Tag Archives: Why Not Call It George?

Usual Rubbish

Getting a good-ISH start on another year

Leave a comment
2000 Years to Christmas

Oh, damn, I did it again. Can’t stop writing 2021 when I mean 2022. It’s like I’m trying to go back in time. And why the hell would ANYONE want to go back to 2021? I mean, aside from Mitch Macaphee?

Yeah, Mitch had a pretty good year last year. He made some stuff blow up real good. The rest of us, however … not so much. We made things blow up, but not intentionally. And I have to say, this drafty old abandoned hammer mill is no place to spend January. If we were as rich as … well, as pretty much any other band, we could just pick this place up, put it on a flatbed, and move it someplace warm. But no how, my friends, no freaking how.

Random ways to stay warm

Okay, so when the heat is not so hot, how do you keep from turning into a band-cicle? Well, there are ways. One is to play your damn instruments. That’s what we do typically when the iceman calleth. I start banging on my acoustic guitar, beating the living shit out of it with my pick-less paw, raising callouses and annoying the neighbors with my hollering. (If you want to know what THAT sounds like, give my recent nano concerts a listen. )

Sometimes when it gets particularly frosty, I’ll play covers, like old Neil Young songs or numbers by Elvis Costello, Stones, Jethro Tull, etc. Some of it’s a little hard to render on a solo acoustic guitar, but I don’t let THAT stop me. What I can’t do is a credible version of Matt’s song Why Not Call It George, which we used to do with the full band. Our guitar player Jeremy Shaw used to do a volcanic solo on that song – holy cats! If that doesn’t warm you up, I don’t know what will.

I'm frozen solid

Through the trackless wastes

Now, as everybody knows, January is a very quiet time for bands here in upstate New York. That’s always been the way, since grand-daddy was knee-high to a grasshopper’s grandaddy. Of course, now it’s even worse with COVID, though that doesn’t stop some people from going out and making it rain in a club somewhere. That’s fine, guys … just don’t breathe while you’re there and you’ll be fine.

We of Big Green tend to prefer our solitude. And who the hell needs the money, right? I mean, besides us? We can always ask Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to manufacture some cash for us. He’s got one of those inkjet printers built into his ass. (Not literally his ass, you understand – just a figure of speech.) And if he just refrains from putting Art Linkletter in the president hole of the bills, someone might actually accept them as legal tender. (Hope so – it’s a long slog to Spring.)

Extraordinary means

Now, one of the benefits of having a mad science advisor is that, when you can’t afford to run the central heat, he or she can come up with some technical solution that will keep you from freezing to death. Yesterday Mitch Macaphee somehow managed to build a fire in the forge room of the mill. Only it wasn’t something impressive, like a flame generated by a concentrated tachyon beam. He literally just pulled beams out of the mill roof and threw them in the fire.

What a freaking luddite! I expect some kind of miracle cure to our hypothermia, not burning the house down one plank at a time!

Usual Rubbish

Taking the words WAY too literally.

Leave a comment
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

Magma cum laude.

Leave a comment

Some people count to ten when they’re angry. Others resort to a punching bag or maybe a mattress stood up against the wall. I’ve known people to shut themselves in a closet and scream bloody murder. But THIS … THIS is outrageous.

Remind me, next time I start a band, don’t … repeat, don’t have a mad science advisor. Sure, they can help you out in a pinch, like that time we needed to get to that gig on Neptune and our van had broken down. Or that other time when I needed a personal robot assistant. Thing is, they are so freaking mercurial. (In Mitch Macaphee’s case, I think the reason for that may be that he just spent way too much time on the planet Mercury.) And when the act out, it can have profound consequences.

I’ve never even come close to being a scientist, but when I was a kid – like most American kids – I built a plaster volcano. Pretty sure Mitch did so when he was young, only his little ‘cano burned down his elementary school and his mates had to spend the rest of the semester attending class in a cornfield. Well … Mitch is at it again, apparently THIS time setting his sites on the Big Island in Hawaii. How do I know he’s the cause of the recent eruptions? Just have a feeling, that’s all. He’s been spending an awful lot of time in that lab of his. And I’ve been hearing a lot of rumbling just lately.

I always get a little nervous when Mitch starts messing around with plate tectonics. It recalls to my mind the protagonist in Matt’s song “Why Not Call It George?” – himself a kind of mad scientist, tinkering with the inner workings of our unruly little planet:

Is that thing loaded?Continental drift can be reversed
Great tumblers shift
And Pangaea can be reclaimed
After me it can be renamed
Why not call it George?
Call it George, after me

While we don’t have a lot of tectonic activity in our neighborhood, it does get a little shaky once in a long while. And with Mitch Macaphee still pissed off about those NASA shots of Jupiter, I wouldn’t be surprised if those tremors get a little closer together. We might even wake up to aggravated volcanism, and I don’t mean the plaster variety. (Note to self: order those fireproof goulashes.)

Usual Rubbish

Inside August.

Leave a comment

Did you upload the episode on time? Marvin? Can you hear me? Oh, Jesus. Not again. Right … Hey, anti-Lincoln! Plug Marvin in for a couple of hours. Make yourself useful!

Hi, good people. I’m pretty sure Marvin (my personal robot assistant) uploaded the August episode of our podcast, THIS IS BIG GREEN – our fifth anniversary broadcast! – over the last couple of days, but until he has a decent charge on him I can’t be sure. If you listened to it, you know a lot of what I planned to tell you today. But because I am a pedantic motherfucker, I fully intend to tell you about it anyway. Here’s what we got under the hood.

