A Conversation With Malan

Hello guys my name is Malan and I am from THE FUTURE. That is right, I came a long way to get here so listen up if you are even capable of hearing hard facts. My name is the name Alan with the letter M preceding it. I’ve just told you the way to remember it and also how to pronounce it. Excuses that fly will be few indeed for ignorance of my name, knowing as you do I assume the name Alan, probably many of you more intimately than you wish to discuss here today. Here is something you WILL wish to discuss: the year 2000. How many of you are wondering what the hell it will be like? Every last one of you. I do not have to count hands to grasp that figure. Well if you guessed that you are in the right place to learn the secrets of this far distant future and that I am the person who is going to personally thrash these mysteries on your behalf then you guessed with precision and accuracy bound up into one. I see that a few of your are wearing beards. Let me tell you that in the year 2000 every single person in the world and many in space will be wearing beards. And not by choice. For now I will choose not to elaborate, because there is too much material to get through and probably not that much time before I am summoned back to my era away from this unwieldy era of the past via one of four common beaming technologies: Anular, Granular, Physical (Physical Beaming), and Companular, which is used for two people. What else is there to tell you? Well, first off, sandwiches are a thing of the past in the future. In the future we DO NOT EAT sandwiches. We instead eat delicious soups crafted to taste and remind of sandwiches. We do this because sandwich batter has become scant and also can be nosed out by wolves which play an unpleasant role in elements of the future including whether man can safely enter the outdoors. “Haven’t we tamed wolves by the year 2000?” The answer is no. Men have turned their hair white trying in vain. The fact is that some things do not change. We have not tamed wolves, we have not overcome paranoia, and we have not and will never fly to the moon. This last point has however finally been proven mathematically so that we can stop wasting valuable man-energy in vain attempts. A notorious mathematician called Optimus Prime will by the year 2000 have discovered using an understanding of angles and math that the moon is hundreds of trillions of light-years away from earth but is awesomely large, accounting for the fact that it can be seen with the naked eye and even at night.
Nah, I’m just fuckin with ya.

Fledglings, Yes, we've been on

Fledglings,
Yes, we’ve been on tour in the UK, and, yes, we’ve been ignoring the website, and, yes, we’ve been representing the United States with the bearing and dignity that one would expect of a bunch of toddlers who have been armed with amplifiers and an almost unquenchable thirst for the more alcoholic of the world’s beverages. We will, of course, deliver a thoroughly saturated report on this little whirlwind tour of ours once we’ve set foot on American soil and finally stopped sobbing with relief. Because, you see: this is tiring, this swooping around England like some kind of tripartite incarnation of Santa Claus, bestowing our musical gifts ‘pon the Brits, the beautiful Brits, their eyes aglow with the sort of wonder that we, the members of We Are Scientists, haven’t known since 12th grade health class, when the anatomical differences between males and females were finally made at least moderately clear (we are burdened, still, with so, so many questions). In any case, we know it’s time to go home, because Natalie – our tour manager and overseer and best friend in all of Britain – clearly hates us now and wants to see us either shipped off to the States or investigated, cranially, with mallets.
But, yes, guys, the tour has been a startling success, and we’ve basically been wanting to kiss everybody over here full on the lips, so: thanks England. Thanks for Reading and Leeds festivals, which were the musical equivalent of a full-body massage, but, like a full-body massage that actually gets *inside* the body and flips all kinds of excruciatingly mind-blowing orgasm buttons, and also you’re drunk. And thanks for coming to the shows in numbers heretofore unseen by these here We Are Scientists, kids congregating like Romero-style zombies who have finally breached the fortified walls of the last human stronghold, pouring into every WAS-housing venue and dancing a macabre hipster zombie dance. And, especially, thanks for hooking us up with the inimitable Roland Shanks, a band for whom our love is overflowing, literally, onto our shoes. Expect a full detailed report on these fellows in the near future, when we’ll get into the gritty details regarding why, since the RS boys got on board, our tour has had to be renamed “Doggin’ ‘n’ Froggin’ in the UK”. It gets dirty.