Isn't That Marilyn Manson's Girlfriend?

All those dead lines on restricted incoming calls, the rustling at the other end of unknown area codes, those confusions of telecommunication you shrugged off as pocket calls... well, it's time you knew the truth about what's happening on the other end of the line.
Also, not to spoil the ending, but the bunny in the front killed the cheerleaders.

STD Payphone

My younger sister just got back from Bangalore, India and brought me this photo of a local payphone. Let's say the obvious: their abreviation of "standard" wouldn't fly so high here. But- for those who've asked about the STD payphone line in "What Katie Said", here's your practical application of the phrase. (Though I would still take the medical precaution of keeping fluids from oral orifaces and the mouthpiece from coming into contact.)

Ether Itchers

In the current edition of Alt Press magazine, I was asked to author a page with the amusing enough subject matter, "how to become famous", which I had a fine time writing, because I have no idea, frankly, how to really truly do so. For part of this column, I made reference to pictures and videos Justin and I scrawled to amuse various people who have done us favors, or who we think should soon do us one or two.
A few people have since spoken to me about the article, and made reference to the thank-you drawings while doing that annoying quad-finger air quote motion during the annunciation of those words. So I don't know if there's some disbelief in the merit of my word here, or if these people just find it necessary to spastically itch at the ether, but I thought I'd go a rummaging through some photos to find PROOF!

(..I'm looking for the animated white board video... haven't found that yet.)

What Pedigree!

Just stumbled upon some family portraits from last year..

Top left to bottom right..Justin Pierre of Motion City, Matches merchie Monaca Brown, our very own Triangle Man, myself, and MCS merchie Beth.
(notice Beth's crucifix chocolate bar!)



Thanks (or curses) to glamour-shot-extraordinaire photographer Greg Kicmal.

Nihilistic Thesaurus.com

While writing some lyrics today and browsing thesaurus.com for synonyms for "tomorrow", I came across an amazingly telling perspective of the website which personified and endeared it to me beyond belief.

My song now croons "I can't wait to see you not at any time, forget it, no way, nevermore." There is nothing to properly convey that I am laughing aloud as I'm typing this.
(nice, I might add, to find that the religious right and neo-conservatives haven't bought up EVERYTHING in this country quite yet.)

"McDonald's is great beacause it all tastes the same!"

A preamble: Don't knee jerk, 'cause this is splendidly laugh-aloud-ably crafted criticism. I'll display it in the context of the email from our friend Robbie who found the review online. Following the review is my email to the writer...
---
Hey Guys,

I came across this CD review on Decomposer. It's one of the first
negative one's I've seen, I thought you might want to check it out:
---

After hearing Decomposer and E. Von Dahl Killed the Locals, The Matches’ previous release, I’ve cleverly drawn up this sketch of a fan dealing with their new sound. I hope you enjoy.

Fan: Excuse me.

Matches: Yes?



Fan: I just bought this Big Mac and it tastes like a candy bar, beef jerky, Hunan chicken, root beer, and vagina all at the same time.

Matches: And?

Fan: I came here to buy a Big Mac because I’ve had one before and I enjoyed the flavor. I came back because I remember liking the first one. Secondly, why the fuck does this Big Mac taste like vagina?

Matches: Excellent question! You see, we were getting a healthy response from our “Big Mac” release and we thought we might make new ones that were even better. So we came up with a list of about 48 things that people like to eat and infused their essences into one sandwich! Every bite is an explosion of different familiar flavors!

Fan: Gee, I kind of liked the, I don’t know, BURGER flavor of the Big Mac. I’m fairly certain that’s why I came back for another one.

Matches: Well it’s a good thing we left the hamburger flavor in there as well, isn’t it? Now your Big Mac is a highly enriched flavor abomination! We don’t need to maintain a fan base! HUZZAH!

Fan: I think I’m going to grab a Whopper.

If I have to sum it up in a more obvious way I will. They had a good thing going with their earlier album and they just couldn’t accept that fans would like another album that sounded about the same. They had to be fucking kooky and I really think it’s going to cost them a lot of grief. The songs may have a decent diet punk foundation but the random additional elements ruin any chance Decomposer has of being moderately tolerable. Papercut Skin is my best example, sounding like a combination of My Sharona and the Duck Tales cartoon theme.

