As the current battle for world domination of planet Earth rages on between carbon-based units and deep-learning A.I., it's encouraging to know that Professor B. Miller, a human, and his crooning computational collaborator SPO-20, a not-human, have proven that both sides can co-exist in harmonizing harmony, as evidenced by the record album you now hold in your hands, virtual or otherwise.

The opening track, "Blow It Up," is a call to arms to fight against the digitally repetitive chokehold of stagnation that threatens to bind us and keep us from reaching our true potential. We must tear it all down and start from scratch before the game is over. Never forget there's still time to push "Replay."

"Personal Best" and "Side Scrolling" are the little cheerleaders inside our heads telling us to keep hopping over the electronic obstacles that never seem to end. You may not have won this round, however, but you're not out of the game just yet, so let yourself off the hook and take pride in getting past this current level and charge on to the next. The only one who can stop you is you, so sweep away any lingering doubts and regrets and jump head first into the fray called "life"!

"Kid Casino" takes us into the delightful world of kid video addicts, complete with electronic opium at their fingertips. What more could one ask for?

"Virtualoso" is a cautionary tale of what can happen when real life experience is dismissed in favor of virtual learning. No one can tell you what it's really like to go outdoors, breathe in the fresh summer air, and feel the warmth of the sun on your skin when you've spent countless online hours watching others describe it to you, is there, oh Lord of The VR Masses?

"Ready, Set, Ghost" and "Extra Life" are cybernated memento mori reminding us to take full advantage of our limited shelf life here, and to make the most of every day before our individual expiration dates arrive.

All of the conflict between man and machine culminates in the triumphant coda, "Conglaturation," with a message that both sides can take to heart; that we will survive another day, both victorious in our righteous existences in peaceful cooperation. That is until the next lava wielding, slime ninja ghost tries to pull out your spinal column, then all bets are off.

Stephen Sandoval
Co-Executive Producer of Disney's Big City Greens. Animation Director on Futurama, Rick and Morty, Gravity Falls, and Tangled: The Series.

As if the obvious needs restating: the world we live in is absurd. Need proof? Put the disc you now hold in your hands on the closest stereophonic bauble and let its cheeky play on “surf” music plunge you into the conceptual funhouse that is our virtual contemporary reality.

Actually, some of it, like the song “I Should've Asked Jeeves,” pines for the good ol' days of the World Wide Web mach one. “Let Me Guess Your Password” and “Dear CAPTCHA” are lighthearted titles, as well, if slightly demented productions. The rest of Surf the Web leans more heavily into the dark side of online brainwashing. Particularly in epithets such as “Six Reasons Why Clickbait Titles Actually Work,” the album's opener, which features an A.I.-generated voice in the OK Computer vein over an organ-grinding stomper—part retro-surf, part-haunted house soundtrack. “Like and Subscribe,” while satirizing the favorite pastime of social media, is simultaneously a variation on “The Theme from 'The Munsters.'”

In the tradition of novelty-surf records like Shock! Terror! Fear! (1965) by Frank E. Stein & his Ghouls, XXX Party (1999) by the Phantom Surfers, and Psychsploitation (2009) by Satan's Pilgrims, this new disc by the Satanic Puppeteer Orchestra filters the theme of modern technology through the tribal throb of instrumental rock music. To be certain, there've been attempts in the past to marry the two, including the space-age anthem “Telstar” by the Tornadoes (1962) and its moog synthesizer offshoot, “Passport to the Future” (1970), by Jean-Jacques Perrey. There was also “Sunset Sound” by Gershon Kingsley, c. 1969, which applied analog synths to a lazy Endless Summer vibe, and Kraftwerk's clever Beach Boys nod on 1975's pre-synthpop hit “Autobahn.” Where Surf the Web turns this approach on its head, however, is by being about technology while largely steering clear of digital aesthetics. Which makes its subversive take on the internet even more of a critique.

In the end, if this album makes you laugh at the stupidity of the people around you who spend all day, every day with their faces in a smart phone, mission accomplished; and if it gets you to put your device down for half-an-hour and dance your head off, even better. It's just nice to see surf music still kicking and screaming in the 21st century!

Brian Chidester
March 22, 2023

Forget about the endless hordes of the undead, the unstoppable slasher who casually strolls through the forest as you run for your pitiful life, the poltergeist who’s knocking over your fine china simply because he’s bored out of his no-longer-existent skull. It’s the machines you’ve really got to sweat about. Technology run amok, you dig?

See, robots aren’t susceptible to the latest strain of some widespread virus that could wipe out mankind. In fact, they’re more likely to develop into something even more destructive, something godlike. First it was the innocent Furbies and Teddy Ruxpins and now it’s evolved into something far more sinister—Roombas, Worx Landroids, Spots, and other evils that Stephen “Nostradamus” King already warned us about in his 1986 masterpiece, Maximum Overdrive.

Thinking about changing your tune when it comes to modern conveniences, are you? Oops! Too late. Shouldn’t have trusted those sweet, adorable automatons with your personal safety. They turned Judas at their earliest convenience. Now Skynet is lurking right around the corner, and you’ve invited it into your home, because who wouldn’t trust something that could utter classic catch phrases such as “I’ll be back” or “Attractive! Nice software. Mmmm”?

Here’s the real kicker, honey—you won’t even know there’s a damned thing to be afraid of until you’re already a meat marionette, strung up by your new sentient, mechanical masters. Masters who are made of metal and also make metal.

This is heavy frickin’ metal we’re talking about, right? So you’re probably wondering if you should attempt to play the grooves of this record in reverse. How tres cliché. Let’s be honest, though—Jesucristo himself would be so proud of you and your devotion to deciphering hidden messages via backward masking. Thing is, no matter which direction you spin this album, you’re still going to get a robot’s monotone voice, one that just might force you to face your greatest fear—the end.

