I took a few hits. Yeah, you could say that about me. Took a few hits in my day. And so has Jim. That's why I celebrated the release of The Feebs' newest album by doing just that. Taking a few hits. A couple-three room-temperature Hamm's (which, in my apartment, is cold enough to numb your medulla oblongata with the first swig) and a pot of tea of various perfumey extracts were also employed to enhance my listening experience, and hopefully aid in the detection of hidden meanings (which have a curious way of popping up when your experience is "enhanced"). There was a knock at the door just as I was about to begin listening, and I nervously peered through the peephole to see the cast of "The Brady Bunch" assembled in the hallway. They're all grown now, as you've undoubtedly seen, and they all live in my apartment building. They've given in and now do everything together, resigned to their nostalgia-worship fate. They smelled the smoke and wanted to be invited in for a few tokes, and they threatened to tell the landlord about the cats if they weren't. As we passed the jay, I wrote down some of their comments about the music of "Someone X-Tra Special. (The filthier exchanges have been deleted, and since I can't remember all their real names, some will be referred to by their character names.)
(Ask Anyone plays)
Marcia--- This is bubblegum.
Todd or Mike Lookinland--- It's like the kind that squirts down your throat.
Cindy--- You would know.
Peter--- It's like an expensive lollipop. Pure luxury.
(I've Been There Too)
Barry: The Wilson thing. This is like being on the Sloop John B as it tragically sinks.
Marcia--- Poor Grandpa.
Peter--- Fucking barbershop!
Todd or Mike--- This song is anti-memories.
("Hate for Henchmen")
Cindy Sue--- Soul Asylum and R.E.M. playing together at some imaginary MTV music awards show.
Barry--- I was on MTV.
Cindy--- Jim's like Dave and Michael. For a little fella, he sure can belt!
(Tomorrow is Another Day to Fuck Up Another Way)
Barry--- Positive in its cynicism.
Plum--- All cynics are.
Marcia--- Who is this about?
Mike--- Robert Downey Jr.
Plum--- Roma Downey Jr.
(They listen for a while)
Chris Knight--- it was this kind of thinking that got Meeno Peluce where he is today.
(God Only Knows)
Barry--- Brian Wilson in the Land of the Blue Meanies.
Cindy--- Now it's like Argent, but more pretentious.
Eve--- Brian Wilson overthrows Paul McCartney for control of Wings.
Greg--- I think he likes Brian Wilson in an unhealthy way. Hey, now it's reggae!
Cindy--- How did that happen?
Marcia--- He's quite mad, you know.
Todd (getting up from his seat on the floor to shuffle an unsteady hustle)--- Disco-licious!
Barry--- This is disco's future, if that's possible.
Jan Plumb--- Low-fi disco.
Me--- This song was entirely composed on the Roland Jupiter X.
Bobby--- Yeah, whatever, jackass.
Cindy--- This is the hit that could unseat Celine Dion.
Bobby--- I'd like to unseat Celine Dion.
(End of side one, flip tape.)
(I'm Afraid of Life)
Eve--- This is nice until he shrieks.
Bobby--- That part sounds like hell. Not bad, I mean it really sounds like hell.
Nellie Olsen--- I thought he might stick a final scream at the fade-out. I was cringing. I was afraid.
Marcia McCormick--- Afraid of life.
(Any Other Day)
Peter Knight (after listening a long time)--- He's got some balls.
Susan Dey--- Some balls on him.
Peter--- This song is like the feeling I get peeling toilet paper off the head of my prick.
(Halloween Every Day)
Eve--- This will be bigger than "The Monster Mash."
Cindy Olsen--- A novelty song to kill yourself to?
Todd--- They all are.
Greg--- Why are you looking at me?
(excerpt from Clerks)
Peter--- "Picture biz?" Is that what he says?
Maureen--- "Kick back, picture biz, and smoke some weed?"
Bobby--- I was wondering what Sha Na Na was doing nowadays! (All laugh.)
Eve--- I heard they did two-hundred grand last year. (All go quiet.)
Greg--- Is this monk doo-wop?
Todd--- No, he's white, and Irish.
(Make Me Dance)
Oliver--- You have to feel. You have to feel. You have to understand. It's like paying your dues. You learn to do it so you can fake it later on when it's convenient for you. That's what I got from this song. (They all nod in puzzled consent.)
Greg (whispering)--- Who invited him, anyway?
(Sootfaced White Man)
Peter--- Snotfaced white man?
Buffy--- It's like listening to a mariachi band playing outside while you're stuck inside on the hotel room dumper with a case of the shits.
Eve--- Yes, it is sad, in a joyous way.
(Someone Xtra Special)
Marcia--- You could welcome aliens with this.
Ken Berry--- This to me, is like Dahmer eating a McDonald's hamburger. It's good, but it's not the real thing.
Greg--- It's never like at home.
Peter--- What isn't?
Peter-- His music?
Todd--- This song rocks like your Granny, 'cause your Granny's ass ROCKED!
Marcia--- Listening to this album is like leafing through the back sections of a dictionary. You'll be surprised at the answers you'll find to questions you've always wondered. (All agree.)
Me--- Hey, Marcia, say "Oh, my nose!"
Marcia--- Blow me.
©1998 Big Casserole Records/PSaur. All rights reserved.