the only recorded version of this is pitiful. downright pitiful. awful. horribly mixed and shrill. that’s ok, though, ‘cuz it’s from before we had a drummer anyway. this one turned out to be a popular live number according to our fans. marthame plays acoustic; scott plays bass; “legendary annie” (who disappeared in a swamp in alabama) sings back up.
this was recorded in our first live gig in the silliman dramatic attic.
happy easter. that’s all we got.
tim sang lead on this; scott and marthame sang back-up. it never made it to the studio in any form, so here it is in raw, live version. this is from a rehearsal tape, the five of us crowded into the silliman basement space screaming our heads off.
this does it. hands down, beats the other version. smokes. the speakers eventually smolter at the end.
much rawer than the 16-track version. it leaps out of the speakers and slits your spleen.
before we ever paid a lot of money, drove the cargo van until its battery died, and played loud rock in separate rooms from each other, we crammed into a single room in the silliman basement and played our hearts out into a couple of microphones. the result was a handful of blistering takes that sometimes outpace the fancy versions. this isn’t one of ‘em.
ah, the temptations of the studio. the cricket sounds, the “we are the world” style sing-a-long chorus, the egregious “jerky boys” pop culture references, what more could you want in your anthemic loud rock ballad? A distinctly different take on the original.
stands for “classic innately painful horny love song.” irony was apparently new at the time. we decided to amp up the production cheese factor on this one. imagine jim morrison busting in on a lounge duo at 3 am. the sound effects were samples on the producer’s keyboard.
written about unnamed girlfriend of conquest, metaphor of warfare taken to the next level by marching drums. wow.
our first original, first written when we didn’t even have a drummer. oh, and an acoustic guitar. markedly different from “the vitamin song,” which only exists really in a live version. but we’ll get to that later. this one’s on fire. the screams were added by one of those halloween battery-operated hatchets.
u2 isn’t the only band that can write about politics and ireland and god. 4-track version is better than this one. the opening guitar sounds like dublin flatulence.