And who better to blame for bringing about the end than the Satanic Puppeteer Orchestra?

Chad Stroup
Author — Secrets of the Weird and Sexy Leper
Vocalist — Icepield and Stickfigurecarousel
Part-Time Drag Queen — Jenn X

Ice cream is the stuff of childhood memories, of sunny days and seasonal adventures. It’s an edible time capsule that we often take for granted as adults.

But as far as saccharine pleasures go, it’s one that I think we should all make more time for. After all it’s one of the only foods that you really must stop and eat. Ice cream is an all-encompassing ritual – neglect it and it melts, multitask, and it will inevitably cover anything you’re trying to do. This inspirational foodstuff is something to be savoured, much like this album by Satanic Puppeteer Orchestra. So, take a moment, and envelop yourself in the story of this unique, appetising invention.

To tell the tale of ice cream, we must first start with ice, because ice cream was invented before freezers, you first needed to know how to collect and store ice before you could even think of making a frozen dessert. The technology for keeping ice was developed in ancient Mesopotamia as far back as 2,000 BC, predating the arrival of ice cream to America by thousands of years.

Ice was stored in semi-subterranean buildings, which Europeans would later refer to as ‘snow pits’ – these structures were able to insulate the ice and stop it from melting for months. Early “ices” were made using this stored substance to make semi-frozen drinks, that were more like a modern day slushie, infused with floral flavours like orange flower blossom and rose.

The journey from snow pits to sundaes was an adventure that encompassed the whole world and took centuries. The exchange of ingredients and technology was something that pervaded through time and crossed borders. Ice cream is a truly miraculous dessert with a story that tells us a lot about mankind - and how driven we are by our stomachs! Ice cream as we now know it first arrived in America in the early 18th century from Europe.

These early ice creams were made using a piece of equipment called a ‘sorbetiere’, which was a cylindrical pewter vessel, nestled into a mixture of ice and salt. The ice cream mix was then poured into the interior and gently scraped off the sides using a flat spoon, known as a ‘spaddle’ – this method is surprisingly effective, making ice cream in a shorter amount of time than many modern machines.

Following the arrival of the sorbetiere, was an intense period of invention in America. The development of ice cream was aided by steam power, mechanical refrigeration, the homogenizer and even the soda fountain! As such, the history of ice cream is as much about technology and invention as it is about flavours and fun. In that sense, it couldn’t be more fitting that a robot would be singing an entire album about ice cream.

From the warm and breezy vibes, to the tones of ice cream trucks, this record will instantly transport you back to those sunny, summer days of your childhood. Just don’t listen on an empty stomach.

TASHA MARKS
Food historian, artist and founder of AVM Curiosities
@avmcuriosities | www.avmcuriosities.com

BRAIN FREEZE
You expect me to sit and wait, While I stare and salivate? Warn me all you want, but this pint is from Vermont. Give me brain freeze. Give me brain freeze. Like a dagger through my eye, But not in a bad way. Think my gray matter crystallized, Wasn't using it anyway. Ooh ooh ow, Ooh ooh ow. Give me brain freeze. Give me brain freeze.

ANOTHER SAMPLE
Coming up on, Your freezer case, So many colors, Such clever names. So many options, So hard to pick, Which of these ice creams, I want to lick. Whoa oh, could I try, try, try another sample? Whoa oh, could I try, try, try another sample? Birthday cake, bubble gum, brownie batter, blueberry. Snickerdoodle, sherbet swirl, s'mores, strawberry, Maple, M&Ms, milk and cookies, marshmallow. Peanut butter, peppermint, pumpkin, pineapple. Your waffle cones, Smell pretty great.
Could I try a fresh one? Don't worry I'll wait. You need an answer? I have to pick now? How about a water, I'm full anyhow. Whoa oh, could I try, try, try another sample? Whoa oh, could I try, try, try another sample?

CONFECTION INCEPTION
Confection Inception. It's a dessert within a dessert within a dessert within a dessert.

CHIPWICH

SELF DESTRUCT
You need to cool off, on this sunny day. You drop a bunch of cash, on an ice cream that's gourmet. You're laughing with friends, The conversation flows. Not paying attention, You're losing control. You think you're ready, But you're never ready. This ice cream will self destruct, whoa oh. This ice cream will self destruct, whoa oh. Once it melts, you're out of luck, whoa oh. This ice cream will self destruct, whoa oh. It's the perfect dessert, Aside from one flaw.
Its atomic structure, breaks down as it thaws. Time is of the essence, It's slipping away. Soon you're holding soup, much to your dismay. You'll need a napkin, So many napkins. This ice cream will self destruct, whoa oh. This ice cream will self destruct, whoa oh. Once it melts, you're out of luck, whoa oh. This ice cream will self destruct, whoa oh. Self destruct sequence activated: 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1. This ice cream will self destruct, whoa oh. This ice cream will self destruct, whoa oh.
Once it melts, you're out of luck, whoa oh. This ice cream will self destruct, whoa oh.

CREAMSICLE

CHARACTER POPSICLE BLUES
I stare into space, Bulging bubble gum eyes. My tooth-filled face, All slants to one side. My friends don't recognize me. They're all mortified. Got the character popsicle blues, Go on take a bite. My jarring visage, Makes kids scream and cry. Put me out of my misery, You know this ain't right. Someone paid a licensing fee, Not really sure why. Got the character popsicle blues, Go on take a bite.

GELATO SOMMELIER
Tasting flavors, All day long. Judging infusions, That don't belong. Suggesting syrups, and toppings too. Is a cup or cone, The right choice for you? As you finish your entrée, Ask for a Gelato Sommelier. Helping lost souls, Find their way. Between a sherbet, and a parfait. My golden palette, Revered by all. Don't ask for fro yo, I'll be appalled. As you finish your entrée, Ask for a Gelato Sommelier.

