The inimitable and suave Frank Falestra, aka Rat Bastard, condo board president and retired Airline President, joins Rob and Barry to discuss the recorded works of Mark Edwards under the band name My Dad Is Dead. His 2005 release A Divided House is what Rat wanted to focus on, and we manage to focus, a little, in between phone calls and ribald stories. Apologies to Mark Edwards for another round of armchair psychoanalysis by the TRGMH peanut gallery. This one was, indeed, a lot of fun.

The inimitable and suave Frank Falestra, aka Rat Bastard, condo board president and retired Airline President, joins Rob and Barry to discuss the recorded works of Mark Edwards under the band name My Dad Is Dead. His 2005 release A Divided House is what Rat wanted to focus on, and we manage to focus, a little, in between phone calls and ribald stories. Apologies to Mark Edwards for another round of armchair psychoanalysis by the TRGMH peanut gallery. This one was, indeed, a lot of fun.

Rob, Barry and Jesse Small from Milk Spot gnaw like poodles on the second of Frank Zappa's post-head injury discs, the Eskimo-infested and Cosmik Debris-buffeted "Apostrophe", all while drinking the fine concoctions (well, Rob and Barry anyway) poot forth by The Laser Wolf. Frank survives unscathed, despite having died 25 years ago, and still continuing to influence young bon vivants like Jesse.

Rob, Barry and Jesse Small from Milk Spot gnaw like poodles on the second of Frank Zappa's post-head injury discs, the Eskimo-infested and Cosmik Debris-buffeted “Apostrophe”, all while drinking the fine concoctions (well, Rob and Barry anyway) poot forth by The Laser Wolf. Frank survives unscathed, despite having died 25 years ago, and still continuing to influence young bon vivants like Jesse.

Holly Tavel calls in on a rotary phone from a distant galaxy to discuss the mysterious Lawrence and his band Felt. We try and keep up with L and his compatriot Maurice Deebank through the course of their third album, although it is admitted that our chisels don't make much of an impact on the edifice, impressive and vexing though it is. The haunting daylight mystery remains unscathed.

Holly Tavel calls in on a rotary phone from a distant galaxy to discuss the mysterious Lawrence and his band Felt. We try and keep up with L and his compatriot Maurice Deebank through the course of their third album, although it is admitted that our chisels don't make much of an impact on the edifice, impressive and vexing though it is. The haunting daylight mystery remains unscathed.

Rob and guest Derek Hyde take turns piloting the river boat up the Great Miami River to Dayton, Ohio, home of the prolific, erratic genius Robert Pollard. The cargo is Guided By Voices' 1992 album Propellor, the album which PROPELLED them into great acclaim and a career in the wider spaces. Barry is allowed to look at the scenery but is sent below deck like Lurch in The Addams Family when he makes comparisons with another 1992 musical act. Rob and Derek come ashore, erect their temple, set about adoring St. Robert, and distributing smallpox-infected GBV mix tapes to the gentle natives they find there. Long Live Rockathon! So sayeth we all.

Broward County's lovable(?), voluble dullards manage to rope in an actual authority to discuss the very very English Village Green Preservation Society by The Kinks. Marianne Spellman, who travelled with and photographed The Kinks on their early 1980s tours, brings her lifelong love and knowledge of Ray, Dave et co. to our ribald den of cobbled together bullshit, and elevates things considerably.

Broward County's lovable(?), voluble dullards manage to rope in an actual authority to discuss the very very English Village Green Preservation Society by The Kinks. Marianne Spellman, who travelled with and photographed The Kinks on their early 1980s tours, brings her lifelong love and knowledge of Ray, Dave et co. to our ribald den of cobbled together bullshit, and elevates things considerably.

We follow Dorothy (Tim Moffatt) down the Yellow Brick Road to hell, as he espouses a "unique" conspiracy theory regarding Butthole Surfers' 1993 Independent Worm Saloon. By the end we are all in for human sacrifice and special Kool Aid.