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January 6, 2008

Rebranding

Written by Girth McDürchstein on January 6, 2008 3:14 PM
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“Rebranding? What the fuck does that even mean?” Carl asked.

I looked to Lacey, who stood next to me at the head of Harcourt Abimelech Feinstein’s dried-blood-encrusted conference table. She slipped me a worried glance, then said to Carl, “It means from this day forward, you are no longer Abysmal Crucifix. You are the Jupiter Starshine Collective.”

“Uhhh,” Mikey Parker said at length.

“Trust me,” I said. “I’ve thought and thought and thought about this—it’s the only way. We have to play happy, peppy pop-rock about joy, peace, and love.”

“No more metal?” Little Riffs Nicky whispered, clearly despondent.

“I have a daughter,” I said, prompting groans from everyone in the room except Lacey. “I have to set a moral example, and songs like ‘Phone Sex,’ ‘Tongue Quest,’ and ‘Bay-Ooh-Tay-Tay’ should never be picked up by an impressionable 15-year-old girl.”

“But…” Carl said. His face screwed up for a moment of deep thought, then he added, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but those songs will still exist even if we ‘rebrand.’”

“True,” Lacey said, “but we can downplay them and give the media evidence that we are really trying to change our image. This isn’t just about Renal—this is about having the worst public image since Ozzy Osbourne started biting the heads off live animals.”

Carl shrugged.

“Well, I think it sucks,” Mikey said. “But I do need money, so if this means people will actually buy our records—”

“It does,” Lacey said with confidence.

“I’m in.”

“It takes me back to my Jazz Lung days,” Riffs said, referring to his extended time playing lead guitar in an improvisatory jazz co-op in Santa Monica.

“Margo…?”

“Well,” Margo said. “I guess I don’t have a problem except that this feels like a PR move. Will the music still come from deep within your soul?”

“Always,” I said. “Remember how I feel about my daughter.”

“I do,” Margo sneered.

“So then it’s settled,” I said. “From this day forward, we will be known as the Jupiter Starshine Collective, and we will be righting the wrongs of our past.”

“That was easier than I thought,” Lacey said. “Riffs, you’ll need to make a public apology to all those roadies.”

“FUCK YOU, WHORE!” Riffs screamed, running from the room.

“Maybe not.” She sighed.

I put a hand on her surprisingly broad shoulder. “It’ll all come in time,” I said reassuringly. “In more ways than one.”

She leered at me for a moment, then told Mikey he’d need to cut his hair.

“I always hated you,” Mikey whispered with an intensity he usually reserved for street urchins.

“Look, it’s all part of the rebranding—”

“Fuck rebranding, man. My strength comes from your hair.”

“That explains why you’re such a pussy,” I chuckled.

“Asshole—” He lunged toward me, but I dove out of the way and he smacked against the wall. Somewhat embarrassed, he slinked out of the room.

Lacey sighed again and turned to me. “We’ll just use you in the promo photos.”