As many know, Soundass had been discovered in the early 2000s by manager Klein Dedderman. The two members were living on a farm in the middle of a secluded isle making demo tapes to send to labels. Every label rejected these tapes before Klein brushed them up and brought them to America. Though they never received commercial success, the band's music spread like wildfire. Soon they were heralded as outsider auteurs--confused and mad geniuses.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been your father. Sorry, I meant to say, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here, father… son. I’ll tell you what, the only boy who could ever teach me, was the son of a preacher man. Coincidentally, I’m the father of a priest. Not you, of course… son. As an aside, in my youth I was born in the dusty town of Springfield. Just an aside. Set that aside for me, son.
Anyway, son, I mean father (perhaps you could even be my father’s friend… I don’t know), I’m here in this confessional-style booth to both confess and impress. Who am I impressing? Who am I impressing? What’s going on? The truth is, son, I’ve sinned. Dark and evil sins. The kind of sins that don’t come out in the wash. And I put it on “dry” for hours. And I know what you’re thinking, and yes, they’re stinky sins too. They stink so, so bad. Like old socks. Like bad old socks, that’s how bad they stink. Rot-style. Understood, baby?
So where was I? Oh right, I hadn’t started yet. Well I’m about to. Right… about… now. Before I get started, I just wanted to give you a little context, father. Wait… are you my dad? No matter (not to be confused with Family Matters… another point for the book. You could lose!) So listen, son—and, I can call you son, right? As I was saying, dearest father, I will also call you father by the way. How about I just call you “fun.” It’s sort of like father and son combined, yes Fun? Okay, from now on I’m calling you Fun. No more confusion, and we can move on, yes Fun?
Fun, let me begin and let me be clear, I’m a nasty sinner. I don’t sin pretty. Matter of fact, I don’t sin at all. It was all a huge misunderstanding. See, Fun, I’m a product of my environment. And with a producer like the environment, you’re looking at either a top 20 hit, or the biggest smash flop you’ve ever seen… or heard. You’re wondering what a smash flop is, yes Fun? Well I don’t have time to tell you, Fun. I must get to the sins. I’m not your high school sweetheart, I’m your father and you will respect me as such. You could lose! Hell, you’re halfway there already. This book is also like my son. Bet you didn’t know you had a brother. That’s right, every page is another beautiful sibling, and you’re just the cherry on top, Fun. Aren’t you, fun? Well, aren’t you fun? Are we having fun yet?
No, we’re talking about sins. Stop distracting me. It all started about something like fourteen days ago. Two weeks, in layman’s terms. But I’m not about to presume that you’re a layman, Fun. I know you’re a dilettante (I don’t know what I’m saying right now). Enough about you, shut your mouth. I have sinning to defend. Confessionals are like God’s court, yes Fun? Don’t answer that, Fun, or I’ll throw the book at you. Which book? The Bible. And your brothers. And don’t tell mom, unless you want them to take dad away again.
So I was on a train. Not just any train! You know the train. Oh you don’t know the train? Hm. That’s cute. Thought you weren’t a layman, guess I’m gonna have to speak to you like one. I was on the Bergen Line, Fun. Two weeks ago, Fun. Feel me, brother? Do you dig, son?... father?... I mean Fun. Strike that from the record.
So I was on a train. Not just any train! The Bergen Line, Fun. Two weeks ago, Fun. Bold that in the record. No italics. Just one of my little “things.” What can I say, it’s tacky. I was raised in a different time. Remember when they made REAL music, Fun? Before that Justin Bieber crap? I’m sorry, I’ll get off my soap box. It’s more of a crate. It never held soap. Actually, now that I’m looking at it, it’s a chair. But hey, what is a crate if not God’s chair. I refuse to stand up, I must tell my story. You must be quiet. Settle down, Fun.
So I was on a train. Not just any train! The Bergen Line, Fun. Two weeks ago, Fun. All caught up now, yes Fun? We’d been approached to play a limited engagement—a twenty-mile concert, Fun. Wait… a twenty-kilometer concert, Fun? I’m not sure what they say over there. It’s strange, Fun… Europe. I’d like to take you some day, just us boys. We can leave Mom at home. But if you think I can stand being around you for more than one chapter, you’re out to lunch, Fun. Not with me, either. Or your brothers. I’m sick, Fun. You made me sick, Fun. You did this to me.
So I was on a train. You know the one. We were approached to do a limited engagement. Only problem was, I was in the middle of a very different engagement. That’s right, father, your mother—the Queen of Brussels. I’d never heard of it, either, but she swears by that place. Swore by it, I guess. It’s a shame what happened to her. But my conscience is clear—that’s your sin, Fun. Your cross to bear.
So I was engaged to the Queen of Brussels. We all know how this story goes. She died on the train. Don’t know how. But the people that did that… respect. That’s not how I felt at the time, however. Because the second I saw that cold, dead body, I knew I had to put my best guy on the case—Flip Fitch. That’s right Fun, Uncle Flip. You remember how he used to pick you up and throw you up in the air and then forget about you and you’d land in the cat food? Remember our cat? Remember what Flip did to the cat? It’s okay, try and forget. In fact, strike that from the record. Fuck it, I’ll even give you a point. You could win! But you won’t. You just won’t. In fact, you just may be the biggest loser I’ve ever known, and I’m your fucking dad. What does that say about you? I don’t know, and I don’t wanna, and I’m your fucking dad! What does that say about me? Oofta… much to think about.
So I was on a train. Your mom is dead. Flip is on the case. All caught up now, yes Fun? So what does Flip do? Well let me tell ya, Flip cracks skulls. Innocents, bystanders, civilians, there is no one that will get in his way of finding the truth. Or at least, finding a tooth… he kicked a lot of people’s teeth in, you see? Do you see? They would never insure us, and I will never assure you. You’re going to hell, son, just affirming you. It’s okay, I am too. I’ll tell you why, I killed your mother. But it was your fault, you know why.
So I put my top guy on it because, honestly, I forgot that I did it. And I did do it. And that’s why I’m confessing. Not to the murder, but to putting Flip on the case. That’s just disrespectful. Nevertheless, he persevered. He hunted for clues, he gathered for clues, skulls were cracked, teeth were lost. You get the picture. You never call me anymore! Enough about you, Fun.
Flip came, he saw, and he hunched down by the body. He looked it up and down, inspecting with his magnifying glass. He was going through a bit of a Sherlock-phase. Great show, huge Steven Moffat fan. Oh God… what am I saying? I hate that show! I’m gonna be sick… YOU made me sick!
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