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Roughly Enforcing Nostalgia Sample Based Music Indie plunderphonic Mash up power pop About Roughly Enforcing Nostalgia, that  Sample Based Music Indie plunderphonic Mash up power pop rock band look listen hear --- Roughly Enforcing Nostalgia Sample Based Music Indie plunderphonic Mash up power pop contact -- Roughly Enforcing Nostalgia Sample Based Music Indie plunderphonic Mash up power pop sitemap - Roughly Enforcing Nostalgia Sample Based Music Indie plunderphonic Mash up power pop Apocalypse Cow Recordings Record producers Chicago Art rock and indie new wave

  (6:20) [9/24/01]
  Liner Notes

I don't mean to preach but the story goes something like this:

Commuting Hillside Strangler ----- Forgot my CDs.
Radio? ----- Hm, still works.
Flip ----- Sounds like everything else.
Flip ----- Sounds like everything else.
Harrison Bergeron ----- Yeah ----- Flip it off shut it off.

Hey closet rockers with that axe that resonates inside your chest cavity and blows wide
----- You're not alone.
Hey laptoppers with your BRODIE good looks that wanna take us all on culturejam rides
----- You're not alone.
Hey Bruce & QuadraRaz, wail the garages now with KrushRZ & Uno
----- You're not alone.
Hey who defy classify like Wetpants & Halo, Grizzlypig, Sudo & Tangmo
----- You're not alone.


An hour later ----- (Yeah, still on the Strangler.)
Another shot? ----- Sounds like everything else.
(They're sure this isn't the same song?)
Diminished expectations, handicaps, & resets.
Pliers from the glove, yank the knobs ----- Rip it off shut it off.

Hey hobby horses (working while the kids are sleeping) molding dreams of Ralph Fiennes to folk art
----- You're not alone.
Hey T-shirt bundles with your hemp-flavored dreds transmitting stolen bits you pieced into hearts
----- You're not alone.
Hey cartoon buds like Mic The Motherboard & Grubs, Gox, Brent, Exdog & Dawg too
----- You're not alone.
Hey Tascam bandmates with your 4-track minds like Just Another Star & Snap Dad & Foo
----- Waddadalone!


Two more hours ----- (Yeah, moved a few inches.)
Windows down? ----- Sounds like everything else.
The town that gave Vonnegut an honorary degree
After they flunked him out ----- Pliers?
Outta the dash, onto the pavement ----- Rip it out shut it off.

Hey smudgeyglasses with insomniac twigs for arms deconstructing microscope WAVs
----- You're not alone.
Hey snare-rushers with flying typo gloves sampling the planet from your villainous caves
----- You're not alone.
Hey Silliputti & Polaris & The Neighbor, Critters all who've come here to stay
----- You're not alone.
Hey Dexsta D, fCC, Tashi P, Verumontanum & sTig & Flat A
----- Give the Dog a bone!


As the wattages go up
& the playlist size goes down,
No aliens will ever hear intelligent life
From this planet's waves of sound.
AM turned into FM,
FM to web radio;
No corporation has approved this, but it's somehow
aGO!project even though.

[“theGO!project” features additional lyrics written by Mike Andraski, Steve Blizen, Ben Capraro, Kim Cox & Mario DiGuilio; and contains interpolations of “Left Of The Dial” written by P Westerberg, NAH Music ASCAP, 1985]
liner notes
AM to FM to Web Radio to whoknowswhatnext? We keep pushing farther west, looking for an acre of non-programmed land to plant our feet on. The DeMillian cast of extra voices on this track were supplied by the kind volunteer artists of

Additional Musicians
Hank Mohaski, Zombie King, [shamantasty], Uncle & Auntie Social - Additional Lead Voxes / The Big Green Orange Brass Band, Dark Flash, DJ-T, DJ ULTR@, The Glyph, HooHah, Jargonized, Ras Keita, Ronnie Bell, Screaming Duck, Sol FX, Spinelab, Sterling Sound, & Syndustry - Background Call Letter Voxes

Terry Zwigoff - Crumb (Spoken by R Crumb)

"Well, those electric sheep to the valley they keep walkin
On the radio waves selling tennis shoes and beer
It induces sleep when that DJ starts his squawkin'
I'm lookin' for one song to save me on this midnight clear

Well, we've been drivin' all night, ever since we were teenagers,
Up to that border town where the outlaw station air waves
Where the DJ's outta sight and his heart is so courageous
And he loves every song that he's puttin' on for the free and brave

So how far do we have to go to hear that Pirate Radio?
One song that could steal our hearts
Before they turn into silver and gold
Well I'm drivin' my care real slow and my baby wants to know
When we gonna hear our song on that Pirate Radio?"
- John Hiatt, "Pirate Radio" (1997)

"Read about your band in some local page
Didn't mention your name, didn't mention your name
Sweet Georgia breezes, safe, cool and warm
I headed up north, you headed north

On and on and on and on
It's sad to move on
On and on and on and on
It's sad to move on

Weary voice that's laughin', on the radio once
We sounded drunk, never made it on
Passin' through and it's late, the station started to fade
Picked another one up in the very next state

On and on and on and on
It's sad to move on
On and on and on and on and...

Pretty girl keep growin' up, playin' make-up, wearin' guitar
Growin' old in a bar, ya grow old in a bar
Headed out to San Francisco, definitely not L.A.
Didn't mention your name, didn't mention your name

And if I don't see ya, in a long, long while
I'll try to find you
Left of the dial
Left of the dial."
- Paul Westerberg, "Left Of The Dial" (1985)

"Wish I knew everyone's nickname,
All their slang and their sayings.
Every way to show affection,
How to dress to fit the occasion . .
And I wish we all waved . .
All waved . .
All waved . .
And I wish we all!
Wish we all!
Wish we all waved . ."
- Perry Farrell, "No One's Leaving" (1990)

"And we moved! We flashed past the mysterious white signs in the night somewhere in New Jersey that say SOUTH (with an arrow) and WEST (with an arrow) and took the south one. New Orleans! It burned in our brains. From the dirty snows of "frosty fagtown New York", as Dean called it, all the way to the greeneries and river smells of old New Orleans at the washed-out bottom of America; then west. Ed was in the back seat; Marylou and Dean and I sat in the front and had the warmest talk about the goodness and joy of life. Dean suddenly became tender. 'Now dammit, look here, all of you, we all must admit that everything is fine and there's no need in the world to worry, and in fact we should realize what it would mean to us to UNDERSTAND that we're not REALLY worried about ANYTHING. Am I right?' We all agreed. 'Here we go, we're all together . . . What did we do in New York? Let's forgive.' We all had our spats back there. 'That's behind us, merely by miles and inclinations. Now we're heading down to New Orleans to dig Old Bull Lee and ain't that going to be kicks and listen will you to this old tenorman blow his top' ----- he shot up the radio volume till the car shuddered - 'and listen to him tell the story and put down true relaxation and knowledge.'

We all jumped to the music and agreed. The purity of the road. The white line in the middle of the highway unrolled and hugged our left front tire as if glued to our groove. Dean hunched his muscular neck, T-shirted in the winter night, and blasted the car along. He insisted I drive through Baltimore for traffic practice; that all right, except he and Marylou insisted on steering while they kissed and fooled around. It was crazy; the radio was on full blast. Dean beat drums on the dashboard till a great sag developed in it; I did too. The poor Hudson ----- the slow boat to China ----- was recieving her beating."
- Jack Kerouac, On The Road (1957)

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