On June 4-6 we're heading to Louisville, KY to record some songs at Headbanging Kill Your Mama Music with the illustrious Chris Owens of Lords!
A track from this recording will go on what is sure to be the greatest St Louis compilation album of our time. More on that a little later...
Dirk: Look, man, all we need is the tapes, all right?
Record Producer: No, you don't get the tapes until you've paid.
Dirk: In our situation, that doesn't make any fucking sense.
Reed Rothchild: Look, we can not pay for the tapes, unless we take the tapes to the record company, and get paid.
Dirk: Hello? Exactly.
Record Producer: That's not an MP, that's a YP, your problem. Come up with the money, or forget it.
Reed Rothchild: Okay, now you're talking above my head. I don't know all of this industry jargon, YP, MP. All I know is that I can't get a record contract, we cannot get a record contract unless we take those tapes to the record company. And granted, the tapes themselves are a uh um oh, you own them, all right, but the magic that is on those tapes. That fucking heart and soul that we put onto those tapes, that is ours and you don't own that. Now I need to take that magic and get it over the record company. And they're waiting for us, we were supposed to be there a half hour ago. We look like assholes, man.
Dirk: Let me explain to him in simple arithmetic. One, two three! Because you don't fuckin' get it, Burt! You give us the tapes. We get the record contract. We come back and give you your fuckin' money. Have you heard the tapes? Have you even heard them? We're guaranteed a record deal. Our stuff is that good!
Record Producer: Now I get it. Now I understand. You want it to happen... but it's not going to happen. Because it's a Catch-22.
Dirk: What the fuck does that mean? What is a Catch-22, Burt?
Record Producer: Catch-22, gentleman. Think about it.
[
pause]
Dirk: You know what I'm thinking about, man? I'm thinking about kicking some fuckin' ass!