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Usual Rubbish

Homearriving.

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Yeah, there’s some in here, too. Yep, all over the floor. Jesus Christ on a bike. Where are all the freaking buckets? Why don’t squatters have landlords … with buckets?

Oh, hi… Yes, Big Green has made its triumphant return to Earth from its somewhat less-than-triumphant [INSERT NAME HERE] Interstellar Tour 2011, pulling our rental spacecraft into a low, low … very low parking orbit (approximately 100 feet above the Earth’s surface) over the Cheney Hammer Mill, our abandoned mill of a home in upstate New York. And, as will happen when one leaves one’s home for a stretch of weeks, some maintenance issues have emerged to greet us, providing us with distraction even before we’ve had the chance to remove our tour galoshes. They say all roofs leak, but I doubt they all leak this badly. My converted hammer assembly room suite looks like a freaking swimming pool. I think I see fish.

Right, well… that’s the kind of problem you expect. What I didn’t expect was to have to deal with obstinate bandmates after our return as well as throughout the tour. I’m thinking specifically of … wait for it! … Marvin (my personal robot assistant). You may have thought I was going to say the mansized tuber, but really… he’s no trouble, hanging out in his specially climate-controlled terrarium, working his smartphone with both roots, tweeting pictures of himself in a methane sauna on Neptune. (Very therapeutic for cruciferous beings.) No, no… Marvin gets the prize this week. He has refused to leave the circa 2001: A Space Odyssey rent-a-vessel we took on this latest tear through the solar system. He has developed what Mitch Macaphee (our mad science advisor) calls “Hal 9000 Syndrome”. It’s a bit like Stockholm syndrome, except, well, a lot less congenial.

Okay, so Marvin is refusing to open the pod bay doors. This is not a tragedy. We’ve got too much on the agenda to care, frankly, so he can float up there, 100 feet above our heads, and play Captain Bligh to his brass heart’s content. Matt and I have a Christmas podcast to produce, and time is running thin… I mean, short. (Premise is running thin.) Lord knows we want to have an action packed episode of THIS IS BIG GREEN posted before the fat elf flies – an episode full of new recordings, old yuletide favorites, an outtake from our “classic” (i.e. elderly) album 2000 Years To Christmas, and just the sort of incoherent ramblings you expect from us.

No, no…. you don’t have to thank us. Just send buckets. Lots of buckets.

Usual Rubbish

Back to ground.

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Okay, then. Is that a wrap? What? It’s already the holiday season? What happened to freaking October? Okay, then… so it’s a Christmas wrap. Satisfied?

Oh, hi. Yeah, I know. After ten weeks on the road, tempers wear a little thin. What, you got a PROBLEM with that? (Sorry. I’ll start again.) Post Thanksgiving slump. This shipboard life is not for me; nor, apparently, is it for anyone else on board. Speaking of bored … this business of bobbing around the solar system is bloody tiresome. I don’t know how sFshzenKlyrn stands it, year after year, millennium after millennium. It’s just as well that he’s a transcendental etheric life form that ignores all boundaries between space, time, and whatever. (Especially the whatever. The man simply cannot take anything seriously.)

And then there’s Marvin (my personal robot assistant). He’s bouncing around this tin can like… like a robot in a tin can. Of course, he always gets antsy this time of year, when the big robotics convention is taking place back on Earth. He is constantly checking the Web for updates, seeing if any big strides have been made. Always has to be in the vanguard, our Marvin. Get used to it, man – one day, time leaves all of us behind. It’s freaking inevitable. In fact, it’s the great hairy screaming inevitable that is our universe. Who cares if some table-top tractor can solve equations faster than you do? You still can…. well…. lift very heavy things…

And then there’s the marigolds, the marigolds. What? Sorry… there  are no marigolds. Oxygen is running a little thin in this rattletrap we call a spacecraft. We’re somewhere between Jupiter and five miles away from Jupiter, running low on fuel, supplies, and what-not. Ever run out of what-not on an interstellar voyage? You do NOT want to know how awful that can be.

So anyway… it’s back to Earth for us, or the Earth that will be left when we return – an Earth wracked by climate change, war, illness, poverty, and rapacious corporate greed. Home sweet freaking home, just in time to do our annual Christmas Special podcast. Stay tuned!

Usual Rubbish

Seasoning.

