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Usual Rubbish

Inside September: The Concert That Wasn’t

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2000 Years to Christmas

What are we calling it? A mini concert? No, that’s too diminutive. A midi concert? Nah … that sounds like I’m running everything with a sequencer. How about a nano-concert? After all, Anti-Lincoln loves peanut butter and nano sandwiches. That’s as good a reason as any.

Well, as usual, your friends in Big Green are putting the cart before the horse. in fact, we’ve gone so far as to actually put the horse in the cart and start pulling the cart around with our teeth. We’re giving him a fun fun horsey ride, only now we’re all going to need orthodontic care and neck braces. But I digress.

What I’m really trying to say (and failing miserably) is that our September THIS IS BIG GREEN podcast includes a solo performance of some six Big Green songs, and instead of coming up with a snappy name for that performance, we just dropped it into the grand pachinko machine known as the internet and left it for you, our listeners, to decide what the hell is going on.

So, well after the fact, we are offering this modest guide to the September Podcast and the six songs I played on acoustic guitar and piano:

Round Up

This is a song I wrote in the mid nineties after hearing a story about a rowdy, racist ATF get-together known as the Good Ol’ Boys Roundup. It’s a bit about that actual party, but really more about the racist culture of law enforcement writ large.

Hey, Caveman

My illustrious brother Matt wrote this song in the 1990s. The title is a callback to an incident in the eighties, I believe, when a friend of our hollered “Hey Caveman” out a second story window to a passerby on the street (a man in robes with a large staff, no less).

Hey, Abe .... what's your favorite nano sandwich?

Do It Every Time

A solo version of a song from our second album, International House. Features some fancy guitar work (NOT) by yours truly.

Meet Me in the Middle

A song I wrote just prior to the COVID pandemic, phase one, when a lot of people were hoping for a bridge of kindness between the two imaginary peaks of Kilimanjaro. This one I actually play on piano, which is an instrument I’ve actually played before. No prior release on this one, though I did do a semi-proper recording of it.

Johnny’s Gun

Another song from International House, this time with gravy. This is a song I wrote after a mass shooting in Brookline, Massachusetts back in 1994. A guy named John Salvi shot up an abortion clinic. The song isn’t really about Salvi – more just about our culture of violence, how we celebrate it in some contexts (i.e. war) and revile it in others (mass shootings at home).

Rich Man

This is an old song, from probably around 1986 or so – maybe the first Big Green song I ever wrote. Another not-previously-released number, along with Meet Me In The Middle, Roundup, and Caveman.

That’s the story, Morey. I have videos of these performances and will post them on our YouTube channel by and by, so that you can see how ridiculous I look when I’m trying to play a guitar and sing at the same time.

Usual Rubbish

Getting all the flashing lights straight

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2000 Years to Christmas

There, that’s got it. Perfect execution. Couldn’t do another one like that if I tried. Okay, Marvin, you can hit the stop button. Wait, what? YOU DIDN’T HIT RECORD?

Hi, everybody. While this seems like the very next moment in my blog post, it’s actually several hours after wrote that intro. It takes me that long to disassemble Marvin (my personal robot assistant) piece by piece and then put him back together. And as I am not particularly mechanically inclined, I usually get something wrong on the assembly side. (Last week I somehow incorporated our toaster into his torso unit.)

Okay, so those of you who are musicians (and I know there are a few of you out there) can appreciate what we’re going through these days. Performance venues are flagging, people are afraid of going out, money is scarce – situation normal, right? Our response to this crisis is exactly what you would expect from Big Green – we pull the shades down and get back into bed. Then, first thing the next morning, we sleep until noon. Then, THEN, we go down and look for snacks. That’s how we roll.

We’ll do it live!

I was the first to suggest that we start recording live performances right here in the Cheney Hammer Mill. My bandmates met that suggestion with a resounding silence. Anti Lincoln thought it was a good idea, but he was drunk on the news that his positive-polarity counterpart had been named #1 President of all time once again by the C-SPAN Historian poll. (How that would be a positive reflection on him is another question.)

