Tag Archives: Bill Conrad

The Lincoln trilogy: a slight digression

Now, I think you all know that Big Green is bad at predictions. We’re not prognosticators or weather forecasters, and we have no magic stone that allows us to see the future. I can tell you what I’ll have for breakfast tomorrow, but that’s only because I’ve been having the same breakfast for nigh unto thirty years. Anything harder than that is just too damn hard.

That’s a long way of saying that we won’t be releasing our new album this Fall, as we had predicted. After painstaking consideration and much rending of garments (which took about five minutes), we decided to push the release to Spring. Why, you may ask? I offer this simple explanation: the quality goes in before the name goes on. That’s right – making a Big Green album is like building a Zenith radio in the nineteen fifties. The only thing missing is the voice of Bill Conrad.

Now, quality is a relative thing, son

Yes, I know … Big Green isn’t known for maintaining stringent quality control standards. That’s not our jam, mothers. No sir – we try to get the feel right. And when that happens, we know it down to the soles of our cheap-ass shoes. If the overall quality has to suffer, so be it, my friend. Those are our principles. And if you don’t like them, well …. we have other principles.

Still, even Big Green has minimum quality standards. The mixes from this new album were just skimming the bar, low as it may be, so we need a little more time. For we will serve no wine before its …. oh, god damnit! Not another slogan!

So, anyway … we’re giving it another six months, just for good measure. And in the interim, since you’ve been such good children, I will regale you with the story of one of our early songs. As I mentioned before, our upcoming album has a bunch of kind of serious songs, or Gumby songs, if you will. The song we’ll be dissecting today comes from a previous Big Green era, when all of our songs were strange ….. very strange.

You would have liked Lincoln

Speaking of quality, the song I’m going to explore is called Quality Lincoln, and it’s actually a medley of three smaller songs, one building on the randomness of the other. Matt and I wrote it back in 1990 or 1991, I believe, and I don’t believe we ever performed it in front of an audience or recorded it seriously. (Not sure it’s possible to record such a silly song seriously, but I digress.)

We did a cheap-ass basement recording of it for our THIS IS BIG GREEN podcast back in 2016. You can find the full lyric in our lyrics section. Now you can sing along …. but what does it mean?

We don’t pretend to know the meaning of any of our songs, but here’s my take, based on years of close textual reading, tarot cards, astrological deep dives, and so on.

Shouldn’t happen to our quality nation’s president

So the song starts with:

Lincoln suffered from depression, Joe
but it wasn’t because of the war, you know

and it wasn’t because of his son who died
or the wacky behavior of his bride

Okay, picture a suburban couch potato back in the 1980s. Maybe s/he is watching something about Lincoln or reading a magazine article. This is the take-away (and I don’t mean snacks from the local noodle shop) – Lincoln had a rare disease | that turned him into a chimpanzee | They didn’t have the know-how in those days.

This is the nature of pre-internet conspiracy theory – using legacy media to fill in the blanks, connecting things that are both questionable and wholly unrelated to one another.

How do we get into outer space? It’s all about Colonel Smith, played by the character actor Henry Jones in Lost In Space. The narrator of the song sees Jones play this part (that of a cartoon-like antebellum southern colonel) but also sees Jones play a traitorous Civil War commanding officer in The Big Valley – an officer who was part of the plot to assassinate Lincoln. Same actor, same person. We make the connection like this:

I was a Reb in the guise of a Union Colonel
with all those fools
I butchered a town just to prove to them that I was a loyal
Lincoln tool
Then in order to escape my shame
I wandered into outer space

and here I am

The last section is in the voice of Colonel Smith, describing his ridiculous attempt to blow Dr. Smith sky-high with an exploding cream pie, cursing himself as “the Smith that gave all of the Smiths a bad name,” and ending on a rationalization of his conspiracy to kill Lincoln with a nod to MacBeth:

Safe until great Birnam Wood scaled high Dunsinane
He was the Lincoln who gave every king their bad name

Our promise to you

I know I promised new content in the Fall, so now my credibility is in shambles. That said, on behalf of Big Green, I solemnly promise that we will not use tortured metaphors or obscure television characters in any of the songs on our new album. Take that to the bank.

Chain of contact.

2000 Years to Christmas

Well, that’s a start. So, where did you go yesterday evening? Oh, okay. I didn’t know there was a pinball alley in this burg. News to me. Do they have any old Bally machines? Seriously? Got a quarter?

Oh, hi. Well, we were just starting to get back on our feet this week here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill in upstate New York, Big Green’s adopted home, in the wake of last week’s medical debacle. Then fate moved its mighty hand, as Bill Conrad used to say in the opening sequence of The Fugitive. Now we’re all at sixes and sevens. In fact, some of us are at eights and nines, and that can’t be good. Pretty soon we’ll be fresh out of numbers.

So what’s the beef? Well, it turns out that Marvin (my personal robot assistant) was at some point exposed to the COVID-19 virus. We don’t know how or when, but apparently it was someone at the pinball palace down the street … could be the quartermaster (you know, the guy who doles out the quarters to the punters) or the barmaid, or maybe a fellow patron. They can’t say, apparently, because of Hippa … Hippa McGillicutty, the owner of the joint, who apparently takes a dim view of such disclosures. Damnation.

Marvin's last known contacts.

You know what this means, right? We have to trace all of Marvin’s contacts over the past month or so. Even more problematic – some of those contacts are, well, us. Well, that shortens the list. To simplify matters a bit, I asked Mitch Macaphee to do a level-four diagnostic on his proud invention (Marvin) so that we can have a readout of his activities over that time. He told me that there was no such thing as a level-four diagnostic, even though I distinctly remember hearing it on a television program. After that little back and forth, he plugged what looked like a table lamp into Marvin’s USB port. The light bulb started flashing a semaphore-like code, and Mitch rendered it into this list:

  • Tumble dryer, corner laundromat
  • Stamp dispenser, post office
  • Gas pump, filling station, fourth and main
  • Air compressor, mechanic’s shop next door to filling station
  • Computer terminal, public library

Okay, so … those are all machines. Should we be concerned that Marvin’s only friends are inanimate objects? Or should we be thankful that he’s not rolling around town like Typhoid Mary on gimbals? Troubled times, indeed!