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Season’s greetings to you all. And we of Big Green say hello as well, whatever the so-called “season” may have to say. (Who ever heard of a talking season?)

Just writing whilest we’re having a little Thanksgiving layover on Titan, moon of Saturn, mother of all Tofurky. (Yes, this is where it comes from.) Taking a little break from the feasting, conversing, and pontificating (Anti-Lincoln is back on his Mexican-American War soapbox again), so this is a good time to open the mail, it seems. Most of our inquiries appear to be about our podcast, THIS IS BIG GREEN, so let’s start with this:

Dear Big Green:

On your podcast, I heard you read a bogus letter asking why so many of your songs are about war. You, of course, never answered the question to anyone’s satisfaction. I now challenge you to do this thing. What is with the war kick?

Sincerely,

Gen. Douglas MacArthur (deceased)

Well, General – thanks for listening to our podcast, first of all. Why do we write about war? I don’t know. Why do we write about Christmas? Sure, we’re not soldiers, but then we’re not practicing Christians, so neither makes sense. I guess you could say we’re just ranging around for material, grabbing anything that doesn’t run away screaming. (And some things that do.) Sometimes we ask Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to name themes for us using his autonomic radomizer. We’re that desperate, dude.

Here’s another:

Dear Big Green:

I’ve listened to your previously unreleased songs. They sound, well, half-baked. Is that intentional, or are you just too damn lazy to finish them?

Best,

Phil Specter (deceased)

Hey, Phil – it’s a fair question. Yeah, the previously unreleased songs on the podcast are, in fact, literally half-baked. They are first drafts, if you will (or even if you won’t), of recordings for our next collection of material. We’re planning to track the better ones and release them under separate cover. These initial recordings are basically Matt and I playing the songs like we do as a two-man band, with a basic rhythm track, guitar, keys, vocals. That’s it. No wall of sound yet. We’re working on the sheet rock right now, man. Patience!

Whoa, is that the time? Back to the Tofurky fest for me. Cheers.

Usual Rubbish

Over the river (of nitrogen)

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A little colder than I expected for this time of year. Minus 254 degrees Kelvin. Crikey – better put on another pair of socks.

Yes, friends – Big Green is spending another traditional family holiday a long, long way from home. It’s Thanksgiving on Neptune, and I have to say, this holiday doesn’t mean much to folks up here. The casinos are filled with punters, and I don’t think they’re shipping them in from Saturn. It’s just another day to these creatures. And as we enter the final (turkey) leg of our [INSERT NAME HERE] Interstellar Tour 2011, we have another succession of bizarre events to greet us. Here is the week that was:

11.14.2011 – Took up residence in the Neptune Hyatt resort. A bit seedy if you ask me. I think they stole the name, actually – everything’s bootlegged up here. Even our albums. Hell, we’re giving them away on Neptune and they still bootleg them. I think it’s for the sheer joy of doing it. There is, I imagine, a certain satisfaction in sticking it to the man. My only question is… when did we become “the man”?

11.15.2011 – Hit the stage at 0400 hours Neptune time. Gravity was a little uneven this afternoon. Little known fact about the Neptunians – they’ve discovered the secret to gravitational force. Their scientists have been messing with it for years now, and I have to say that the results appear mixed at best. As far as anyone can tell, they’ve only managed to make gravity more like the weather. So our feet left the stage as we ran through “Just Five Seconds” and “I Hate Your Face”, but it wasn’t from exhilaration. Damned scientists!

11.17.2011 – With the holiday season approaching, it seems like a good time to get some shopping done out here in the outer solar system, where most of the big outlet stores are located these days. (Ever wonder what happened to STARS? You guessed it.) So we took the day off, rummaging through bins, riding escalators, hiring forklifts to check out what that big box on the top shelf might contain, etc.  Marvin (my personal robot assistant) set his sensors to savings.  Just like the old days, Steve. (Steve? I must be running low on oxygen.)

Took a little time out to post Episode 4 of our podcast, THIS IS BIG GREEN, featuring rambling conversation with Matt Perry, another song from cousin Rick, an explanation of Grandfather’s War, a “first draft” new recording of I Hate Your Face with accompanying commentary, and other unexplainable phenomena.  Let us know what you think. We’ll be finishing our shopping.