Well, when it came time to record some live takes, uh … I was the only one who showed up. Now, maybe I forgot to distribute the memo. And maybe I forgot to write the memo. And maybe it never occurred to me to send a memo around in the first place. But for whatever reason, it became clear to me that I would be the only one doing this shit. Just me and my tape opp Marvin.

Choosy mothers

Of course, the question always comes down to which songs I should try to do. It’s actually and easier question than you might think. Since I am equally unpracticed on all of our songs, it really doesn’t matter what the playlist turns out to be. So I pulled some from International House, one or two from Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick, and a handful of numbers we haven’t included on any of our albums.

Next step, I put the songs in a blender and ran it on Frappe for 45 seconds. That gave them a smooth consistency they never had before, frankly …. maybe a bit too smooth. So I poured that bilge down the drain and limped back into the studio, guitar in hand, looking for trouble. Then trouble found me.

Uh, Marvin ... shouldn't you be minding the board?

Know-how? No how!

Now, as some of you know, I attempt to play many instruments. When I say many, I really just mean three – piano, bass, guitar. I am probably most technically inept at the guitar, so naturally, I chose to record most of my live numbers on six string, without accompaniment.

Why? It’s the challenge, my friend. We cannot make things too easy on ourselves. How far would mankind have gotten if we had taken that attitude. Do you think for one moment that we would be anywhere near the brink of total destruction if we had chosen to be content with the way things are? Not a chance.

Anyway, my lame attempts at covering our own damn songs should be dropping sometime soon. Stay tuned.

Usual Rubbish

Taking the words WAY too literally.

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2000 Years to Christmas

Jesus, man … another song about geoscience? Just wait until Mitch gets his hands on that. What’s the topic this time – gravitation? I guess he’s already fucked with that sufficiently. Still, I worry.

Yeah, that’s right. No one wants to see your friends in Big Green just moping around the abandoned hammer mill like a bunch of sad sacks, bickering with one another. So we make an extra effort to smile when we get visitors. And if we’re not in the mood, we get Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to do it for us. No, he doesn’t have anything like what you might call a mouth, but he’s got some grill work to show, and that will do in a pinch.

What’s the beef? Nothing serious. Just interrogating my illustrious brother Matt about the subject matter of his recent songwriting. Some of you may recall that his lyrics have spawned some trouble in the past. No, they’re not controversial or obscene in any way, but they do give Mitch Macaphee, our mad science advisor, some bad ideas. And he tends to take our song lyrics very literally.

The Question of George

A couple of years ago it was Matt’s song “Why Not Call It George?”, the lyric for which has always sounded to me, in part, like a bulleted list of mad-man items:

Gravity can: (a) make your mind flow out from your tongue; (b) take your eyes downtown to see the nuns all bunched up on the tiles; (c) pull your lips back from your smile

(Hear it yourself: Check out our live version of the song on our YouTube channel.)

Parts of that song made Mitch think he could (dare I say it?) rule … the world! Or at least reverse continental drift and reclaim Pangaea. I got nervous when he started spending months at a time in the lab … and the ground started shaking. Not. good.

This doesn't seem like such a good idea.

Eruption Imminent!

Then there was “Volcano Man”, a track from our 2nd album, International House. Mitch started obsessing over that one as well. You know how grade school kids sometimes build those baking soda volcanoes for school projects? Well, that’s a miniature version of what we had to deal with around this dump. Of course, Mitch had to open a vent straight down to the Earth’s molten caramel center, just so that the ‘cano was authentic. He was doing it with an upside-down rocket, Crack In The World style. What a mess!

Anyhow, I’ve tried to encourage Matt to write songs about less volatile things. You know, like …. butterflies, or cobblestones, or vegetable stew. Maybe you’ve got some suggestions that don’t suck (like these do).

Usual Rubbish

Steady Cam.

