There are over 100 million songs published online. In the face of this complete market saturation, it is reckless to bring new songs into the world. To combat overpopulation, China enforces a one-song-per-household limit. Not so in Ireland, where young couples are always getting drunk and recording unwanted duets, with no thought of how they're going to mix or master them later. Obviously, the only surefire way to prevent songs is to not sing at all, but if you have to sing, at least cover the microphone until you're emotionally ready to record a full album.
But hey, I am a grown man. A married homeowner with a stable income. There is nothing morally irresponsible about my wife and I recording a song or two.
And I admit it, Lauren and I probably talk about our songs way too much. But who wouldn't? Our songs are the best. Still, I bet it's really annoying for my brother and sister-in-law, who haven't yet decided if they want to record songs of their own.
The Hard Taco song for September is called, "Hide." Everyone tells me that this song has my wife's voice, but I think I hear a little of myself in it. Don't you think it's beautiful and unique as a snowflake? It's so special, I just know it could be a hit single someday, if it wants to.
But maybe I'm just projecting. Maybe I should stop telling the song what I want it to be and just listen to it.
A few seconds ago, I learned this word. Guess which definition of "Backmastering" is correct:
A. The second subtitle of the Jillian Michaels DVD, "Jillian Michaels: Total Body Toning Crush."
B. The German term for wielding a riding crop.
C. Inserting backwards Satanic messages into Classic Rock songs.
It's C. Subliminal devil worship has long typified the genre of Classic Rock, though the musicians rarely acknowledged it. Robert "The Seeds of Deceit and Corruption Must We" Plant famously told interviewers that the lyrics to Stairway to Heaven were "complete nonsense, and certainly not about my everlasting alliance with the Antichrist whose name is to be exalted/extolled." Then he looked at the interviewer, his long hair covering the Mark of the Beast on his forehead, and whispered in slow motion, "nataS teews ym to s'ereH."
And I'm sure you've noticed that The Beatles: Revolver unscrambles to "Vertebrates Love: Hel." That last word is gibberish, but try saying it aloud, and the message will become clear. The Liverpudlians sought to levy perdition upon not only mankind, but all 64,000 backbone-having species. Not fab, Fab Four. Not fab at all.
My father has an old medical textbook that refers to Occultist's Elbow, a condition that afflicted burnout teenagers in the 1970s. It was basically a repetitive stress injury caused by rotating records counter-clockwise. This is a very unnatural movement for any elbow, and many of these young miscreants had to ice their forearms for hours every time they wanted to hear their next command from the Prince of Darkness.
By time I was in high school, it was no longer practical for entertainers to mandate unspeakable acts of heresy and black magic. Most of us couldn't figure out how to play a CD backwards. And so some things that should not have been forgotten were lost.
But now there are apps that play music files in reverse, which makes it remarkably easy to record new versions of Classic Rock songs. Try this at home. Record yourself saying the following:
His Satanic Majesty, the Great Deceiver, shall flay the skin of the innocent and scorch the Earth in hellfire. O harbinger of wickedness and fomenter of devilment, Father of Avarice, Underminer of Virtue, bid the streets of Gomorrah run red with the blood products of the righteous. Lo.
Now run it through a reversing app. Go on, I'll wait.
See? It sounds exactly like the 1981 Stevie Nicks hit, "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around."
With warmest moral outrage,