Sic Semper Tyrannis

For a Good Time...

...Come see Grandpa Griffith at Galileo's this Friday night 1/6/06.

It's terribly busy up here at work today, leaving me very little time to compose, so I thought I would leave you a little behind-the-scenes nicety. Here is the self-promoting manifesto I wrote a couple years ago to give our press kit a little beefing up. (You can tell its age based on the albums I was listening to.)



If you buy one album this year, it should be Fountains of Wayne’s Welcome Interstate Managers. If you buy two albums this year, you should also pick up Sixpence None the Richer’s Divine Discontent now, since you probably didn’t when it came out. If you’re looking for a third album to round out your collection, may I suggest the Grandpa Griffith album Jay? It’s loaded with thirteen tracks of insanely catchy songs that run the gamut of genres, from pop to pap, rock to schlock. Interestingly, the band’s overall aesthetic transcends genre classification by being hyper-inclusive. Never mind the kitchen sink, this band indeed throws it all in there, including the pipes that connect to the kitchen sink.

And did I mention it’s catchy? These boys must lock themselves into some secret underground lab with white coats and test tubes, analyzing the music of the last two hundred years- performing normative studies on the relationships between melody, harmony, tempo, key, theme and “attitude,” to come up with some of this stuff.

Now, some sucka MCs might front on the band and try to pigeonhole them as some kind of novelty act along the lines of Ray Stevens or Weird Al. To that, they would probably say, “Sure. But we’re also The Beatles’ ‘Yellow Submarine.’ We’re Queen’s ‘Bicycle Race.’ We’re Elton John’s ‘Crocodile Rock.’ We exalt the laughable absurdity of rock and roll in particular and pop music in general.”

Grandpa Griffith creates music in expectation of a hidden pop culture kingdom that is yet to come. Unlike the revered Martin Luther King, Jr.; there are no sweet dreams for these boys, for they are kept up at night with a plaguing vision of what could be—a vision of a popular culture where the pretty people sit on the bench. The moaning mass of the consuming public is no longer kept down by the hopeless chains and anchors of the glossy, flashy music industry-which feeds them food which does not satiate.

Oh, it’s a glorious kingdom, my brothers and sisters- a kingdom where you’re allowed to laugh at the pompous sneers of chest-beating nihilists and self-important indie-rock poseurs who mope their way to the bank and violently split up the spoils of the pillaged working man’s hard-earned money like so many hungry, cannibal-jackals. No longer are you forced to stare blankly at the countless magazine covers around the world that advertise the youthful, plastic-faced “entertainers” of the day, the puppets of the horrible trend-producing machine, and hopelessly wish that you looked like them.

This band of visionaries works diligently to bring about this new culture of, (dare I say the F-word?) FUN. Gasp! Shriek! Oh, the horror!

Indeed, they are determined to make you remember the last time you laughed at something other than your fellow man’s misfortunes.

But make no mistake, this fun stuff is serious business. That’s why they are committed to delivering their message to as many as will listen-by recording their music onto compact discs and performing said music in public-in front of crowds of people, no less!

Prepare ye the way for the Grandpa! Make straight the paths!

For they are ushering in the new kingdom!

Viva la revolucion!

Copyright 2003 Michael Stutzman

posted by Mike @ 3:02 PM