Ned Trek 29: Error of Mercy – This latest episode of our Star Trek political parody audio melodrama is based on the classic Star Trek episode titled “Errand of Mercy”. (For you non-aficionados, here’s the IMDB listing.) The crew of the Free Enterprise arrives at the planet Origami just ahead of the Confederation’s arch rivals, the Cleenton Empire. The episode features a bad, bad imitation of Bill Clinton, a perhaps worse imitation of James Carville, and a lot of cheap shots. Perle ends up wearing another barrel, so it’s probably worth a listen.

Marvin, did you ... ? Forget it.Put The Phone Down – We start with some strained renditions of a song by The Troggs, as sung by Peter Lorre, the Daleks from Dr. Who, and others, then rip right into a discussion of current affairs. That more or less follows the theme of my political rant this week – the assholes vs. the fuckers, in essence, though we also spend some time on “Bernie or Bust” and the Green Party. (Don’t get me started!)

Live Songs – These are audio tracks from the excerpts of our live video demo we posted over the past few weeks on our YouTube Channel. These include Sensory Man, I Hate Your Face, and Why Not Call It George? Fairly raucous, more or less in line with cuts from our Live From Neptune EP. The recordings were made pretty proximate to one another, probably within a year or so (1993-4). This was at the end of the period when we performed with guitarist and friend of Big Green, Jeremy Shaw.

Anyway, a lot of good-ish listening here, so enjoy. Or at least try to enjoy. I just want to spread a little sunshine as I move through the world, that’s all. Just call me “little joey sunshine”. (Sure beats “fucker”.)

Usual Rubbish

Sensory man.

Leave a comment

Did you feel that? No? Okay, check. How about that? Really. Right, then. Check again. Now let’s try the pointed stick. You don’t want to do it? Well, aren’t you the sensitive one.

Yes, we’re back. I’m just interrogating Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to get some idea of the degree to which his primitive analog circuitry has the capability to emulate human emotions and mock the various senses we take for granted. So far, it’s not going very well. His brass exterior seems impervious to brillo pads, water, even fire. Not sure about pointed sticks – that may be his Achilles’ heal. (I guess I could wait until he’s feigning sleep, then try it on his heel.)

Why am I wasting my time in such a manner? Well, while I’m waiting for Matt to get here and start recording the next episode of our podcast, THIS IS BIG GREEN, I am consuming myself with summer projects, some of which I’ve blogged about over the past few weeks. Annoying Marvin is one, though it’s hardly just a summer project. Still, this is kind of a pointed annoyance, and not just because it involves pointed sticks. You see, as part of one of my OTHER summer projects, I just posted on our YouTube Channel another live performance video from Big Green’s 1993 demo. This song, “Sensory Man”, is another Matt number – his exploration of the robot experience via Lost In Space. We’re talking Robot B-9 here, people. You know, that does not compute. Danger, Will Robinson. Etc.

Aren't you the seismic man?As I think I mentioned before, we don’t have a lot of video footage of us playing live, and even less of us playing our own songs. This demo included a lot of covers – all stuff we liked playing. So it’s kind of a freeze-dried sample of our set list from the 80s and 90s. We’ve got three takes of “Sensory Man”, as well as a rehearsal sequence on that song, a couple of takes of “I Hate Your Face”, and one of “Why Not Call It George?” – that’s it for our songs. That is, unless someone out there has video of us playing at Middlebury College or SUNYIT, when we opened for Bloodline. Anybody? Thought not.

Leave us face it – Big Green’s earthly performance faze was relatively brief. Most of our archival material is from a time before Big Green …. a time when, dare I say it, beasts of every size and description roamed the Earth. The scarier ones were club owners. But then you knew that. (If you own a club, you’re probably a cave man. Am I right?)

Usual Rubbish

Old continent, new name.

Leave a comment

A little higher. Little more. That’s it. Right, now … slowly lower the winch. That’s got it. Okay, a little too fast. Too fast. I said TOO FAST! Oh, Jesus. Right … order another banner. No wonder I never get anything done.

Oh, hello. Forgive me if I always seem surprised when you come along. I’m inclined to forget about the blogging version of the “fourth wall” and the fact that others can see what the hell I’m doing (or not doing). Today you’ve caught me and Marvin (my personal robot assistant) in the midst of constructing Big Green’s new YouTube Channel, hot off the presses. You see, for the longest time we’ve been pointing our listeners/readers/browsers, whatever, to my personal YouTube channel, which has over the last few years become choked with political content, obscure linguistics and philosophy of mind lectures, comedic bullshit, and so on. It finally dawned on my dim little brain that the band needed its own space for video content, and hey presto – a summer project was born.

Why not, indeed?

The timing of our YouTube launch is not entirely an accident. As I mentioned in previous posts, I have been trawling through old tapes, discs, etc., listening to and watching recordings of performances from our terrestrial live performance days back in the 1990s. Over the past few weeks, I cut up a video demo we recorded back in March of 1993 with the guitarist we worked with at that time, the amazing Jeremy Shaw. The video is standard def, 4:3, and a little strange. We taped these performances in a practice room somewhere in Utica – as I recall it was a loft-like space within a couple of blocks of the Police Department headquarters. (Could explain why we look so polite.)

There are some cheesy visual effects inserted at the time of the recording – basically presets in the camera our videographer was using. (The videographer was a dude named Angel whom we met through a mutual friend.) They add a certain trippyness to the whole business, but no matter. Hilariously, the rehearsal space was a typical rock band man-cave environment circa 1993, with cheesecake posters on the walls and overstuffed ashtrays. (Just behind my illustrious brother you’ll notice the incongruous sight of some babe posing for the camera.)