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performance:jason harvey: bass guitar
michael ambro: guitar
paul ambro: guitar
dennis harvey: keyboards | noises | voice
composition/production:michael ambro: composition
paul ambro: composition
jason harvey: composition
dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording
notes:... My filthy apartment, smelly sheets, the alarm clock beeping, sunlight streaming through curtains. I'd woken up in strange places so many times in the past few hours that I was beginning to feel like a character in an overproduced, career-destroying, self-indulgent concept album, but here I was, back at home, terrible anthem rock pouring out of the transistor radio. I breathed a sigh of relief and got up, fixed myself a vodka tonic, lit a cigarette, and felt refleshed as I sat down to pore over my latest research into the Multi-Mouth case. A ring kept popping up in the story, an ancient symbol tied with whatever data I had on Multi-Mouth, and it wasn't long before I connected the bots - they were being used as some sort of vessels for his sick plans, robots imbued with the spirits of his misshapen slaves from another world. That's why the clown led me to robo-hood, that's why some of the robots didn't go gangster on me the night of the drive-by - they were still holding on to their original computational circuitry, or however that nerd stuff worked ...
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Spilt milk tension
You burned the house down
Since then
You stared holes into the ceiling
Wishing for weightlessness
Stress mess
Trees bend to slap you as you pass
As if you had offended nature itself
(Since you said you had to go to see to how to take two I too had to see to how to stop you)
Stop drop roll
Kettle condensation
Stare at the telephone
Drone clone
Smash your head
Against the slot machine
Dreams seem not effective anymore
You swore you detected a secret door
Since you said you had to feel love
You're never satisfiedperformance:dennis harvey: keyboards | voice
composition/production:dennis harvey: composition | lyrics | mastering | mixing | production | recording
extra performance:michael ambro: acoustic guitar
jason harvey: bass guitar
extra composition/production:michael ambro: composition
jason harvey: composition | recording
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performance:composition/production:michael ambro: composition
paul ambro: composition
jason harvey: composition
dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording
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performance:composition/production:michael ambro: composition
paul ambro: composition
jason harvey: composition
dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording
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performance:paul ambro: guitar
composition/production:paul ambro: composition | recording
extra performance:jason harvey: bass guitar
dennis harvey: drums
extra composition/production:jason harvey: composition | recording
dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording
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performance:composition/production:michael ambro: composition
paul ambro: composition
jason harvey: composition | mixing | recording
dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording
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performance:composition/production:michael ambro: composition
paul ambro: composition
jason harvey: composition
dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording
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performance:jason harvey: bass guitar
michael ambro: guitar
paul ambro: guitar
dennis harvey: keyboards | noises
composition/production:michael ambro: composition
paul ambro: composition
jason harvey: composition
dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording
notes:... As we rounded the corner near the source of the commotion, a beat-up sedan whizzed by and smashed into the side of a building, leaving a giant, unexpectedly dank hole like an open wound in the red brick. I stared, shaken, but then looked around and realized the streets were swarming with... beings. I couldn't explain it. Short, stunted halflings with furry feet; tall, slender, haughty-looking jerks with pointed ears and hair like streaming gold; round, bearded, smelly guys who looked like small, two-legged wooly mammoths covered in armor. They were all drunk, weaving about, singing songs, being sick in the street. What the hell was happening? I watched the insane scene for a few moments before seeing it: the chalupa, Rastanefarious' chalupa, lying there on the street right where I left it, a shimmering portal extending out of it from which these bonkers fantasy creatures emerged. It was the chalupa vortex, left open for refugees from another world, travelers fresh off the chalupa boat. I smashed a fist into my other hand, furious. Had this been Rastanefarious' plan all along, and I'd just been the key to open the door?
I looked back at the beat-up sedan. The driver was nowhere to be found, and the hole in the brick building seemed to extend inside forever. This had been no coincidence - on the crumbling brick next to the dank hole was a battered sign: "MMM, D.D.S. (appts. only)". Without even thinking, without trying to analyze how I'd missed this telltale sign that night with the chalupa, I jumped into the still-running sedan and punched the gas, straight into the darkness. Blue Moon played from tinny speakers as I plunged through the sudden night, anger and determination overcoming any rationality. ...
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performance:jason harvey: bass guitar | voice
michael ambro: guitar | voice
paul ambro: guitar | voice
dennis harvey: keyboards | noises | voice
composition/production:michael ambro: composition
paul ambro: composition
jason harvey: composition
dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording
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performance:jason harvey: bass guitar
michael ambro: guitar
paul ambro: guitar
dennis harvey: keyboards | noises
composition/production:michael ambro: composition
paul ambro: composition
jason harvey: composition
dennis harvey: composition | mastering | mixing | production | recording