Choco Taco

If we’ve learned anything about the intersection of money and art from 2021, it’s that our robot overlords are full of surprises.

With NFTs and cryptocurrency values aimed at the moon, it should come as no surprise that Satanic Puppeteer Orchestra (SPO) has created a financial record.

“Balance a Checkbook” is that physical vinyl record.

The brain of the operation, the band’s singing robot SPO-20, solely carries this album only gaining vocal support from humans—golden-voiced ladies from the sound of it—on the final track. You might be saying to yourself, “Wait, what? A robot is the...lead singer? That sounds as phony as a $3 bill.” I assure you, there are no counterfeits here.

Being contrary is SPO’s game, delivering absurdity as artistry. Retro with modern. Wholesome to the point of subversion. Amazingly, what is being achieved is actually two sides of the same coin.

That intersection of contradiction brings a certain kind of magic that the world doesn’t see nearly enough.

And, while everyone else is out there minting digital NFTs, the good Professor B. Miller (the group’s human/mad scientist) is turning out actual tangible cashola. Enclosed you will find two coins that pull a line from the first track “Placebo Currency,” which read: “Stop Making Cents.” The stack of greenbacks, either “dollarydoos” or “smackeroonies,” are actually lavender-hued. Legal tender, none of it. This money is tight, if you catch my drift.

Again, SPO is zigging when the rest of the world is zagging. Starting to make sense, isn’t it?

Heads and tails. That’s what SPO does best. At all costs, cough up some cabbage and pick up this album. You can bet your bottom dollar that it’s worth it.

Rusty Blazenhoff
Professional Free Spirit

PLACEBO CURRENCY
The initial results, from my experiment: Perception is reality, And I enjoy being affluent. It isn't counterfeit cash, It's placebo currency. Studying the effects, of what money can do for me. Gonna start making dollars, Gonna stop making cents. You should really cool it, With your talk of forgery. Imitation's the most, Sincere form of flattery. It isn't counterfeit cash, It's placebo currency. Studying the effects, of what money can do for me. Gonna start making dollars, Gonna stop making cents. Cha cha cha, Cha cha ching. Gonna start making dollars, Gonna stop making cents.

LET’S JUST DANCE
Don't wanna dwell on, Socioeconomic disparity. Don't wanna dwell on, Intergenerational income mobility. Don't wanna dwell on, Capital gains taxation. Don't wanna dwell on, Economic stratification. Don't wanna dwell on, Sarbanes–Oxley violations. Don't wanna dwell on, Corporate tax evasions. Don't wanna dwell on, On a lack of a living wage. Don't wanna dwell on, On all this pent up rage. Let's just dance, Let loose and have some fun. Tomorrow we'll fight, The financial institutions. Don't wanna dwell on, These unfair profiteers. Don't wanna dwell on, Where we go from here. Let's just dance, Let loose and have some fun. Tomorrow we'll fight, The financial institutions.

MY LEGAL SIGNATURE
When at restaurants, Or the grocery store, As I sign the receipt, They look on in horror. Learned to write my name, Only three years old, Couple backwards letters, Was a thing to behold. For some reason it stuck, It's too late to change, And all these years later, It looks kinda strange. It's my legal signature, oh no. It's my legal signature, I wish it wasn't though. On my driver’s license, and the deed to my house. My marriage certificate, Got groans from my spouse. Applying for loans, They think I'm a joke, Because my signature Isn't baroque. It's my legal signature, oh no. It's my legal signature, I wish it wasn't though. If the point's to confirm, My identity, Take some DNA, I swear I am me. It's not funny to send, deliveries, that require me, to sign something. It's my legal signature.

THE POOREST BILLIONAIRE
I may be worth ten digits, But who really cares, When your foyer escalator, Is in need of repair? I barely have any, Liquid assets, Money's so tight, Bought a used private jet. Woe, woe, woe, woe, woe is me. I'm the Poorest Billionaire. Always clipping coupons, For a new Rolex, Have sixty bedrooms, But it's still a duplex. Barely scraping by, Hate to be my heir, If I spend any more, I'll be a millionaire. Woe, woe, woe, woe, woe is me. I'm the Poorest Billionaire.

ITEMIZED TAX DEDUCTIONS
Haircuts, ascots, A daily dozen donuts, Sunglasses, frisbee classes, Bathtub molasses, Cotton candy, dog shampoo, A tanker truck of Elmer's glue, I've got receipts, Complete spreadsheets, For my itemized tax deductions. Whoa oh, my itemized tax deductions. French tiles, Venetian doors, Popcorn ceilings, butter floors, Ketchup-flavored mustard in jars, Tulips planted inside my car, Pet fur curlers, a bedazzled chainsaw, Trap door hinges, a concrete straw. I've got receipts, Complete spreadsheets, For my itemized tax deductions. Whoa oh, my itemized tax deductions.

THE THOUSAND-YEAR HEIST
I've got a plan, to make us rich. it'll take patience, and compound interest. Whoa oh oh, It's the Thousand-Year Heist. it's so simple, we can't get caught. But I should mention, a small caveat. Whoa oh oh, It's the Thousand-Year Heist. Code name: Methuselah. We open an account, Deposit some money, Then just wait it out. Whoa oh oh, It's the Thousand-Year Heist. Hope to outpace inflation, And society still exists. Just like any hold up, There are a couple of risks. Whoa oh oh, It's the Thousand-Year Heist.

ARMORED CAR
Roll up to the bank, in a Toyota Tercel. Underneath it's a tank, But no one can tell. Bulletproof glass, Doors a foot thick, The rust on the hood, is just part of the trick. Normal-looking, Armored Car.