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2000 Years to Christmas

Try to stand still, man. You’re shaking the picture. It looks like there’s an earthquake going on, like Big Green meets the last days of Pompeii. That was a volcano? Okay, so …. Big Green meets the big one. Or Big Green bites the big one. Now that’s more believable.

Oh, hi, Big Green fans. Sure, we know you’re not “fans”, exactly … just casual acquaintances who drop by every once in a while to see what’s on fire at the mill this time around. We’ll take it! Sorry to disappoint – there’s nothing on fire at the moment. I’m, of course, not counting the perpetual St. Elmo’s fire that our mad science advisor Mitch Macaphee has had burning in his lab since the day he got here. (And no, I don’t mean he has a VHS tape of the movie running in perpetuity – he actually has a plasma corona discharge simulator in his lab … running in perpetuity. I think he likes the glow.) No, we’re having a normal week for once. Though our normal is, well, not particularly normal. More nermal than normal. Nothing blew up, that’s basically it.

As you know, we’ve been trying – like many other bands – to adjust to the virtual marketplace in this era of Coronavirus shutdowns and social distancing. And like many bands from a previous era, we’re having more than our share of difficulties. Doing performances on Zoom, for instance, is less than optimal, even for musicians who have some facility with digital technologies. For people like us, it’s just hopeless, and we have had to resort to other, less frequently used technologies, like long cardboard tubes, or old-style megaphones, or just hiring someone to carry our tunes around in a bucket. (Fact is, nobody in this town could carry a tune in a bucket to save his or her life.) For people used to just standing on a stage and letting the music happen, for better or for worse, this pandemic is …. well …. lethal!

Can you try to get both me AND the piano into the shot ... Scorcese?

This week, though, we stumbled upon another option. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has a body cam built into him. I think his inventor, Mitch Macaphee, was imagining he could sell Marvin to the police for use as a ludicrous robo-cop of some sort, but that didn’t pan out. Anyhow, Marvin can be our camera operator, and because he’s set up for wi-fi, we can route him into our hacked modem, push the signal up to the main fiber hub, and send our music out to thousands of potential listeners. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the capacity to record anything, so we have to do all of our songs live. And damn it, the fucker just can’t stand still. Every time we count something in, he starts rolling around. I think he’s trying to pull off a crane shot or something. We keep telling him to stop watching music videos so much, but these are COVID times, and frankly, he’s got little else to do.

Okay, so when you see a performance from us, if it looks a little shaky, that’s NOT because we live in a fault zone. It’s artistry at work, my friends. Cinematic artistry.

Usual Rubbish

Burning Verses.

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2000 Years to Christmas

Got the toaster plugged in? No, not THAT toaster. I mean the kind that pops up CDRs. Yes, it needs juice – what the hell century are you living in? Jesus Christ on toast. No, that WASN’T my breakfast order!

There are times, my friends, when it feels like I speak an entirely different language from my flopmates. And this is one of those times. Now that the nice weather has returned to upstate New York, you might think that we would venture forth from the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, our adopted squat-house, and enjoy the five minutes of sunshine we get each year, whether we need it or not. Well, you would be wrong to think that. God, no – Big Green is still cooped up inside this dump, trying to decide how to slice and dice the mountain of makeshift recordings we’ve done over the past five years under the rubric of Ned Trek. Now, is that any way to spend your summer? (All five minutes of it?)

What’s the urgency? Well, I can’t answer that, except that there appears to be some line of code in Marvin (my personal robot assistant)’s programming that requires him to do an exhaustive inventory of our work product every seven months. That’s all well and good, except that we are – as you likely know – the most disorganized band in the history of music, so our efforts to accommodate this half-crazed automaton fall more than a little bit short. Story of our lives, right, people? We just write ’em, play ’em, and record ’em. What happens after that is not our department. So as a consequence, we’ve got songs lying around the mill, knee-deep in parts, jumbled together in a hap-hazard fashion – an auditor’s nightmare, to put it succinctly. Every seven months, it makes smoke come out of Marvin’s brass head. (Note to audience: that’s NOT supposed to happen. Marvin is battery operated – no emissions, period.)

