Drinking beer and blowing pot in the parlor can have its consequences. (Some of us were conceived precisely in such a manner, how's that for family planning)? The Cells were fortunate: the only thing that befell them was a couple of lousy sides of a tape that managed to fall into the hands of producer / rabid fan Basil Pederast and eventually into yours.

Mr. Pederast states for the record that he "didn't have much to work with, but I feel I did capture the brightest moments of the sessions, and without question, left the real crud on the floor. Effects were liberally applied when effective. At first I wasn't sure if this project would come to completion, but as it progressed I gained confidence that the end product was worth the efforts and was worthy of standing alone beside the icons of the WMC catalog. The sides are unquestionably fine records of the Cells' approach to life and art. And as artists, I am indebted to their grand vision."

Illusions aside, should you choose to play this disc, be warned, it's not even up to Canadian Brain Mist standards (or maybe it is). Multiple listens may reveal some brief bursts of brilliance, repeated listens may manufacture madness. Unplugged and (mostly) uninspired, what is this crap? It's not even real. It's just what you believe. It doesn't even have to match up.