Happy 2009 from the Committee to Re-instate ‘Cats’ as the Hip Synonym for ‘Dude,’ and ‘Man’ and What Have You.

Anyway, cats, with the passing of another unit of time in the arbitrary way by which we measure our finite lives in this particular universe we, like most of you, turn to thoughts of hopes and dreams for 2009, the Year of the Ox (ox being the Chinese calendar animal alter ego of our own Steve Fouchard, incidentally. Boosh!).

In that spirit, here’s our variation on the ubiquitous end of the year list tradition.

What sucked: Ross’s computer blew up, interrupting progress toward releasing our second album and slowing down our ambitious plan to release two new singles each week in addition.

What doesn’t: We say ‘slowed’ because the ace up our sleeves was Steve’s digital 8-track. With it, we were able to continue indulging our recording jones (albeit while having to settle for the decidedly inferior drum sounds provided by Steve’s guitar effects processor/tuner) and release another couple of albums worth of singles via this page. Plus, said computer is expected to be fully up and running this week with some new paint and gaffer tape, and our sophomore album intact.

What sucked: Truth is, the album was recorded twice. The first time over several months and two different apartments with just Steve and Ross, as was the case with the first. Around February we had an opportunity to record the full band for the first time. Unfortunately, we had lost both our original bass player and his first replacement by this time but decided to go ahead anyway, with Ross and Steve overdubbing bass lines. Well, turns out not having any of that beautiful bottom end to play along with and trying to record all those songs (and a few more; we are prolific cats) over a single weekend made for performances that we couldn’t live with. Ross sang hisself raw. Plus, not too long after, we had the good fortune of landing our current bass player who has upped our game.

What doesn’t: Well, again, our TCA II demos are intact (and sounding pretty good after months of not listening to them, if we do say so), so there are worse plan Bs than just releasing them instead. Plus, it’s quite likely that we’ll be doing a proper band recording of some of the mountain of songs we’ve produced in addition to the record before too long. With a solid lineup in place and newly acquired wisdom on the benefits of the short-player format, we’re confident that our tardiness will be more than made up for in ‘09. And our bass player, Andria, rules.

What sucked: The stranglehold of needlessly large indie ‘rock’ bands in the Arcade Fire vein on the mass consciousness continued unabated through last year contributing, no doubt, to such gross injustices as The Secret Machines playing to a virtually empty house at Babylon in November.

What didn’t: The Secret Machines still played like it was a stadium (and brought a light show suited to one). Singer/bassist/keyboardist Brandon Curtis was also generous with his time afterwards, even saying that Arcade Fire, for all their other possible merits, really need a rhythm section. Quote of the night goes to the guy at the back who shouted: ‘Dude, your drummer rules.’ Welcome to the party, friend. Plus, the Machines' self-titled third album, released in October, was far and away the best of the year. Kiss our asses, Pitchfork nation; those dorks called it 'prog.'

Until next time.