Slave driver!

Take Ned Trek (please!). We had something like 40 episodes of the show, posted as a feature on our long-running podcast, THIS IS BIG GREEN, with a “rebroadcast” on a separate feed as simply Ned Trek. Something like half of these shows were musicals, which means that they included five or more original songs – sometimes as many as 8 in a single episode. After five years of production, more or less, we have about 100 Ned Trek songs in total. Marvin wants us to funnel them all into disc-length (80 minute) albums, like we did with Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick (another product of THIS IS BIG GREEN technology). That sets us up for a conundrum – do we (a) put all of the songs onto multiple discs, or (b) cherry pick the ones we like best (or hate least) and consolidate them on maybe two discs? Just a preliminary sort brings us to five or six discs total – that’s just nuts. Even Marvin can’t count THAT high.

Well, whatever we decide to do, the next thing we’ll need to do is try to find people who still listen to CDs. (We save that hardest shit for last.)

Usual Rubbish

Inside Christmas.

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2000 Years to Christmas

Wait, what? It’s over? That was fast. How about Michaelmas? Is that over too? Okay, well … I guess I wasn’t paying close enough attention. Was it fun? Did everybody have a good time? No? Ah … okay.

Yeah, I know – 2020 sucked, all the way to the end, right? That appears to be the consensus. Here in the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, Big Green has been known to keep Christmas in an unusual – perhaps singular – way. Like last year, when we built a big plaster volcano and set it off at midnight. Or three years ago, when we all got really, really high, then ended up trampling all over our neighbor’s chocolate pterodactyl farm (though the next day they denied ever even having one in the first place – strange). This year, on the other hand, was a low-key affair, given the COVID restrictions that even we observe … with the exception of our mad science advisor, Mitch Macaphee, who eschews masks in favor of an ultraviolet force field device he wears around his neck. (It glows when it’s running – very impressive, particularly after lights out … which in the Hammer mill, comes around sunset.)

Well, at least ONE of us is safe from COVID.

Anywho, you may have noticed that we dropped an episode of THIS IS BIG GREEN, our podcast, lately on a kind of hiatus, but still just about kicking. Yes, like everything else about this year, it’s kind of lame, but at least it hearkens back to a simpler time …. such as the year 2017. In any case, here’s what’s in the show:

Ned Trek 35: The Romney Christmas Special / Ned Trek Reunion Special. Originally broadcast on Christmas 2017, this non-episode of Ned Trek is patterned after cast reunion specials they used to run for, I don’t know, the Brady Bunch, or …. some other tripe. Pearl is played by a different annoying actor. The Nixon Android is present, but only the guy inside the Nixon Android suit, not the voice actor who read his lines. (Note: Ned Trek is an audio podcast.) The show includes a bunch of Big Green Christmas songs, including an early mix of Bobby Sweet, remakes of Plastic Head, Christmas To End, and He Does It For Spite, and others thrown together to round out the farce. (Don’t miss the cheesy T.V. pop version of Away in a Manger at the start.)

Older Ned Trek Songs. We included a few numbers from Ned Trek 15: Santorum’s Christmas Planet, as we haven’t spun these in a good long time. They include Christmas Green (a Romney song), Horrible People (a Ned song), Neocon Christmas (a Pearl song), and Make That Christmas Shine (another Romney song, a version of which is posted on our YouTube channel).

Song: Pagan Christmas. Once again this year, we included this track from our first album, 2000 Years To Christmas. For a variety of reasons, this track gets a lot of play around Christmas. Our main streaming platform has us down for more than 300 plays this month, which for us is a lot. Kind of a minor hit with the pagan / wiccan crowd, particularly over the last ten years. Glad to have them as listeners.

Yep, it was a clip show. I know, man. Like everyone else, we’ll try to do better in 2021. Happy new year, campers!

