a jitney to the moon, wait there for about six days until the big Trailways spacebus shows up. You squeeze in next to a spotty couple from Boca Raton while a morbidly obese business man in a rumpled tan business suit coughs his lungs out in the seat behind you.

Yeah. Been there, done that, haven’t you? Well… haven’t we all? Anyway, I’m a little tired, frankly. Matt and I have been working at a furious pace ever since we started that pod cast. A session a week – nearly an hour and a half of music making! Yes, I know that sounds impossibly ambitious, but… we’re motivated. We’ve started about half a dozen recordings. Our plan is to do a rough initial draft of each song, play that on the podcast, then finish tracking the song and release it later as a finished number. We’re starting with Quality Lincoln, which will be featured on the next episode, due out…. in a matter of days…. right?

Right. Yeah, I’m tired. Sandman’s beating me to death. What did I ever do to him, eh?

Usual Rubbish

Pre-launch blues.

Gonna’ pump some liquid oxygen… and twirl my sextant dial. I said I’m gonna’ pump some liquid oxygen… and twirl my sextant dial. And when I lift you off that launch pad… baby you know you’ll ride in style. Oh, yeah!

Yeah, sounds like we need a little more chunkiness in the rhythm section. What? Oh… we have visitors. Hello, blogsters. It’s your old pal Bozo. Nothing like a little blues to take your mind of your troubles, eh? And a little country western to put it back on ’em. (Keep talkin’ like that, and more than a few Texans’ll want to treat me kinda ugly.)  Yeah, we’re just working our way down to our departure time. What will our interstellar conveyance be? Glad you asked. It’s about time someone asked. No one around the Hammer Mill has bothered inquiring. A strange disinterest has taken hold of Big Green and its entourage, apparently. It entered the room like a miasma, pulled up a chair and made itself at home.

Honestly, I don’t know how we’ll be hopping from planet to planet, star system to star system, on Big Green’s [INSERT NAME HERE] Interstellar Tour 2011. Mitch Macaphee was going to arrange a short term lease arrangement of some kind. He knows a guy who knows a guy, apparently. I think the delay comes out of the fact that the guy the guy he knows knows is, in fact, him. (Is there an echo in here? Wouldn’t be surprised.) So what the hell, maybe we don’t have reliable private transportation from Betelgeuse to Kaztropharius 137b. We can always take a commercial flight. There’s always priceline or expedia or whatever the fuck.

I think the reason why Mitch dropped the ball on this is that he’s been obsessed with his latest dabbling into time travel techniques. He’s got this new one – check this out. It’s a means by which people in the past can tunnel into the future and wait until we normal, moment by moment time travelers catch up with them. Mitch made a device about the size of an iPod that anchors you in time, so that as everyone else moves forward with the passing moments, you stay in one moment. (So it it’s 4:37p.m. on Tuesday when you hit the button, for you it will remain that time while time ticks on for everybody around you.) Then you hit another switch, and the thing launches you through a wormhole into the not-so-distant future – like an hour from now – where you sit frozen in a single moment and wait for “real time” to catch up with you. Then like a mail bag being snagged by a passing train, you start moving with normal time once it arrives.

Anyhow, you can see why he gets distracted. He’s sent Marvin (my personal robot assistant) on a test run. We should get to his moment…. any moment now.