The Remarkable Cholmondley Chute System

Happy Hump Day everyone...hopefully your humping is going well.

We are on the home stretch for the Philosophy Revealed series, or Phil Rev, if you prefer to use a much cooler Generation Z slang-shortening style, like when people say My Chem, or 'anic at the Disco.

So without further mon dieu...

I had absolutely nothing to do with this track. Regretfully.

This is what happens when you have two guitar players who are brilliant in their own right, working together late at night, under a mountain of pedals and couch cushion forts, while an oblivious singer wiles away the midnight oil playing Tumblebugs on the floor above. This is what happens when you let guitarists grab you by the hand and convince you that one can't EVER possibly listen to too much Robert Fripp and The Orb.


The Bridge.

We knew that the album would require a segue piece, so to speak. A short bit that would say, "And now, for the final act." I had a few things in mind but nothing concrete (one unmixed idea that didn't get used is up on the player), so when Eric said he had something he wanted to try, I said what the hell.

The Remarkable Cholmondley Chute System (pronounced the British way, as chumley) is based on a part of Crime. See if you can tell which one. It's the noodly dream of a guitarist left to his own devices, as well as other devices made by Danelectro, Roland, and Digitech. This, one of my absolute favorite parts of the album, is yet another bout of subharmonic octave dropping during the length of this track. One could really rattle one's speakers with this one if one were so inclined. One could also possibly cure a fit of one's constipation if one really needed it.


Eric writing one for the laaaaadies….

Obviously, because there are no words, there is no story to tell, other than to say that in my grand scheme of things regarding my forthcoming book, The Remarkable Cholmondley Chute System is a snaking remnant of waste disposal convenience, a fossilized hollow worm of forgotten and soot-blackened modernity. As you listen to the track, you can probably visualize a slow camera crawl up the twisting, turning pipage weaving endlessly behind the rotted walls of an ancient building collapsing one brick at a time.


Bye Tickle!
Jonathon Christopher Newby of Appalachia