If you want to check this band out, do it with E. Von Dahl Killed the Locals. Whatever it is they meant to accomplish with Decomposer just didn’t hit the mark. In fact, it’s probably a good example of how punk music is being willingly destroyed. Ignore this release and hopefully The Matches will rethink their approach to music with the next one.

Baron has been a writer for Shakefire.com since 2006.
http://www.shakefire.com/reviews/thematches-decomposer.html


---
Baron,
I play guitar and sing in the Matches, and I've got to tell you, this is causing some odd inner turmoil, but, well, I am such a fan of your negative review of my album. (!) I mean, I think we made a cool album, but I don't disagree with your criticism of it-- that it is not a big Mac, and that some people would prefer one of those, and that may commercially plague us, but the feeling was, and still is, that there are so many Big Macs that we have to tour with year after year...ug.
Perhaps you will like our next record-- it is not so similar to Decomposer, yet certainly is not a big Mac either. At any rate, I hope that you review it, because I wish to read the review.
I plan on checking in with your reviews frequently, now that I've discovered your site, because though we have a noted difference in taste, we can all enjoy a nice arty pop culture slag of some other guy's record. (Though I thought maybe your extended metaphor may have been a little dense and well-formulated for the hoi polloi, and may limit your reader-base.)
Fuck em!
Viva the hoity toity!
Shawn
the Matches
---

Shawn and Dave Are Dead

Dave Smallen of Street to Nowhere and I went to the Spin.com offices in NYC to shoot a short promo to be aired on the web in hopes of reigning people in to the intrigue of spin.com's new book club, by showcasing an enjoyable dialogue, therefore expelling the viewer's fear of a pretension festival. We ulimately proved zero prentension by failing by all means to sound remotely intelligent on camera. Nothing reduces a vocabulary to cromagnon grunts more than a red LCD "recording now" light. Come speak with us on the forum in the comfort of your lack-of-mind-crippling red light at spin.com/bookclub, if you're feelin' saucy.

High Browse

The jacket of my favorite book of short stories reads:

Dear Shawn,
From a fan of YOUR "the Barber's Unhappiness" Write more songs based on my stories.
George Saunders

(!!!)
I am not composed. Our music is on the ipod of the best short story writer of our era! The best short story writer of our era has an ipod! My ipod broke, but were it still in order, I would trade it without hesitation for my signed copy of Pastoralia.

thanks to Mac, DFW, and Emily.

Birth Dirge

Root for us! Go team the Matches! Don proudly the colors teal and red, and sing in unison our proud birth dirge:
(to the tune of one hand clapping)
Hip
Hip
Replacement

thank you.
Please DO get in heated arguments over multiple rounds of piss beer with "the Boys" regarding our superiority to their favorite bands.
--Serious transition--
To trace for you the train of thought, we just had a band meeting. Can't figure out how the hell to sell records. Sports teams sell more seats in a stadium in one night than we've sold of our record Decomposer in 8 months. Bands have first week sales five times our cumulative efforts. I'm afraid our cd is slipping into the shadows of obscurity before it ever had a chance to really see daylight. And in the big-bill driven whirlwind world of hype and promo and PR, all I can really hope is that you might tell a friend about our band. Call me old fashioned. I will tip my cap.

Latent Introduction/ Righting the Impotent Pianist

By the way, I am Shawn, and I write and play in a band called the Matches. I am both reticent and curious toward keeping a public correspondence such as this one. Let's call my daily posts to come an experiment of sorts. I can scarcely imagine what I might divulge worthy of your reading, yet perhaps the point of this all is to share a subtle conciousness with the like of mind... I hold breath.
In other updates, I am pleased to announce that recently in New Orleans, I found a proper piano for the famed and unfortunate 46 foot tall pianist.

Play Maestro! Play us away from here!

Save the Endangered Words

I wrote a song with the hereby banished word "heart" in it. I am officially on laundry detail with 10 demerits until further notification. At least the "dance" bomb was not deployed. Dance- a word so highly endangered of losing all meaning that the penalty for it's poaching is no more than 15 minutes of fame in a maximum insecurity position on the billboard charts. (the Higher have been granted amnesty.)