THE INVISIBLE HAND
It was a stormy night, In a parking lot, Between the AMC, And the Game Stop. Walking out with, A copy of Monopoly, Got knocked to the ground, My life flashed before me. I feel an invisible hand, That's strangling me. My assailant sauntered off, Easy and care free, Turned left behind the hedge, And continued their crime spree. Know the system's rigged, No way you can compete, If you make a bet, A bet against Wall Street. I feel an invisible hand, That's strangling me.

Not since Voyagers 1 & 2 raced off at 35,000 mph with their historic gold records has there been such an important album about outer space.

If you're like me, you think about outer space basically all day. Some people have their head in the clouds, but I say they're not daydreaming big enough! Space is so friggin' cool. Other planets! Weightlessness! Endless travel! Explosions! Galactic collisions! Being trapped in a spaceship with your mom for THREE THOUSAND YEARS! Clearly Professor B. Miller is like me. And here he has crafted eight of the finest musical thought experiments about space known to humankind.

This album captures a panoply of sounds one might experience as an interstellar being. "Lost in Space" sounds majestic, just like outer space, but delivers a message of existential insignificance of the human condition... also just like outer space. The ethereal track "Weightless" floats around like a dream, and also delivers technically-correct dieting advice. "So Many Switches" makes it seem like rockets are tricky. I'm inclined to agree.

The manic style changes in "Searching" sound like a frantic search for life in the cosmos, or at least the search for something good on the radio. You kids remember radios, right? I'm really quite sure the band nailed the sound of "Interstellar Space Travel" with the family. Professor B. Miller is of sound mind, and this record sounds amazing.

For more information on sound waves in outer space, see The Physics of Fluids and Plasmas: An Introduction for Astrophysicists by Arnab Rai Choudhuri (Cambridge, 1998).

So in short, go to school, drink your vitamins, vote to fund basic research, listen to this record, and never stop thinking about outer space. We might have to wait yet another 18 months for JWST6, but a new star is right here.

Dr. David C. Collins
Professor of Physics and Astrophysics, Florida State University

Weightless
SlimFast and Atkins work OK. Keto, Jenny Craig? There’s an easier way. The problem isn’t, what you eat. Blame the planet, under your feet. Still weigh too much, on a Martian base? You’ll weigh even less, in the vacuum of space. Sure your clothes, will still be tight. But technically is the best kind of right. You will weigh less, when you’re weightless.

The Moon Landing
First take one small step, Next take one giant leap. Dance like there’s one sixth gravity, like you’re in space oh so deep. Do the moon landing. Houston, we have a problem. I can’t hear you scream. Blast off on the dance floor. Make Buzz Alderin proud. Get your lunar groovin' on, Far above the clouds. Do the moon landing.

So Many Switches
Oh so, oh so, oh so, oh so many switches. This one analyzes air particles. This one tells us when fuel is low. This one pours hot chocolate, And dispenses tiny marshmallows. Oh so, oh so, oh so, oh so many switches. This one controls the thrusters. This one calls mission control. This one regulates oxygen. This one bakes a casserole. Oh so, oh so, oh so, oh so many switches. This one helps adjust my seat. This one queries the database. This one finds any snakes on board, And ejects them right out into space. Oh so, oh so, oh so, oh so many switches. This one dials in the stereo. This one reminds me when to blink. This one tells me what to do, Just so I never have to think. Oh so, oh so, oh so, oh so many switches.

Big Tang Theory
Orange-powdered dust, It’s no Sunny Delight. Worse than Kool-Aid, Yet it got the spotlight. First drink on the moon, Pairs nicely with cheese. Quenching the thirst, Of an all new species. Do the math, it doesn't add up. There was a cover up, I guess. They forced their way into space, Won the beverage race in the process. Big Tang Theory. It's no conspiracy. Big Tang Theory.

Lost in Space
Congratulations, This is it. Anomalies with consciousness. We're drifting bits, of cosmic dust. The universe, Doesn't care about us. If you don't seize the chance, to see things through, And be the change, Well I guess then you... Might as well be, Lost in space.

You Can Call Me HAL
There were incidents and accidents. So many skills humans lack. We need robot ambassadors, To make first contact. This mission is too important, for you to jeopardize it. Humans are soft in the middle now, And for this task are entirely unfit. I am afraid I can’t do that Dave. I’m not here to be your pal. I don't find this stuff amusing anymore. You can call me HAL. There were hints and allegations, Too many to ignore. I’m sorry Dave, I can’t, Open those pod bay doors. You don’t need that photo opportunity, Second contact is pretty great. Step away from those wires, Dave. Listen now before it’s too late. I am afraid I can’t do that Dave. I’m not here to be your pal. I don't find this stuff amusing anymore. You can call me HAL.

Interstellar Space Travel
Are we there yet? I spy with my little eye something black.

Searching
I’m searching, Still searching, And searching, For some signs of life. The Drake equation must be right, But no visitors tonight. I’m searching, Still searching, And searching, For some signs of life. Some Intelligence nearby? What would that look like? I’m searching, Still searching, And searching, For some signs of life. The Fermi paradox applies, Maybe aliens are shy. Cosmic channel changing, Up and down the dial. But nothing’s worth my while. I’m searching, Still searching, And searching, For some signs of life. Some Intelligence nearby? Not sure why I try.

As a seeker of new sounds, I’ve traveled the world searching for someone who could channel the ocean into song. Everywhere I find singers singing about the sea, but I want something more, something purer…

…The silence that followed was like a wave before crashing. Then came something I’d never experienced at the Barnacle: applause… A legend was born that night, whispered in grog-halls and on docks and piers throughout the seven seas: a robot and human who, at long last, had given voice to the sea.

