Brown Whörnet
Valamaranaro I had a freaky dream last night. I was sitting in a Twenties lounge with golden curtains and crisp linens, as a singer with greased-back hair belted out gibberish (“Schway”). Next thing I know, the crooner’s tracksuited and rapping to death metal (“Gobbalin”). Suddenly, everything backtracks at warp speed (“Valamaranaro”), and I’m in Germany. Dieter stands spotlighted in the middle of a packed discotheque, as he perfects the robot (“Dancing in Nightclub”). Alas, he asks no one to touch his monkey. Satisfied, Dieter polkas to Room 710, where all the women look like Mickey Rooney with braids (“Clay Is Gay”). A blinding Q-Beam shoots in the bar, and the gingham-dressed crowd rushes outside just in time to see a spacecraft docking for repairs. Thousands of grays spread over the vehicle like ants on a snow cone, and their extraterrestrial banging hypnotizes the chubby Germans (“The Untokening”). Dieter and I somersault down Sixth to escape, toppling frat boys like dominoes as horn players follow (“Boiled Carrots”). Unfortunately, a cyber cop halts our progress. He drags us to an empty warehouse (“Midnight at the Shoe Factory”), where in a flash the floor gives way, and the officer falls into darkness. After a few moments, a laser-shooting Transformer darts out of the hole. Dieter and I sprint until we reach the forest. As dawn breaks, we rejoice, realizing we’ve lost the robot (“Blon Jondell”). Was it a dream? Red River stalwarts Brown Whörnet should make a concept album just like that, except with a few actual songs thrown in, of course.
This article appears in November 5 • 2004.