Usual Rubbish

Tour log: five-oh

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Merry Christmas, Children? Not sure I remember the parts. Besides, that’s … well … challenging. Anything easier for the season? Jit-Jaguar? That’s a Christmas song? Oh, right.

Hey, sorry. Just working out the set list for our next string of performances. We’re not one of those groups that just gets up on stage in front of 20,000 people (or 20,000 amorphous blobs of protoplasm) and wings it, playing whatever comes into our heads. No, sir … we plan out every inch of our stage show, from the song list to the dance steps to Marvin (my personal robot assistant) juggling torches. (Yes, that’s right, Marvin – it’s torches this time! Deal with it!)

Right, well … okay, we don’t have dance steps per se. Nor set lists. But we do work up a vague idea of what we’re going to play over the course of the next week. That’s called planning, my friends. How does it work out in the specific context of Big Green’s [INSERT NAME HERE] INTERSTELLAR TOUR 2011? Here’s how…

11.8.2011 – Cranking out Jit-Jaguar in front of 20,000 Neptunians. They like the part about the tin pot politician apologizing to “Mr. Jesus” for calling out for robotic revenge on the town that rejected him. (Oh, yes… it’s titanic theme night here on Neptune.) It’s a bit of schtick, but we always bring Marvin out for this number, just so that the audience has a robot to look at while we sing of, well, robots. Never mind the cognitive dissonance of employing a peaceful robot to evoke the image of a warlike one. We give the people what they want – end of story.

11.10.2011 – Busted! Pulled over by the interplanetary highway patrol for doing 1/2C in a 1/4C zone. Anti-Lincoln was driving. Yeah, that was kind of a mistake, come to think of it. Mitch Macaphee was on break at the time, and Anti- was handy. (I call him “Auntie” sometimes because he just hates that.) The patrol hung an appearance ticket on us. We’ll probably just send the check along with our guilty plea … if the Post Office still delivers to Titan. (Cutbacks, you know. Now they send all of Pluto’s mail to Saturn for processing.)

11.11.2011 – My, but that’s a lot of elevens. And look… it’s 11:11 a.m. Time to play Wrap Up World War I.

Next stop: mystery planet opposite the sun from Earth. You know… where everything’s a mirror image of Earth, except that people eat corn on the cob on the vertical. (We learned of this from Saint Guido Sarducci.)

Usual Rubbish

Tour log (third story).

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What is all the ruckus about? I told you we were bringing equipment with us. And no, we don’t need unicycles. We can get around on our own two feet, thank you very much.

That’s the problem with interstellar tours, my friends. A billion opportunities for misunderstandings. No shortage of those, particularly when you’re traveling with the two Lincolns (posi- and anti-), as we appear to be out here on Big Green’s vaunted [INSERT NAME HERE] INTERSTELLAR TOUR 2011. Anyway, here’s how it went down this week:

10.25.2011 – Our first full night on Kaztropharius 137b. If anything, it’s quiet – too quiet. Keep forgetting that there’s no atmosphere here, ergo, no sound. (Or is it “air-go; no sound”? You decide.)  We strummed our way silently through about a dozen tunes. The denizens of this strange little rock appeared partial to “My Bed”, one of Matt’s dream-sequence numbers. They pick up vibrations from our instruments via the floor of the venue. (They all appear to be equipped with stethoscopes. Looks kind of odd from on stage.) sFshzenKlyrn ripped the song a third corn chute, as the Simpsons once put it. Another triumph.

10.28.2011 – Pulling away after three successful gigs on Kaztropharius. By successful, I mean survivable… but only just barely. Anti-Lincoln decided to take a stroll down by the river district, apparently. Well, he got kind of drunk and one thing led to another. I’m not precisely sure how he acquired the riding saddle, but however it happened, he seems to have won first prize. We are now band non grata on Kaztropharius 137b. Nice work, anti-Lincoln! Who’s going to eat our discs now, pray tell?

10.29.2011 – Well, now he’s done it. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has trashed the hyperdrive. He has this self-preservation circuit that compels him to replace any defective parts with whatever’s available. He needed a certain kind of chip for one of his motor circuits, and… well… he found one in our rent-a-ship’s hyper drive. So now we’re chugging along at the interstellar equivalent of 25 miles an hour, garbage scows passing us like we’re standing still. Got a string of gigs waiting for us, and at this rate, we’ll get to the first of them sometime in early 3109011 A.D. My guess is that they’ll pull out on us. What’s yours?

