It’s College Radio Day (like two weeks ago)!

ACOUSTIC LOVERS: We donated a very pleasant, unreleased acoustic recording of “After Hours” to “College Radio Day: The Album” — that’s right, it’s not just a day! It’s an album named after a day, that got released on the very day it was named after! It’s a good album, and the proceeds go to support college radio-related causes, so for once you can make your sick habit of purchasing music feel slightly less shameful.

Our track, you oughtta know, is only available on the physical version of the album and on the the digital version being sold at Amoeba’s new music site.


Not just a day but an album *named after a day.*

It’s the first day of Autumn! (On some planet.)

Let’s break a bad habit today! We have a bad habit of limiting our communication with you, the fan pool, to moments when we want to sell you something. Consider our most recent tweet (as of this writing): “PNIS NLRGMENT PiLL THAT duz WRK—HERE: [redacted].” Or the one before that: “Anyone want to buy a rubber band for 5 dollars?” Or our last news post on this very website, published after we got a line on some cheap Canadian dogs we were planning to import and then resell to you at a breadwinning mark-up. And do you want to know the saddest part? There were never any engorgement pills! There was never a rubber band! I mean presumably we could have found one had anybody responded to the offer, but it’s not like we had one sitting in a decorative box, ready to ship, as implied in that tweet. As for the Canadian dogs, well, they were real enough, we suppose (many of their snapshots are still on our fridge), but shouldn’t we be spending our time making more, better music? Aren’t we a band, for chrissakes, not some fly-by-night internet mini-mall? The answer of course is yes, by god, we are a band, and so making more/better music has become, in the hours since our last tweet and hopefully for many months to come, our absolute focus. Yes, we’re three guys, and guys are renowned for thinking about their dicks all the time, but in the current environment over here we’re actually — believe it or not — giving more thought to music-making than to our Jason Priestly’s, if you’ll permit us the use of an understandably unpopular euphemism. Yes, we’ve once again drilled down hard into the music-making process, and once again found it to our liking, less shame-inducing than pill sales, certainly. Once again, the songs are too hot to touch, which has us daily thanking Crom (our god) that they are not physical objects that ever need to be handled, really, just songs. We’ve started thinking about artwork, and an album title, and whether to use little blood splats or little bullet holes in place of all the o’s in the song titles, and which large corporations to thank in the acknowledgments — nearly all of them have played a significant role! In other words, for those of you who’ve been literally holding your breath for the next record, there is a chance you’ll survive. Not a good chance, no, but breath-holding for any amount of time over about a week carries plenty of inherent risk, and you must surely have known that the day you sealed your lips and pinched your nose.

What else is going on?

  1. Well, we’re watching the runup to the presidential election closely, of course, and mastering new sports.
  2. We’re working on an unsolicited ad campaign for Coors Light Alcohol, one of our favorite alcohols, an alcohol that could benefit from a fresh marketing approach, we think.
  3. We’re trying to find a time this month to go to all the big New York-area haunted houses, because we like to scream and rarely find the right situation for that.
  4. We’re working on a new written piece about actor Josh Lucas, who recently started following us on Twitter after noticing a 2006 free-form essay we wrote that mentions him 40 times.
  5. We’re doing this kinda cool competition sponsored by a hotel where a bunch of bands in Abu Dhabi and Brussels and London are having music fights, and the winner gets flown to London to record under our watchful scrutiny, and then we all play a show together. (Yes, on the surface it seems like the prize isn’t as valuable if a London band ends up winning, but consider that they won’t be all tired out from the flight, and will therefore be able to take full advantage of our tutelage — and our tutelage is essentially priceless.)
  6. Finally, but definitely way more important than our Coors Light commercial: Our own Andy Burrows is about to drop another solo record onto the marketplace, and we’re in a position to tell you that it’s a goddamn good one. We’re “in a position” to tell you this because, frankly, one of us is Andy Burrows, so all of us — including the other two — get to listen to the record early. Some of us, Keith for example, even played on the thing. It’s called “Company,” this record, and it comes out October 22nd, and you can listen to some of it here, plus see a music video featuring pretty ladies and sinister men, plus see a bunch of photos of Andy that don’t have Chris or Keith in them, if that’s the sort of thing you’re into. (They are very nice.)

Oh hey, and by the way, we’ve resumed giving advice. If you want some, email us at advice[at]

What our October is looking like.

