Hello for the last time, dTunes readers! Kauza here again, giving you one last band to listen to before I fade into the deep, dark realm of actually writing about videogames on a videogame site. I’m scared to go back, mommy. I heard that trolls live there.

I’ll try to man up, though. We can get through this together, but I’m going to need your attention, a can of Raid, and no fewer than six ice cream cookie sandwiches arranged in an aesthetically pleasing flower pattern. Preferably with M&Ms or little pineapple chunks. Actually, six pineapples would probably be a lot more fun. Ooh, let’s make it ten so we can play pineapple bowling. With a grapefruit. We can make a pineapple grapefruit smoothie afterwards and dip our ice cream cookie sandwiches into them.

Yeah, I don’t know what the hell that was all about either. But, hell, it’s Friday, and I’m a little punch-drunk, and maybe a little real-drunk (at work), so expect this post to be a little more…entertaining…than the others. Even if you don’t like the music, I maybe you’ll like this insanely absurd post. Also, why in god’s name do I keep typing absurb? And why, when I actually tried to type absurb, did I type abrub?

By the way, if you were to, just hypothetically, want to somehow fasten a tobacco pipe into the mouth of a life-sized stuffed dog, how would you go about it? Serious question.

Sieges Even

Bands die every day. Whether it’s the shitty garage band that breaks up after little Billy’s dad get transferred to a new state or the massive rock star that finally overdoses of every drug all at once at the age of 77, the shelf life of all bands is limited.

Such was the case for Sieges Even, a band that formed officially in 1985 in Germany. The band had a pretty respectable career, playing up until 1997. I’d say that twelve years together is pretty damn good, especially compared to a lot of other independent bands of the time that recorded one album and then disappeared for good. Then one must consider all of those bands that suck. Once you’ve done that, I’ll see you back here in, say, six years?

At this point, you might be thinking “What in Bill and Ted’s name does Sieges Even mean?” I’d ask you to kindly jog on, as I have no clue. They’re German, so chances are they thought it meant something really awesome. Maybe “Siegeseven” kind of sounds like the German word for pineapple upside-down cake.

Anyway, back to the story. Oh, you thought it was over? Well, you just got fooled, fool. Indeed, this story is only beginning. The band did break up, disappear, and become utterly forgotten all in 1997. In 2005, however, an independent label called InsideOut Music announced that they would be releasing a new Sieges even album. Most people said, “The fuck?” Some said, “Uh, what?” And others proclaimed “OH YEAH BABY,” to which a separate group of others asked, “Wait, really,” and immediately received the response from Others Group One, “Shit no, WTF is this?” I was either in the first or second group, but I was also suffering from a rattlesnake bite at the time, so I can’t be sure.

With a freshly amputated leg frozen and stuffed into my messenger bag, I set out to the local record store, Amazon.com. As I browsed its 172,000 aisles, I saw a naked baby’s ass. Weird, I thought. Why is a naked baby here? Soon afterwards, I came across this album cover:



It was called “The Art of Navigating by the Stars,” which is apparently how airplanes know which way to go when they’re flying. The band was Sieges Even, which we’ve already agreed is German for “sentient mayonnaise.”

“Hey, I remember that name,” I said, looking down at my remaining stump of a leg. “I guess the fact that I was high off of rattlesnake venom at the time means that I should give this band a serious listen.”

I’m glad that I did. What I found behind the behind of the baby was a compact disc with songs on it. In those songs were instruments and singing people. Inside those instruments and singing people were organs, water, metal, atoms, molecules, and a lot of other extremely tiny things. But most importantly, there was magic. The seriously magical kind.

Could it be? A band of dudes that played their instruments in creative and incredibly impressive ways? A bunch of songs with intelligent lyrics? A band kind of like Rush but without Geddy Lee’s castration-by-fondue-pot voice? And, yeah, I like Rush, and I happen to be able to empathize with Geddy’s situation. I mean, can you imagine?

Anyway, I was totally enthralled. I lay in my bed, pants on the floor, slowly sliding the throbbing liner notes out of their smooth, warm case. I gently fingered through the pages, staring longingly into the dilated pupils of the lyrics as my headphones whispered my wildest fantasies into my ears. After an impressive 64 minutes, the disc finally reached its climax before coming to rest by my side. Things got a little weird when it asked if it could borrow my toothbrush, and I don’t know what the hell it was doing in the bathroom for twenty-eight minutes.

We shared our love in this way many times over the next few months, sometimes as many as five times a day. Our affair continued for another two years, and my affection only grew stronger. I was in love.

In 2007, I was approached with a proposition. “The Art of Navigating by the Stars” wanted to take our relationship to the next level. At first, I didn’t know what that meant. That is, until I saw this:



“This is Paramount,” she said. “She’s new in town. You should, you know…show her around.”

“Oh my god,” I thought. “Polygamy? Can I handle that? Can I really be with them both?”

I was nervous, sure, but we shared our first night together shortly afterward. Now, it’s natural for people to feel a little…shall we day, disappointed…with a first time like this, especially when my expectations had been raised to such an incredible level by my previous lover. So, yeah, maybe I was a bit hard on the old girl, but she just didn’t give it to me in the same way. I was let down.

Like a fine aged cheese – yet considerably less smelly – our times together got better and better. I listened more closely to her purring, paid more attention to the fine details of her technique, and, suddenly, things began to click between us. All along, she had been giving me just what I wanted, but I was too stupid to realize it. Other than the times that she brought Martin Luther King Jr. into bed with us*, I was finally able to connect with her.

*There’s a song called “Mounting Castles in the Blood-Red Sky” that’s basically an instrumental with the “I Have a Dream” speech playing over it.

Today, our love continues. I continue to switch off between my two partners, bedding one of them one day, and throwing down with the other the next. And they still both manage to please me in new ways every time.

Now, as long as you promise to treat them well, I want to allow you to take a test ride of these two lovely discs. Steak dinners and shit. And wear a condom. Sure, their complex sexual techniques might not be your thing, but give them a chance. You might enjoy this dance.

Screen name: The Art of Navigating by the Stars
Age: 4
Turn ons:

The Weight


The Lonely Views of Condors


To The Ones Who Have Failed


Styx


Screen name: Paramount
Age: 2
Turn ons:

When Alpha and Omega Collide


Tidal


Bridge to the Divine


Leftovers


Now that you’ve gone and made me all jealous, I hope that you enjoyed your time with these two beautiful barmaids. Did the singing telegram arrive at the hotel room? I told him to bring frosted oatmeal cookies, but the lady on the phone wasn’t so sure that they could do that. I told her that she was a complete and utter mentirosa, as I could smell oatmeal and frosting on her breath. Come to think of it…the singing telegraph probably never showed up.

Either way, I’m sorry that your relationship must now end, just as yours and mine is about to. Yes, friends, this is my last day on this Earth that they call dTunes, and now that I’ve bowled with pineapples and a grapefruit, danced with a skeleton (or, at least, with a wooden Halloween decoration), and jumped out of a parked plane, I’m ready to pass onto the next world. Of course, my vicious murder of a hitchhiker when I was seven most certainly means that I’m going to hell, so, well, see you all in the cblogs!

Kauza