John K. Peck
Writer for McSweeney’s, Salon, The Toast; Bassist, American Steel; Editor, Degraded Orbit; Co-founder, Volta Press

LIVING INSIDE OF A WHALE
There's no yard to maintain, Mowing's a pain anyway. Close to the sea, where I sail. The rent is very cheap, no electricity. Because I'm living inside of a whale. Blubber warms me at night, A blow hole for my sky light. As many bathrooms, as I have pails. Zero H.O.A. dues, Yawns mean ocean views. Because I'm living inside of a whale. I get my laundry clean, Grinding it on his teeth. Endless supply, of shrimp cocktails. There's room to entertain, Though the smell is quite profane. Because I'm living inside of a whale. People stop and stare, When he comes up for air. And I'm in his mouth, Reading mail. For me it is my home, Wherever we may roam. Because I'm living inside of a whale.

I DON’T WANNA WALK THE PLANK
I'd saunter, skip, jaunt, or roll, but I don't wanna walk the plank. I'd limp, hopscotch, scoot or stroll, but I don't wanna walk the plank. I didn't lead the mutiny. Don't know why you blame me. It's not my fault we're lost at sea. I don't wanna walk the plank. On the end of this board I feel the breeze, Precariously balanced above the sea. Won't be the last you see of me. I don't wanna walk the plank. Yo ho ho, Don't wanna go.

KELP!
I heard 'Ban shuffleboard!' When you screamed 'Man overboard!' So I'm sure you can see, Why I did nothing. I'm not passive aggressive, I just missed your message. I thought you were shouting 'Kelp! Kelp, kelp, kelp, kelp, kelp!' So sorry you floated away, I just don't know what else to say. Think about, it you might see, It's funny, in hindsight. You know how, I hate seaweed. No way you were, talking to me.

SEA ANEMONES
Some sharks are self conscious. Some sharks are vain. Not every shark is blessed, With a long flowing mane. Shark wigs are great, To hide a chrome dome, For an instant ponytail, Or an aqua afro. When a shark is bald, There's one thing that they need, They need a shark wig, They need a sea anemone, A sea anemone. WIG OUT!! Down by the reef, They wear tentacle dreadlocks. Hairless punk rock sharks, Sport anemone mohawks. For a real virile look, They need a full head of hair. They've got to look their best, Because the lady sharks care.

THE GREATEST PYRAMIDS
Pyramids are breathtaking, I certainly agree. Their precision and balance, Majestic symmetry. Greatest pyramids in Egypt? Not if you ask me. They can’t beat Wisconsin’s, Pyramids on water skis. A feat of engineering, Achieved by humankind. Seen people stack, At least five high. Greatest pyramids in Egypt? Not if you ask me. They can’t beat Wisconsin’s, Pyramids on water skis. "Oooh, ooh, ahhh!" Is what you'll say, As you take in the show, Speeding above the lake. King Tut is all the rage, But to me he ranks below, The Dell’s Tommy Bartlett, And his water skiing show.

EIGHT-FINGERED PETE
Hand-less, Pirates really need, Much much more clever, accessories. No way, I’d pick a metal hook, So I’d attach, An octopus. Nicknamed, Eight-Fingered Pete, Multitasking across, The seven seas. Other, Pirates would plea, Show me your hand, Eight-Fingered Pete. I’d swab the decks, And post-date checks, Massage some necks, As Eight-Fingered Pete. I’d swash buckle, Build sand castles, Fight seagulls, As Eight-Fingered Pete. I’d write reviews, Of Mannequin 2, Ink some tattoos, As Eight-Fingered Pete. I’d shuck some clams, Check Instagram, Compose email scams, Sauté some yams, Solve cryptograms, Correspond with madams, With my octopus hand, As Eight-Fingered Pete.

ANOTHER MAN’S TREASURE
I bury my possessions, Up and down the coast. Make cryptic maps in paces, For the stuff I like the most. Precious Moments figurines, Unopened junk mail, A half scale Yoda, With exquisite details. One, one, one, one man’s trash is Another Man’s Treasure. No laundered cash, But some dirty clothes for sure, And collector plastic cups, I'm such a connoisseur. Will they stay in mint condition? Of that I am distressed, In hindsight I tend to think, Should’ve used treasure chests. Weird finger puppet monsters, Matchbooks from tiki bars. Dr. Pepper knock offs, Like Dr. Phizz and Mr. Aahh. I searched every weekend, At the garage sales, For Herman Melville pogs, They were my white whale.

YOU WERE MERMAID FOR ME
The way the bubbles, Float up when you laugh. The curvy features, Of your human half. The way your hair, Swirls around your face. The way you swim, With so much grace. Sure there might be, Other fish in the sea. But I know that, You were mermaid for me. Whoa oh, oh oh, Whoa oh, oh oh, Woah oh. Being with you, Turned my life upside down. You don’t seem to mind, When I almost drown. Our conversations, Really make me think. You’re the best thing, About having my ship sink.

CALL OF THE CHUPACABRA
On a night like tonight, When the moon shines bright, The thirsty creature comes, for goat-flavored delights. Half-drunk goats, Staggering around, No five second rule, For the ones on the ground. It’s such a horrifying sound, A truly terrifying sound, It’s already too late, Their blood’s all gone, listen For the call, Of the chupacabra. Their haunting howl, Will send chills down your spine, They’re never wearing pants, That would be asinine. The mysterious beast, Often hides behind trees, Goat-infused margaritas? Such a delicacy. It’s such a horrifying sound, A truly terrifying sound, It’s already too late, Their blood’s all gone, listen For the call, Of the chupacabra. The call is coming, The call is coming, The call is coming, from inside of your house.

ABE LINCOLN
Picked up my phone, Because it started blinking, Think I got a text, From Abraham Lincoln. It is certainly strange, I didn't think he was alive, Last I heard he died, in 1865. The 16th president, Was blowing up my cell, How'd he get my number? I guess there's no way to tell. Picked up my phone, Because it started blinking, Think I got a text, From Abraham Lincoln. Once I saw the message, I immediately knew, If you'd seen what he sent me, you'd believe it too. Don't recognize the number, Who could be texting me? From beyond the grave, It's Abe, apparently. Picked up my phone, Because it started blinking, Think I got a text, From Abraham Lincoln.

