Hurtling at hypersupersonic speed, using the rhythm of an old poorly strung acoustic guitar and my own innovative blurtings, I call out to my Father to take me back. Now imagine a cheesy early 80s bop pop music video with stereotypical down-trodden drably-dressed Hollywood hired character actors all shuffling in time to the beat in the environs of a mental hospital.The beetles in ancient Egypt rolled the blessed dung to help re-fertilize the soil and continue life. The Beatles in swingin’ England did the same for humanity using pop music. Now I come from Queens, New York wishing to do it again, only this time dragging the dregs of western civilization, the mentally ill, out of the shadows and into the spotlight, using freak folk, pop, rock and roll, the old dusty roots of the blues, and African exorcism married to Jet Age shake and bop and beyond. My guitar is the only thing that I feel safe using. Before it becomes impossible to play the demonized instrument, sensing there is something akin to a small, evil, wet and rabid hedgehog living inside of it, I telepathically ghostwrite my approximations of Power Pop hits for my own personal Beatles. After completing my opus I destroy the instrument, breaking it into small pieces compact enough to fit neatly into a garbage bag.Utilizing smoke signals from the burning wood in my hyperactive brain, telepathy and a great deal of wishful thinking I summon my most beloved living post-punk pop Meisters- Elvis Costello, Squeeze songwriting duo Difford and Tilbrook and XTC’s Andy Partridge. These four marginal luminaries make a pilgrimage from their homes in the U.K. to retrieve my ersatz masterpieces. Composed on greasy pizza napkins these songs are recorded as a tribute and benefit for hope and freedom- MINE. I imagine their arrival in Queens Village, New York not in the limousines they may have used in the go-go 80s but instead debarking from the Q46 bus, walking to Creedmoor by crossing Union Turnpike in an homage and update to ‘Abbey Road.’ Due to their cult status and decades without a hit they go unnoticed, just four pale and pudgy middle-aged Brits visiting a nutter in Bedlam. Ah well, it’s a thought.Thanks to Jay Shine and Philip Velasquez for additional guitar and Dawn Reed for guest vocals.