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A message from Crak, regarding Gigawatt.

Some things are so fresh, they refuse to be captured by recording devices.

Such was the tragic case on Monday March 3rd, 2003. The Gigapinowatts (sans Jeff) pulled off a night that could have gone toe to toe with December 9th in its own special way.

Hand Warmers: Pretty standard funky tune backdrop, but Eric starts mixing freestyle stuff with other rhymes. Chris tries to follow the meaning of the phrases in his alto fills.

Memory Exercises... Yada yada. Some good, some just ok.

The Invisible Dance Invisible. Inrecordable. Inrepeatable. This was so Insane it Invalidated the rest of the mInidisc. While it was Introduced by Tom and Eric click clack clappIng, it was truly Inspired by Chris and Nate's side to side jig. Wish you could've sIn it, but then it wouldn't be Invisible. Tom Invoked some jitterfunk and Eric opIned about Invisible dance moves with his larInx. It could have brokIn down Into nothIng had Nate not Inserted a screamIng "THE INVISIBLE DANCE!" and with that Ingenious stroke, we were off the races. In perfect sInc, bass, drum, voice came back In with Chris jInglIng the tInes of a dimInished trInad. Incredible.

Eggs Hollandaise Butter. Lots o' butter draped over Tom's Nova Bossa Nova. We tried to make a short intro that hinted at the rest of the song and it worked really well. Nate hinted at a 3-feel, and Chris foreshadowed an expositionary journey to the sea. Eric kept it creamy the whole way through. The hints all panned out in the song deliciously. I'll have seconds.

Penitent Missionary Beware the tritone. A roller coaster ride of dynamic proportions told the story of Gunter the missionary, who left a bloody mess in his family home and was asking the heavens for forgiveness. The heavens responded with indifference, rage, compassion, pain, and finally... after what seemed like an eternal pause in unstable equilibrium between salvation and damnation... God absolved Gunter from his sins.

Water Park Tommy popped riders into the water slide. Eric floated down gracefully. Nate represented crashing waves against your sides. Chris's broke his inner-tube and kinda splish sploshed his way around. Tommy cried when it was over, obviously longing for the sunny summer warmth. We're with you, Tommy.

Ode to a Party Social commentary abounded as we recreated last Friday's atmosphere. We had the general audience -- Tom being the downstairs crowd (occaisionally clapping) and Nate being the general happy chitter chatter of the upstairs crowd. Eric slurred his way around the apartment as the TDC pledge and chatted some nonsense with Chris's wine of a cheese eating gefilte fish. No party is complete without a wacky Gypsy band to drag out the night, and I am proud to announce that our song was as complete as our party.

From this day forth, Chris is *never* allowed to record anything again. [an error occurred while processing this directive]
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