End of the year means end of the year lists...

All the magazines and newpapers are publishing their "best of 2005" lists for various categories. However, since I didn't really care for 2005, and since I do enjoy drawing attention to myself, I've decided to create a list of my own. Nothing to do with 2005.

Aeijtzsche's Top 10 songs that clearly rip-off the Aeijtzsche & H Hitt Facktory

10. Yes: Owner of a Lonely Heart

If the Hitt facktory were slightly guilty of overuse of Orchestral Hits, then Yes needs to be locked up for life for the outrageous orchestral hits that adorn this song.

9. Weather Report: Teen Town

Ridiculous, meandering barely melodic bassline. Total rip-off.

8. Jan & Dean: Batman

Jan and Dean actually stole their entire schtick from the Hitt Factory. A duo writing music that can bring a grown woman to belly laugh.

7. Snoop Dogg ft. Pharell: Drop it like it's Hot

They used an aerosol can as a "snare drum." Gimme a break. So Aeijtzsche and H.

6. The Beach Boys: Good Vibrations

Brian Wilson recorded tiny snippets of music, then later patched them together to form a semi-cohesive whole. Sound familiar? I thought so.

5. The Police: Spirits in the Material World

The skipped first beat followed by nice little guitar up-beats and an off-beat bassline make for a hitt facktoryesquely unsettling rhythmic experience.

4. Mahavishnu Orchestra: John's Song #2

Long, fast melodies, followed by a tight 7/8 groove. Way to be original, guys.

3. Bjork: Where is the Line?

Mouthdrums.

2. Brian Wilson: The Vege-Tables Arguments

Brian taped a whole series of friend Michael Vosse arguing with session drummer Hal Blaine about vegetables. Mommy Mommy?

1. The Flaming Lips: Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Part 2

If you only seek out one song from this list, let it be this one. The Flaming Lips actually took a time machine into an alternate future, where the Aeijtzsche and H Hitt Factory have a huge recording budget. They stole a final mixdown of a Hitt Facktory song completed in 2017. This is that song. Gurgling synth bass, screaming, animal noises, childishly coincident ascending and descending melodies into eternity...


Happy New Year, everyone!

hey

You guys should join the MySpace community.

An old conversation

Since this is our 1 year aniversary month on the blog, I thought I would add a little to one of our previous conversations. I heard this on NPR (Fresh Air) last Wednesday and thought it would be interesting for several of us here. It's called "Misquoting Jesus" and here it is: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5052156

Alan in the Archives

I was searching the 611 online archives for certain tour de force performances featuring our friend AG. You can imagine my disappointment-- despair, actually-- when I couldn't hear the beloved Fed say things like "stop playing games with my face" and "is that really my voice?". I assume their disappearance has something to do with verdak. So, Dave... can you possibly make them available somewhere else? Please? I'll beg. I'll whine. I'm not above flattery, bribery or empty threats. It would be like a giant anniversary present for the blog. And Andy would be happy. Very happy.

New Post

This is long overdue, considering how often I check the blog and how much (really) I care to keep my friendship with you guys.

I am back in America and living now in my hometown, Tyler, Texas. It is a great place. And I am friendly. Come visit.

:-)

Midway In Our Life's Journey

If you want to know the truth, I began this disorderly and almost endless collection of scattered thoughts and observations in order to gratify a good mother who knows how to think. But even that’s not the whole story. Actually, in my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. "Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had.” What’s this about advantages? What is it that you’re trying to say? If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. So I won’t. I’ll begin in medias res, with this reassurance only: You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings. I know now where to begin, but when… ah, that’s a different question entirely. At the beginning of July, during a spell of exceptionally hot weather, towards evening, a certain young man came down on to the street from the little room he rented from some tenants in S--- Lane and slowly, almost hesitantly, set off towards K---n Bridge. Or maybe it was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. No, no it was September—of that I’m certain. On a day during which we celebrate labor with recreation. Yes, those were halcyon days. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity. Well, let’s not get carried away. But although I stood at the brink of darkness and fear, I was not nearly so bad off as Gregor Samsa, who awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad.

So the beginning of September, as I said, opens this tale of woe. I found myself steadily losing weight. 180. 178. 174. 170. 168. 162. 159. I took my belt in a notch. I tightened my watch. I started eating and drinking more. And I went on with my life, but decided to visit the doctor. This doctor poked and prodded and relieved me of various and sundry bodily fluids and diagnosed me with an incurable disease. Call me Ishmael. Incurable, but treatable. Treatable, but deadly. Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of York. Why did this happen to me? No one knows. All they would tell me is that all children, except one, grow up. Should I take comfort from this promise? I don’t know that either. When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning or in rain?

In the beginning…

wow

This place needs something new to spice it up. You can't tell me that no one in the group has something new and exciting to talk about. I know someone must be hiding something.