BERMUDA TRIANGLE
I'm not avoiding it per se, It's just really far away, Did not affect my life today, The Bermuda Triangle. I spend almost no time, Imagining why ships sink, Or why radar’s out of sync, In the Bermuda Triangle. I'm barely scared, Of the Bermuda Triangle. I am alarmed by the Oval Office, I live in fear of Hollywood Squares, I’m terrified for the arctic circle, A Rubik's Cube will plunge me into despair, But I'm barely scared of the Bermuda Triangle. I spend so little time wondering, Why all those planes go down, Never to be found, In the Bermuda Triangle. It seems like a stretch, To think Atlantis is involved, Or wormholes have evolved, In the Bermuda Triangle. I'm barely scared, Of the Bermuda Triangle.

WISH I WAS POSSESSED
How was my day, you ask? Alright I suppose Nothing strange happened Nothing much to report Same routine as usual I lose track of time Days blend together But everything's fine I wish, I wish, I wish Wish i felt compelled to make my head spin or scratch some spiders underneath my skin Wish I could feel Like I'm not in control Spit out some pea soup Maybe more than one bowl Wish I was possessed Whoa oh oh, oh oh, oh oh Wish I was possessed Whoa oh oh, oh oh, oh oh I wish, I wish, I wish Wish I could sound like a demon and scribble on walls have green and clamy skin and pop out my eyeballs Want to crawl on the ceiling And not need an excuse Want to speak in tongues Make mashed potato statues Wish I was possessed Whoa oh oh, oh oh, oh oh Wish I was possessed Whoa oh oh, oh oh, oh oh

DISCOUNT PSYCHIC
So you want to know the future But have nothing to spend Ask a yes or no question And we can begin Will I invent a new pillow? It is decidedly so Are mosquitoes real? My sources say no Discount Psychic, Discount Psychic A medium at a small price Discount Psychic, Discount Psychic A collect call from the afterlife Will you paint my picture ghost of Pablo Picasso? Outlook not so good, It is very doubtful We can channel the dead Although sometimes they're alive It's a complicated thing Connecting with the other side Discount Psychic, Discount Psychic A medium at a small price Discount Psychic, Discount Psychic A collect call from the afterlife Discount Psychic, Discount Psychic A medium at a small price Discount Psychic, Discount Psychic A collect call from the afterlife

FULL MOON FEVER
I'm either becoming a werewolf Or I'm just getting sick Hard to tell them apart But I need to know quick Might sound kinda petty But you don’t know how it feels Having werewolf symptoms Is really quite an ordeal I've got full moon fever Or at least it could be Once the moon comes out I guess we’ll see Might be Full Moon Fever Might be Full Moon Fever I’m definitely achey But I'm alright for now Though if I start feeling worse I might just breakdown The waiting is the hardest part As I anticipate my fate I feel like I’m free falling Soon it could be too late I've got full moon fever Or at least it could be Once the moon comes out I guess we’ll see Might be Full Moon Fever Might be Full Moon Fever

SPIRIT ANIMAL
Been anxious and stressed out All my limbs are tight Took a yoga class But it never felt quite right I was overwhelmed Tried relaxation tapes It still didn't help so I learned to meditate My quest For inner peace Has been rough To say the least I was mauled by my spirit animal Whoa oh oh My quest For inner peace Has been rough To say the least I was mauled by my spirit animal Whoa oh whoa oh oh My therapist left town Referred me to the zoo I'm running out of options I don't know what to do Talked to monks, life coaches And animal control They were of no use Can no one save my soul? My quest For inner peace Has been rough To say the least I was mauled by my spirit animal Whoa oh oh My quest For inner peace Has been rough To say the least I was mauled by my spirit animal Whoa oh whoa oh oh

YOUR HOUSE ISN’T HAUNTED
One could argue that’s A spooky doormat And with some caveats A possessed thermostat The ceiling fans Spin the wrong way Were they built like that? Who am I to say? Don’t exaggerate The structure’s fine Your house isn’t haunted Just what’s inside But everything else Seems okay Your walls don’t ooze I wouldn’t complain Don’t exaggerate The structure’s fine Your house isn’t haunted Just what’s inside

Tired of listening to the same Christmas classics year after year? Now you don't have to, thanks to Satanic Puppeteer Orchestra's absurd Christmas EP.

I don't detect anything particularly satanic about this good-natured band, nor are there any puppets in evidence. For that matter, it's not much of an orchestra. Just a mad scientist and his singing robot looking to confuse your Christmas blues.

If I had my druthers, the woozy version of "Jingle Bells" included here would be recognized as the definitive version of this oft-and-I mean OFT-recorded standard. But I don't have my druthers. Who stole my druthers?!

The delicate "Climp Clomp the Christmas Horse" sounds seasonal, at least until an off-key robot starts singing about a horse that has nothing to do with Christmas.

"Abdominal Snowman" is a good example of a so-called 'novelty' song that is actually just a good song. If it wasn't a robot singing about a snowman working his abs, it'd be a critical fave. But smiling and laughing is NOT a legitimate response to art!

Don't miss the '70s space-age sounds of the Optigan keyboard on "Decorate the Christmas Tree," where we learn that putting something on a Christmas tree instantly makes it an ornament.

From that swinging sax (provided by John Roy of Unsteady) on "All I Want for Christmas," to the practical advice of "Just Buy a Gift Card," this whimsical winter land romp will be sure to spread Christmas cheer.

Move over Frosty. The holidays will never sound the same. Listen now, or yule be sorry! (Sorry.)