Usual Rubbish

Marvin’s Picks.

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2000 Years to Christmas

Any sales this week? Huh. Didn’t think so. That album is a goddamn drug on the market. Which is a strange saying, as drugs sell pretty well, generally speaking …. much better than our albums. Damned capitalism!

Well, here we are, my friends. Your friends and comrades in Big Green, frittering away our time in this abandoned hammer mill in upstate New York, dreaming of the days when we had things to eat other than fritters. (Actually, fritters are pretty economical, if you know how to make them. Two words: saw dust.) We were having our weekly planning meeting, and Marvin (my personal robot assistant) was delivering the quarterly sales report. How did it go? Well, the good news first – there were, indeed, sales. And yes, there was revenue. Though the amounts were so infinitesimal that they can neither be accurately calculated in natural numbers nor seen with the naked eye. (I tried clothing my eyes, but I still couldn’t see anything.)

Now, I know what you’re going to say: It’s not Marvin’s fault that sales of Big Green music have fallen through the crust of the earth. My response to that is simply … you’re letting him off too easy. We assigned Marvin the role of sales manager specifically so that he could take the blame for our continuing commercial failure. That may seem unfair, but he, being an automaton, does not grasp the concept of fairness. He is programmed for mirth and chagrin, but not that special feeling of annoyance and offense you get when someone is hurling insults at you and treating you unfairly. It just rolls off of him like … well … like insults off of a brass automaton. His primary contribution to the Big Green enterprise is to keep us from yelling at one another for our failings. That’s quite an accomplishment.

I find your numbers unconvincing. HarrUMPH!

Once in a while Marvin comes up with a suggestion worth more than a moment’s consideration. Recently he opined that we should set up a Patreon site and sell our songs and other junk to whomever. We hemmed and hawed over that for a while (Matt did most of the haw-ing), then decided to table it for the time being. What the hell are we going to sell, right? Baked goods, for crying out loud? Sure, we have songs. We have buttons. We have, uh … discs. Some of them even have music on them. I think we’ve got some guitar picks lying around. Though some of them have been claimed by Marvin – he uses them as shims when a contact goes wonky somewhere in his electronics bay. I suppose we could run a Patreon promotion – Marvin’s Picks: five for a buck. Or maybe not.

Damn. Capitalism is hard, man.

Podcast

THIS IS BIG GREEN: August 2019

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Big Green hails the closing days of Summer with a brand spanking new episode of Ned Trek, some tracks from their studio albums, and some troll-like jabbering that amounts to naught. Get your green right here!

This is Big Green – August 2019. Features: 1) Ned Trek 40: Day of the Dopes; 2) Put the phone down: Swimming in lush pools; 3) Fledgling updates; 4) Swapping voices; 5) Peddling conspiracy theories; 6) Turtle eggs that look like the moon; 7) The story of Monte Markham; 8) The show so far; 9) Zappa talk; 10) The racist cartoons of our youth; 11) Song: Pagan Christmas, by Big Green; 12) Song: For Your Majesty’s Amusement, by Big Green; 13) Song: The Bishop, by Big Green; 14) Song: Aw Shoot, by Big Green; 15) Song: Box of Crackers, by Big Green; 16) Buying Greenland; 17) The dairy area; 18) Time to go.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Usual Rubbish

Water under the bridge.

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Where’s the list? Damned if I know. It’s somewhere in the forge room, I think, under a mountain of iron filings. Well, you TOLD me to file it! Jesus.

Yeah, looks like I blew it again. So what’s new? We were compiling a list of Big Green songs we’ve written and at least cursorily recorded since our last CD release – Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick – some six years ago. Lot of water gone under the bridge since then, and a lot of music along with it. It’s almost like there was a little boat all loaded down with songs, and the water carried it under the bridge. Along with, well, a lot more water. Or something like that.