Oh well. Do me a favor, eh? Email me a diagram for a q47 space modulator chip.  Just google it. Thanks a million.

Usual Rubbish

Tour log (part deux).

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There are no filling stations out yonder. Just ask Warren Oates. If you can’t find him, seek out another character actor and ask him or her. You may be surprised by their answer. (Or not.)

Here’s what happened on the “road” this week:

10.15.2011 – Pulled into Neptune, was feeling ’bout half-past dead. Our rent-a-ship has been sputtering, so we brought it into a Neptunian garage for service. The cost? Full proceeds from our three performances on Neptune, plus 9% excise tax. (Looks like Herman Cain is having an impact up here, as well. The craters tell the tale.) sFshzenKlyrn practically melted his Telecaster on the fourth song (Why Not Call It George?), then settled down for a succulent Neptunian roast. (Roasted crater peat. This is important: Neptunian is not … repeat, not … one of the great cuisines.)

10.17.2011 – Strange how Polaris looks like downtown Rochester. Could be worse. We set up on a suspended platform – one of those anti-gravity jobs you see all over the place on Kaztropharius 137b – and went through the better part of our song list. Looks like we’ll have to work up some more numbers. The Polaroids experience time in extreme slow motion – the equivalent of about 14 hours to each of our standard Earth minutes. Kind of a difficult gap to fill, actually. Hey dudes…. how about a slow one? 

10.19.2011 – Right through the center of the Great Onion Ring. You full-time terrestrials know it as the Ring Nebula, but out here they associate it with their favorite snack. Pity, really, that more interstellar phenomena aren’t named for appropriate junk food back on Earth. After all, we invented junk food, we perfected it, we raised it to a high cultural value, and we defend it with our lives. The Greeks had their gods, sure. But we have our Ring Dings.

10.20.2011 – Closing in on the next venue; that hideous little globe named Kaztropharius 137b … the one place in god’s great universe where our CDs sell like hot cakes. I may have explained this before – the denizens of Kaztropharius 137b eat complex plastics, so to put a fine point on it, our CDs are, in fact, hot cakes to them. And we’re okay with that. Just settling in for a few night gigs.

Hey…. we’re not idle on the road. Always thinking, you know. We posted the third episode of our increasingly strange podcast, THIS IS BIG GREEN. Check it out at http://www.big-green.net/pod and be not ashamed.

Usual Rubbish

Long view.

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Electrodes to power. Turbines to speed. Vector diagrams to light board. Finger fins to the driver behind. Quarter to three in the afternoon. What am I saying?

Doesn’t matter, really. We’re getting close to the departure date on Big Green’s [INSERT NAME HERE] Interstellar Tour 2011, our hotly-anticipated romp through the musical hinterlands of outer space, with planned stops in the Jovian system (Jupiter for you space travel novices), Betelgeuse, Kaztropharius 137b, Sirius, and the planet Zenon in the Small Magellanic Cloud, home base of our sometime-guitarist, sFshzenKlyrn.  Yes, I know – last time we stopped there we took a few lumps, but they’ve since healed up, and hey – never let it be said that we let experience stand in the way of a good lapse in judgment. Still got it, baby.

Anyhow, we’re just running through our confusing array of pre-launch checklists. Can’t be too careful these days, particularly when your vehicle has such a spotted past as the one we’ve rented for the occasion. Some of these lists are so damn mundane, though, it hardly seems justified…. but protocol is protocol. Here’s a for instance: (1) spacecraft fuel, check! (2) spacecraft, check!  (3) passengers and crew, check! (4) desire to depart for interstellar destinations, check! Who the f**k came up with that? My guess is that it was Marvin (my personal robot assistant), due to the rote existential nature of his selections. But I digress.

Another thing that doesn’t much matter: we haven’t really worked out a set list yet. Or any of the songs that would populate a set list. That would involve rehearsal, you see, and as a very wise horn player once told me, rehearsal is just a crutch for cats who can’t blow. Normally I don’t take such vouchsafes as gospel, but THIS time…. well, I daren’t disregard such an obviously valuable insight. Anyway, Matt and I have been recording some numbers for the podcast (This Is Big Green), so we will probably remember those songs at the very least. That’s about… oh…. half a set. Then there are the songs we make up on the spot. And of course, the mansized tuber plays a little accordion. (Don’t ask how little. Just… don’t.)

