On Bands And Bonds
Each incarnation of The Essential Penguins has, after a time, dissolved, but they were never really dissolved to begin with. In chemical terms, the bands were more suspensions than solutions. There would initially be the illusion of bonding and unification, but gradually this turbidity would settle out and separate into layers: typically Reggie Chamberlain-King and I distinct from the other members. There was no great acrimony or ill will, but simply a difference of intent. This may have been workable if some members did not care to express themselves through composition, but in an age when wearing one's heart on one's sleeve is considered merely accessorizing, that scenario is as unlikely as the Baudelaire siblings are unluckly.
Claire McGreevy, the songbird once caged and forced to sing melodies that were not her own, was therefore set free. Sad though it was, anything else would have been cruel. We were no doubt keeping her grounded and now she can reach heights at which we'd only suffer vertigo. Oddly, though, experiencing some breed of Stockholm syndrome I expect, she does on occasion return to visit us, and sing for us. Most recently, perhaps in the spirit of entente cordiale, she offered a rendition of a Lubricants tune we wrote. It was so sweet a performance that I think it only right to share it with the world.
C. McGreevy -- To Date You Is To Hate You
I now realise that when it comes to creative personalities, the direct democratic model only succeeds if everyone agrees, a very rare happening indeed, and it becomes less and less likely when numbers increase. On the other hand, I don't think I could survive working in a solo capacity -- at least for any great period -- in my eyes, it's comparable to drinking or dancing alone. Then there's the disconcerting propensity for solo artists, completely free from mediation, to become tediously obdurate megalomaniacs (you know who you are). It's fortunate, then, that C-K and I see eye to eye on much of everything... we are two tyrants who agree, I believe is how he puts it.
Claire McGreevy, the songbird once caged and forced to sing melodies that were not her own, was therefore set free. Sad though it was, anything else would have been cruel. We were no doubt keeping her grounded and now she can reach heights at which we'd only suffer vertigo. Oddly, though, experiencing some breed of Stockholm syndrome I expect, she does on occasion return to visit us, and sing for us. Most recently, perhaps in the spirit of entente cordiale, she offered a rendition of a Lubricants tune we wrote. It was so sweet a performance that I think it only right to share it with the world.
C. McGreevy -- To Date You Is To Hate You
I now realise that when it comes to creative personalities, the direct democratic model only succeeds if everyone agrees, a very rare happening indeed, and it becomes less and less likely when numbers increase. On the other hand, I don't think I could survive working in a solo capacity -- at least for any great period -- in my eyes, it's comparable to drinking or dancing alone. Then there's the disconcerting propensity for solo artists, completely free from mediation, to become tediously obdurate megalomaniacs (you know who you are). It's fortunate, then, that C-K and I see eye to eye on much of everything... we are two tyrants who agree, I believe is how he puts it.