Of course, this is a list of all of the songs we’ve written and recorded for the Ned Trek portion of our THIS IS BIG GREEN podcast. There are about 70 or 80 of them, all tolled. So if we decide to release another album, it will either (a) have 70 or 80 songs on it, or (b) be the product of a sane mind. Or maybe it’s two or even three albums. After all, it’s been six years, and before that it had been another five years, and before that, like, nine years. Yeah, we’re slow …. slower than most bands. But hey … most bands don’t have a personal robot assistant (Marvin) or a mad science advisor (Mitch Macaphee). If they did, well, recording albums would take a hell of a lot longer.

Right, but ... which one?

Now that I think of it, we almost never mark the anniversary of CD releases. Last year was the 10 year anniversary of International House, our second album, and no celebration, no party streamers, no commemorative live performances, no fireworks, no flagrant branding exercises hoping to chew the last dollars off of its rotting carcass. We’re coming up on the 20th anniversary of our first album, 2000 Years to Christmas, and my guess is that we will do TWICE as much celebrating as we did for International House. At least that. Hell, I still have signed CDs from the tenth anniversary of 2000 Years to Christmas. Want one? Post a comment to this post or email us and we’ll see what we can do.

Till then, I had better get started on that pile of filings. Or that file of pilings.

Usual Rubbish

Inside February (2019)

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Heard any good podcasts lately? Nah, neither have I. Well, aside from the ones I typically listen to, but those tend not to have anything to do with music. I sometimes download podcasts about fixing robots and doing odd jobs, like bending pretzels. (Real odd jobs.) But never music.

Well, in spite of that simple fact, we of Big Green do put out a podcast about music … or, at least, one that contains music, and typically new music in every episode. This month’s is no exception. That sucker is larded down with so much music it will make your teeth wobble and your big toe shoot up inside your moccasin. Eight flipping new songs, my friends, never before heard by the likes of you. And a new Ned Trek to boot. (Boot it right out into the yard.)

Here’s a look at our first-of-the-year podcast:

Ned Trek 39: Patterns of Horse. Yeah, I made that name up on the fly, because this episode of Ned Trek is based on the classic Star Trek episode entitled “Patterns of Force”, aka, the one with the Nazis. It’s basically that plot turned inside-out: the “fuhrer” in this case is Bernie Sanders, who turns a whole planet into a social-democratic paradise that attempts to satisfy every human need and realize every human potential. Naturally, the Free Enterprise crew set themselves to destroying this empire of kindness merely by strolling through it. Hijinx, as always, ensue.

I'll tell anyone who will listen.Song: Find Yourself a Nazi. Matt puts on his best Captain Beefheart voice for this Doc Coburn song that puts a Nazi spin on domestic bliss. Mean, but not craven.

Song: Oh, V-2. Perle, as always, singing for his supper … a supper that consists of massive arms procurement contracts he can move in service to some despotic dictator. His usual subject matter.

Song: Now More Than Ever. The android Nixon goes all disco on us, funking it up for the masses, doing a champion little dance, then mopping up the spotlight like spilled milk.

Song: Nazi Lunch. Rocking song by Doc about … well, you’ll have to ask Doc. Just don’t stand between him and his Kentucky Bourbon.

Song: The Nicest Nazi. Ned’s song about all the great stuff Bernie’s doing as the planet’s uber-friendly Fuehrer. (I’m not talking taxi here.)

Song: Can’t Do It Without Nazis. Willard sings about his return to public office and the goosestepping little voters who helped him replace the Hatch. Quasi classical melody, strangely enough.

Song: Can’t Go Wrong (Motherfucker). A song about Brett Kavanaugh specifically and white privilege more generally, sung by Sulu.

Song: Soldier of Fourchan. Our ode to the Proud Boys, chronicling their recent battles with fierce foes … like cardboard signs and such.

Put The Phone Down. Matt and I talk about Peter Tork’s passing, look back at various moments in our television-soaked youth, sing some ridiculous impromptu songs, and well … nearly pass out from fatigue. I grow fatigued, captain.

Anyway, enjoy this mess.