Okay, so yeah…. we’ve got a lot of getting together to do before our departure next week. But no fear- Big Green is up to this challenge. In fact, we’ve got a check list for this very situation. Left it around here…. somewhere…

Usual Rubbish

Tune it.

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Turn the first little knob on the top. Yes, that one. Turn it. A little more. More. Right, now back it off a little. Good… now the next one – turn it clockwise. I said CLOCKWISE! What do you mean you’re from the land down under? What’s THAT got to do with ANYTHING?

Ho, man. Just getting ready for BIG GREEN’S [INSERT NAME HERE] INTERSTELLAR TOUR 2011, and as you can see, Marvin (my personal robot assistant) will be the guitar tech again this time out. Thought it might be wise to go over the basics, just one more time, before we really need his help. No, he can’t tune a six-string guitar all by himself. He needs someone to hold the fat end while he turns the tuners – but that’s not the main drawback. You see, Marvin is made of bits left over from other experiments, in essence, including machine parts from Mitch Macaphee’s shop – air powered tools, drills, vise-grips, sanders, and the like. Sometimes when you ask him to do an open tuning on the Martin, he turns that tuner like he’s taking an air wrench to a lug nut… then it’s SNAP!  He also gets very confused on Matt’s Ovation 12-string, which Matt has set up like a six-string. (Too many machines.)

Would that that were our most serious problem on this tour. Not a bit of it. I told you, I seem to recall, about the dark vessel Mitch appears to have hired for our transport. It resembles that ship that took that fateful journey to Jupiter in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Now, that wouldn’t make me particularly nervous… except that Jupiter is on our itinerary. Seems like too much of a coincidence. No one else seems uncomfortable, but… well… I am. Open the pod door, Marvin. I said OPEN THE POD DOOR, MARVIN!

Guess I should start being nicer to the boy. At least pre-emptively. You never know what kind of situation you might find yourself in. I can imagine a scenario wherein we might find ourselves trapped in a reality that resembles what people in 1967 thought 1999 would look like.  That would not be good. But anyway….

We have a tour to plan. Bookings to book. Shoes to pack. Songs to rehearse. And guitars to tune. MARVIN!! (Please…) 

Usual Rubbish

Pod bay door.

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The good news is, we’ve scored a ride to the stars. The bad news is… it’s aboard a doomed ship sent from hell. Not the kind of luxury we’re accustomed to, but hey… we’ll manage.

Big Green will be departing for Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto, and points east (I believe it’s east) on September 29 for our [INSERT NAME HERE] Interstellar Tour 2011. Not that the date is much of a concern, now that Mitch Macaphee has a tenuous hold on the time-space continuum. If we miss our launch date, what the hell, we just have Mitch send us back a few days. Depending upon what kind of a mood he’s in, that could be easy or hard, very hard. (Actually, Matt thinks that if you run backwards really fast, you will go back in time. Call me a skeptic… though I’ve noticed that when you run forward real fast, time seems to move forward. If this were an elegant universe, the converse would be true. And no, I don’t mean the sneaker.)

I should mention that, as we wait for our departure, we are in the midst of what I would call a series of “mini-sessions” in our Hammer Mill basement studio. These are related to production of our new podcast, THIS IS BIG GREEN, the second installment of which is now available on iTunes and directly from us peoples. This time out we’re featuring a somewhat rich discussion of the thinking (or lack of same) behind our song “Quality Lincoln”, a rough draft of which we include on the podcast. What we’re doing is laying the basic tracks for a song, playing that on the podcast, and then finishing the song later for separate release. The result may be another album, a series of EPs, or something else entirely.

I should also add that “Quality Lincoln” is not so much one song, but rather three songs, knit together with sturdy fibers of ludicrousness. I suppose there are better ways to spend one’s time as he/she waits for an accursed space vessel to pick him/her up. I just can’t think of any, and I’ll wager neither can you.  Or perhaps I am mistaken.

Well, is that the time? Was that me talking just then? Perhaps. Hey – give the podcast a listen and let us know what you think. Send an email or something. More fodder for the podcast.