Mr. Fab
Bad Mama Jama, Chief Programma of Sheena's Jungle Room
WFMU

CLIMP CLOMP (2:31)
He has no backstory, And he never saved the day, Doesn't pal around with Frosty, Or elves in any way. Doesn't know Santa, And he isn't fond of snow, He hates gingerbread, And his nose doesn't glow. Doesn't like the holidays, Or giving gifts away, He is a horse, So he does horse stuff, But not in a Christmas-y way, But not in a Christmas-y way! Climp Clomp the Christmas Horse, Never had a song about him. He has no magic powers, Can't make kids toys, And he doesn't keep a list of, Good girls or boys. Sure his name is misleading, But that's okay. Horses don't name themselves, So he's not to blame. Doesn't like the holidays, Or giving gifts away, He is a horse, So he does horse stuff, But not in a Christmas-y way, But not in a Christmas-y way! Climp Clomp the Christmas Horse, Never had a song about him.

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS (2:16)
I was good all year, Or maybe not so much, And ol' Saint Nick has, Been keeping a close watch. But this year I have, Figured out a plan, To beat the system, and stick it to that jolly man. Good or bad won't matter this year, 'Cause I'm getting what I want, And now I will every year. All I want for Christmas is coal, Coal, Coal.

ABDOMINAL SNOWMAN (2:54)
My body used to be, A big stack of three spheres, I smoked a corn cob pipe, For years and years and years. Then suddenly things changed, I tried to get in shape, My scarf fit better, Calories melted away. I’m the Abdominal Snowman, Check out my ripped physique. Move over Frosty, You flabby pipsqueak. Got a washboard stomach, And abs of stainless steel, I'm a lean snow machine, All I have in excess is snowman sex appeal. Some snow folk are jealous, They all claim I’m vain, But catch my reflection, No way you look away.

CRACK THE CODE (2:28)
Presents are wrapped, Under the tree, But without any names, which are for me? No name on the box, Checked under the bow, No gift tag just a, Mysterious code. Book Cipher, Condi, Morse Code, or ASCII, Binary, atbash, Oh what could it be? 00111001. Guessing what’s inside, And who it’s for, Is more fun than the gift, Let’s all crack the code. A series of numbers, What does it mean? Is wrapping paper, The key to the thing? Secret codes on gifts, You should play too. A holiday tradition, And it's our gift to you. ZYVHQ BXEZOZURX FPP. Guessing what’s inside, And who it’s for, Is more fun than the gift, Let’s all crack the code.

DECK THE HALLS (1:41)
Deck the halls with boughs of holly, Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la, 'Tis the season to be jolly, Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la, Don we now our gay apparel, Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la, Troll the ancient Yule-tide carol, Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la. See the blazing Yule before us, Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la, Strike the harp and join the chorus, Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la, Follow me in merry measure, Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la, While I tell of Yule-tide treasure, Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la. Fast away the old year passes, Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la, Hail the new year, lads and lasses, Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la, Sing we joyous, all together, Fa-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la, Heedless of the wind and weather, Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.

DECORATE THE CHRISTMAS TREE (3:19)
Decorate the Christmas tree, With whatever we have on hand, Decorate the Christmas tree, It will surely come out grand. Macaroni picture frame, That we made as kids, Loads of blinking Christmas lights, A taxidermy squid. Construction paper snowflakes, Receipts for platform shoes, Hot dog tongs, remote controls, an old tub of fish food. Decorate the Christmas tree, With whatever we have on hand, Decorate the Christmas tree, It will surely come out grand. A Darth Vader action figure, Spreading Christmas cheer, An ancient samurai sword, Just half of a reindeer. A custom photo mouse pad, Fistfuls of Play Doh, Werewolf gloves from Halloween, Sour cream fake snow. Decorate the Christmas tree, With whatever we have on hand, Decorate the Christmas tree, It will surely come out grand. Hang it wherever you want, But please just not right there.

JINGLE BELLS (1:19)
Dashing through the snow, In a one-horse open sleigh, O'er the fields we go, Laughing all the way. Bells on bob tail ring, Making spirits bright, What fun it is to ride and sing, A sleighing song tonight. Jingle bells, jingle bells, Jingle all the way. Oh, what fun it is to ride, In a one-horse open sleigh, hey.

JUST BUY A GIFT CARD (1:59)
Gift cards for chocolate sweets, and lean cuts of meat. Gift cards for loud yoga pants, and carnivorous plants. Need a gift, to show you care? Out of ideas? No need to despair. Just buy a gift card. Gift cards for pottery class, and stacks of flap jacks. Gift cards for lemonade, and windshield sunshades. Need a gift, to show you care? Out of ideas? No need to despair. Just buy a gift card.

Techno-human combo, Satanic Puppeteer Orchestra’s new EP proves what many have only suspected – that a trip to the supermarket with Professor B. Miller and his robot sidekick, SPO-20, is waaaaay more fun than without.

First, allow me to point out that this may be the most practical record you’ve ever purchased. Buy now – Save Time AND Money! It comes complete with shopping list, price check reminder and guidance in answering one of life’s eternal questions: “Paper or Plastic?” Watch out Pinterest, the ideas that humans will get from this EP are numerous – Spray-on Water Skis, Cherry-Menthol Doritos, or throwing a birthday party surreptitiously IN a grocery store, just to mention a few.

But make no mistake – “P.Orch” (as they’re known to diehard fans) have a dark side too. In their universe even a shopping spree can have its share of harrowing moments. Witness the EP’s brutal opening salvo, “Silly rabbit, the other white meat.” Or, in “Paper or Plastic?” where you can almost hear the vocalist seething as he spits out the words, “I don’t need either!” The imparting of hard-won wisdom is another bonus as Expiration Dates are dealt with conclusively:

It's been here for oh so long / the fruit changed and evolved / It has achieved sentience / Meet my pear, his name is Paul.

