Replace yourself, don’t erase yourself.

For my first semi-noble deed of 2018, I snuck into the CJAM music library — okay, so Brady saw me, but I still say I was as stealthy as a stick of celery — and swapped out some of my CDs for quieter, better-sounding remastered versions. Almost everything I’ve done from OH YOU THIS forward was present and accounted for. The only things missing were CHICKEN ANGEL WOMAN and the MISFITS compilation. I’m not sure if someone stole those (again) or if they just got misplaced. Even without them, there are still a good fifteen albums on the shelf that have my name on the spine.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “A bunch of radio DJs discovering one specific artist’s albums are suddenly a little quieter without any explanation, but otherwise unaltered…that’s a great premise for the next Hollywood blockbuster horror film.”

You could call it The Remastered. It almost sells itself!

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