Critter Companions, Purple Streaks, and Dating Problems

I am thinking of getting a new critter companion (my rat has become a crack addict and my cat got eaten by a fox) which do you think will be better to share my life with:a raven called Nero or a Human Botfly named Jenkins?Which do you think would come across more intimidating and less attractive/sexually inticing to cannibals? If you have trouble answering the previous mind-blowing question,which would put you off of eating my flesh more?

Thank you and good night,

Hey, Twemmy. It sounds like what you’re really wondering is how to avoid meeting your end, bit by bit, on the tip of a cannibal’s fork, or between the tips of a cannibal’s chopsticks, or stewing around in a cannibal’s cauldron – stewing, needless to say, in your own juices. Welcome, Twemmy, to a strange old thing called Life. All creatures, from botflies to ravens to rats, spend their days bathed in fear of same-species consumption – what George Bush Jr first called “cannonball-ism.” You are neither special nor new. And yet, be comforted that your fear is not irrational. Why, Andy has a young dog – not still a puppy, but not yet a hound – named Rufus, who has a hard time thinking about anything other than theoretical scenarios in which he is devoured by other dogs. We know this because we have successfully connected his thoughts to a TV!

Hello, great men of science.

My name is Lily, and I would like some advice. I just dyed my hair purple (Just a small bit in the back and few streaks up near the front.) What color do you suggest I dye it next?

Hi, Lily. First of all, Congratulations. You dyed your Hair, You say? That’s really great. Purple, too! Just great. And it sounds like You successfully marshaled Restraint and kept the Dye Job classy — a Little in the Back, and a few Streaks up Front, if Memory serves. No mean Feat, Moderation being a Virtue rarely within easy Reach to Those who set off down the Hair Color Path. So, again, Congratulations!

And now, though, you’d like to know what Color to use next? Not so fast, Lily. No so flippin’ fast. What’s your Rush? Are you living with a terminal Illness? Has your Doctor given you three Months to live? If so and you simply neglected to mention It, then by all means: On to the next Shade! Hustle to the next Hue! If, on the other Hand, you have Reason to expect that a nice, full Life lies ahead of You, then We implore You: calm Thyself. Enjoy your purple Streaks. Take Them out on the Town. Take Them to Prom. Book Passage for a Year at Sea, and bring your Wine-dark Stripes with You!

There is a Reason, Lily, that Humankind’s Stores of Hair Dye are running desperately low. It is the fickle, flip-flopping Whimsy of hairy young Women with little or no Sense of Color Commitment. Don’t join their Ranks, Lily! Save your Streaks till Marriage, at least!

Dear guys,
I have been very unlucky with the ladies for the last year. I left my ex cause she was crazy, after that I have not been able to find a decent nor sane girl after wards. And since you guys seems to have the best luck in finding some ladies I was wondering if you can help me. On a side note I’ll be seeing you at Maxwells, already have my ticket.


Hi, Dimo. First of all, sorry for the tardiness of this reply. Despite your query having been sent in January of 2010, we’re going to push forward under the assumption that you’re STILL having serious lady problems, that they’ve been a brutal plague on all of your adult years. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem like the kind of fellow who, try as he might, just can’t get it right with girls. So here are a coupla tips from a coupla dudes who, as you mention in your letter, “have the best luck in finding some ladies”:

– BUY THAT LADY A CAR. Old-fashioned but true: girls like guys who have “serious money.” Show her you have serious money by buying her a car. “The first time I see her?” Yes! Before some other guy does! Drive her new car right through the facade of the bar where she’s hanging out to make a strong “money don’t matter” impression.

– DEMONSTRATE AWARENESS OF CURRENT EVENTS. Women like guys who are keyed in to the world around them. It shows you’re not super-self-obsessed. It shows that although you may well have a name for your penis, you aren’t very strict about people using it. Say, “It’s amazing how much things are happen in a world all day according to some newspapers I like!” Got her.

– DANCE WITH HER. Dancing is a way of telegraphing what kind of person you are physically. Are you rhythmic? Strong? Timid? Deceptive? It will come across in your dancing. Learn to move as many parts of your body as you can, as fast as possible, when dancing. This will show that you have strong morals.

– LIAM NEESON. Find a way of getting into a discussion about “favorite actors.” Tell her yours is Liam Neeson. Tell her you think he has a beautiful spirit. Tell her you met him once and he talked for hours about his childhood, about his father, and growing up in Ireland in the 1960’s, and getting shit from the other kids because his home was constructed from whale muscle.

And just like that, Dimo, you’ll find yourself having flirtatious, promising exchanges with intelligent, funny ladies who are both decent and sane. From there, good friend, it’s up to you.

Submit your advice requests to advice[at] We will get back to you within a couple of years.