In 1990, I was approached by an obsolete, destitute lounge singer who wanted me to co-produce a Christmas album. I had never met Guy Llama up until that point, and his choice of "producers" still mystifies me to this day.

Guy wanted a sickeningly pleasant, "spendid" Christmas extravaganza, a "venue" in which he could co-host-- a way to regain his lost glory with his lame, middle-aged core audience. I can only assume that his stature in the entertainment world at that time led him to choose a 14-year-old boy with no ties to the record industry, a taste for Nine Inch Nails and Monty Python, and a home studio-- comprised of a four-track, some crappy MIDI modules and a $30 Radio Shack mic. I was not the ideal producer for Guy's dream album, and if he hadn't known it at the time, it didn't take long for him to realize it. But Guy couldn't afford anything else, didn't have the talent to do it himself, and needed that comeback more than anything.

Thus, the first Llama-funded Christmas album-- the infamous Christmas Trek 2 Hell-- was created under stressful working conditions for both client and producer. Guy wanted a release that looked and sounded like a compilation of diverse, unrelated artists to fulfill his aural vision of a virtual televised holiday entertainment gala. I complied with his demands, but the artists I conjured up were all younger acts utterly unfamiliar to my aging, out-of-place patron. Worse, as a born-again atheist, I actually resented Christmas. It was my decision, not Guy's, to make a statement about this offensive holiday by mocking and destroying its closely-associated canon of music in any way I could manage.

When Guy heard the completed tracks, his ranting, profane commentary (all delivered to me through his trademark toothy grin) led to the title of the finished product. Not only were the "artists" unsuitable for him to "host," but he had no idea what to say about them when he was scheduled to be "on stage." Alas, he had too much invested to can the album or commission another one. So with my assistance, he added a few "host" voiceovers to complete the package, and the album was released in December of '91.

Trek was not the hit that Guy wanted-- at least not as far as his perceived core audience was concerned. However, he had suddenly become a cult hero for a much younger audience. As a silent partner, I never received credit for this success. It was Guy's time in the spotlight, his own bizarre comeback victory, no matter how little he understood the product. And since Guy craved the spotlight more than food or sex, he immediately did an about-face and commissioned a followup album-- what was to become 1992's Unwrap Your Contraption Vol. I and II.

During the recording of this album, Guy's personality changed. He became a slavedriver and a nuisance in his weekly checkup visits to my studio. His overinflated ego and voracious desire to expand upon Trek's success caused him to frequently meddle in the creation of a product that he could not possibly understand. He erroneously felt that he understood his new audience, and often went into hysterical fits asserting his tyranny over what was to be a "gonzo, wacky, entertaining album that today's teenager will relate to."

This is not to state that Contraption was an obviously marketed album, or that every song was bogus as a result of Guy's prominence and his two defining traits ("eagerness to please" and "utter cluelessness"). Many of the songs from this lengthy album merit inclusion on this compilation. But Contraption was more forced and belabored than Trek. Certain sections have always made me cringe, as I recall the poor decisions that Guy made about this track or that. In a way, I am glad that Guy again chose to take all the credit for this release.

Contraption sold nearly twice as many copies as its predecessor, and Guy was pleased. Ignorant of his original cult following's lukewarm reaction to the new album, he attempted to commission a third Christmas release. I was a little more in touch with the audience, and past experience had proven that I knew more about the tastes of "today's teenager" than did Guy. Furthermore, while I was always happy to take his money, I was not as pleased with his interruptions of the creative process, or the lack of credit for my endless toil.

Thus, I made Guy a proposal: he could fund another Christmas album along the same lines as the previous two, but he was not to "host" or appear on it, he was not to have any say over its content, and my own name would be appropriately credited for the amount of work I did (which is to say, all of it). His only other choices: to find another producer to abuse, or to let 1993 pass without a Llama Christmas album. Guy knew that his audience expected "the RB sound," and he wouldn't dare miss an opportunity to be in the public eye. So he begrudgingly slapped down the dough for Santa's Kegger-- an album in which his only "appearance" was his name on the cover.

This was the Llama album that I am most proud of. Guy's bungling and censorship were no longer factors in the quality of the finished product. I was able to explore the most offensive of topics, without Guy's obnoxious interruptions between songs. Best of all, I was able to pen a few Christmas originals, which Guy had not allowed on the first two albums. These numbers are undoubtedly among my personal favorites from the Llama era.

Kegger was another commercial success, and the critical response was vastly improved in comparison to Contraption. Guy may have felt shame at putting his name on the album that contained "Christmas is for Children," or his unwilling admission (via the Kegger credits) that he had done nothing of musical worth on any of the albums bearing his name. In any event, I never received another commission from Guy Llama, and never heard from him again-- until he contacted me recently to inquire about the prospect of a CD-only retrospective.

I write to you now from the same home studio where I recently compiled and remixed my favorite Llama songs. In repackaging these tracks for the Digital Age, I have been flooded by lost memories of my years in high school making Christmas music for the Man. These tracks, all ambitiously recorded on four-track cassette, were a massive bitch to remix. The original recordings all bear evidence of a stunningly detailed conception-- a conception pushing the limits of the humble four-track format.

Sometimes the tracks bear witness to the extensive planning required to cram their dense materials onto four tracks-- with accompanying sonic compromises. Other times, they were laid down with obvious sloth and disorganization-- perhaps "the producer" was in a hurry to record a fleeting "brilliant" idea, consequences during mixdown be damned. All the tracks were tainted with the telltale artifacts and amateurish tone of small-scale analog recording. Putting these tracks into the computer (the center of my studio in 1999) was a lot like putting a lawn mower engine into a Lamborghini.

But with the Miracle of Digital Technology, I was at least able to make these songs LOUD. Sometimes I could do a lot better than that. Often I had a choice in a given song between fixing a recording mistake or leaving it intact. My decisions were mostly based on which mistakes I found "charming," and which I found unacceptable. Hiss, punch-in pops, and wildly varying dynamics (compressors being absent in my studio until 1995) have mostly been tamed. But I left such flaws intact if they had become "a part of the song" over time. Frequently, I also replicated original errors of judgement during mixdown, such as too much reverb or overenthusiastic equalization on a given track, for those who are accustomed to the album versions.

I have spent countless hours trying to replicate mixes that were originally done in five minutes each-- pretty amusing. But it was necessary to put these tracks in their best possible light, to do the things that I would have done if I'd had the gear or know-how. Now I'm no longer haunted by Llama ghosts, and can move on to other things. Like another Christmas album. We'll see if Guy's interested... and/or sufficiently financially solvent.

I hope you enjoy the bizarre fruits of my childhood. Oh, and Merry fuckin' Christmas.

RB
Coralville, Iowa, December 1999

Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I'm your host and piano player, Guy Llama! It's been a long time since I've seen you all, you know, but I've returned… just to share with you a little Christmas trip down Memory Lane. We've got a really great evening put together for you tonight. First up on the agenda is the Village Idiot Chorus, with their 1990 Christmas classic, the "Hallelujah Chorus." We just know you'll really love this one, folks. Hope you enjoy this smashing little number! Take it away, guys!

Guy Llama
Atlantic City, New Jersey, December 1999

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