I'd figured any writing I'd do about my summer and winter in the barn on Lake Stickney would be done at a remove of at least ten years, meaning this sentence and whatever is about to follow is about six years premature. The trouble considering the recent past is that I am still essentially that person about whom I write. The kid has not yet congealed into a goofy cliche, and so any truly insightful revelations are best kept in the basement, so that they don't throw the present illusion too badly out of whack. Self-revelation can be a day-to-day game, but one rarely played by those with anything to say.

Jesus. What a douchebag. Okay, so I have always been pretty pleased that The Horsefaced Boys (self-titled, I suppose) isn't fully available on the BR website (Ed: No longer true). It's been that way for as long as it's been listed there, but I never brought it up with Charles. Couple of reasons for this. The first is that I would have had to find some fault with the beautiful thing which Charles has created and maintained with such inexplicable faith and skill. The other part is that I don't want just anybody listening to it.

Listening to it, alone in my apartment just now, I got up to go turn the volume down.

Ultimately, I feel there is something poisonous about this record. It is ahead of its time, ahead fifty years to when half the people are gone and the only birds left are crows and sparrows.

Which is not to say that it isn't a great recording. Basically on that day I was trying to make a Frogs record (I'd just seen them or something) and Andrew I don't think has ever listened to a Frogs record. So, interesting mix right there. Andrew doesn't even do a funny voice in the course of the whole thing, I think.

So anyway, I do this sort of standup-comic thing mostly, and Drew emotes with his reasonably beautiful voice. We do some standard noodling for the first track, then it's off to funnytown! First off it's a couple of BR "standards," starting with "Survivor." I guess I'm pretty funny on this one; you tell me. I do get in a very funny line: "He was the survivor / of a condominium fire." I'm not sure why that's funny, which suggests that it really is.

Whoa, almost too soon now comes "Stranger," which has been covered by others and probably shall echo all the way down to final days of Man. Which isn't bad, considering I started (I think) with this Laurie Anderson song in my head and immediately started making up a bunch of shit. Drew's playing is really excellent here, a perfect structure that makes all else possible.

And then, the one. "You Don't Love Me," the "Alone Again or…" of BR, vacuum-sealed for the future people sitting around at their dial-ups surrounded by shit and wrappers. This is Drew's composition, written about a real person (though hopefully never sung to them.) Anyway, the less said the better. Just imperfect enough to be you-know-what.

"Hippie Girl" is really good, too. Oh shit, I hadn't heard this for a while! This is nuts! This was probably the genesis of "It's gonna be great!" which was the highly localized catch phrase for a while there. Let's bring it back! "I try not to think about those days…" the fat guy sings. A moment of real pathos!

The rest is probably just for the academics. Somebody has the brilliant idea of giving me the guitar and we're way back down in the sludge again. Drew's singing is really good but he doesn't have much to hang it on with my playing as weak as it is. See it's all my fault! That's my cat, Kim, freaking out, though. The growling goes on for a long time but manages to stay interesting. Look to the animals!

Capped by the only Frogs/Martin Sexton medley in existence, for those of you who watched all the credits.