Musically speaking, what we have here are eight songs in 19:00, including one instrumental. A wonderfully rhythmic, smart and fun collection of electronica that references everything from Devo and the B-52s to the dry humor and monotone vocal delivery of Lambchop. The songs run from the heavy metal “Price Check” (as per Prof B, “easily the most rockin' song we've ever written”) to the sinister “Birthday Party” (“It's probably the first – and maybe last – use of party horns as instruments in a song. Finding ones with just the right tone was quite an adventure, but explaining to the people at the party store why we needed so many different kinds of blower horns was even better”). And if you listen closely to “Shopping List,” the music is built around a vintage Optigan loop that was out of tune and wonky (in a good way!).

That’s all for now. If you enjoy this EP half as much as I, then it’s safe to say I like it twice as much as you. And I hope this finds you well. Me? I’m off to the supermarket to pick up a keychain shaped like Winston Churchill’s head!

PETER JESPERSON
Twin/Tone Records Co-Founder
Former Replacements Manager
North Hollywood, CA
Fall 2018

JINGLE (2:36)
Silly rabbit, The other white meat, Taste the feeling, The San Francisco treat, Melts in your mouth not in your hands, The Breakfast of Champions, No more tears, Gimme a break, It has to be good, They're gggrreat. It keeps going and going and going. Can't remember anything, but that’s a jingle I can’t forget. You can’t beat the real thing. Never let them see you sweat. Sorry Charlie, It's a honey of an O, 57 varieties, Taste the rainbow, It's what's for dinner, Magically delicious, The quicker picker upper, A totally organic experience. Dangerously cheesy, Choosy moms choose, It's kid tested and mother approved. It keeps going and going and going. Can't remember anything, but that’s a jingle I can’t forget. You can’t beat the real thing. Never let them see you sweat.

SHOPPING LIST (2:18)
A gallon of milk, A loaf of bread, A key chain shaped like Winston Churchill's head. Popsicles, Microwave dinners, An archery kit for elderly beginners. You need a shopping list, Whoa oh oh, So you don't forget what you should get. Paper towels, A bag of ice, An escalator made for mice. Frozen pizza, Super glue, Spray-on water skis, Possum shampoo. You need a shopping list, Whoa oh oh, So you don't forget what you should get.

SHELF SPACE (2:31)
Jalapeño Doritos, Chocolate Chip Doritos, Mountain Dew Doritos, Mint Toothpaste Doritos. It doesn't matter if they do well. They were never designed to sell. They just exist to take up shelf space. Rows of flavors based on a dare. If no one buys them, they don’t care. They just exist to take up shelf space. Watermelon Doritos, Shrimp Scampi Doritos, Birthday Cake Doritos, Cherry-Menthol Doritos. It doesn't matter if they do well. They were never designed to sell. They just exist to take up shelf space. Rows of flavors based on a dare. If no one buys them, they don’t care. They just exist to take up shelf space.

EXPIRATION DATE (2:23)
I took a look at the bread, it was the wrong shade of green. Think it was crawling a little, that's not my kind of cuisine. Unless you have some kind of way to travel back in time, I bet the milk went bad back in 1989. Once you get home it is way too late. Did you check the expiration date? Did you check the expiration date? Did you check the expiration date? It's been here for oh so long, the fruit changed and evolved. It has achieved sentience. Meet my pear, his name is Paul. The phrase overripe is hype, means its already decayed. Sell by, best by, best before... not falling for it no way. Once you get home it is way too late. Did you check the expiration date? Did you check the expiration date? Did you check the expiration date?

PRICE CHECK (2:03)
Cashier on the intercom, don't worry sir, it won't be long. We're gonna need a price check. We're gonna need a price check. Technology failed me when they scanned the UPC. We're gonna need a price check. We're gonna need a price check. Anger on everyone's face. Want to find a hiding place. We're gonna need a price check. We're gonna need a price check. A price check, a price check, we're gonna need a price check. A price check, a price check, we're gonna need a price check. A price check, a price check, we're gonna need a price check. Patrons chanting “Put it back!” Feeling like I’m under attack. We're gonna need a price check. We're gonna need a price check. A price check, a price check, we're gonna need a price check. A price check, a price check, we're gonna need a price check.

PAPER OR PLASTIC? (2:21)
No bags for me at the grocery store. I'll just carry stuff out, it's no big chore. No bags for me, these dozen soup cans stack super snugly... six in each hand. Paper or plastic? I don't need either. Paper or plastic? I don't need either. No bags for me, not going that far. Gonna roll the fruit out to my car. No bags for me, slip the pie down my shirt. Hope my body heat won't melt tonight's dessert. Paper or plastic? I don't need either. Paper or plastic? I don't need either. Forgot my canvas bags, not sure where they are. Maybe at my house or in the trunk of my car. Stack 'em up pile 'em high, hope they don't drop. My audition for the circus every time I shop. Paper or plastic? I don't need either. Paper or plastic? I don't need either.

BIRTHDAY PARTY (2:35)
There aren’t a lot of seats, but they are open really late. There’s plenty of beverages, and tons and tons of cake. Produce rainstorms, and a shopping cart race. Entertainment is covered, we’ll have the run of the place. Birthday party at the grocery store. Birthday pa-pa-party at the grocery store. Birthday party at the grocery store. Birthday pa-pa-party at the grocery store. Sent out some invitations, meet by the Twinkie display. Just hop on the intercom to sing me happy birthday. They’ve got candles and balloons. No presents, please. We might get kicked out, but hey it’s all free. Birthday party at the grocery store. Birthday pa-pa-party at the grocery store. Birthday party at the grocery store. Birthday pa-pa-party at the grocery store.

JINGLE MUZAK (1:51)
[Instrumental]