So tonight I’d like to tell you all a story. If you want, skip to the audio and play the music while you read it.

A long time ago in a student ghetto far far away, the bass player for a band called The Mojo Wire sat bored and listless as his bandmates decided to do other things than play in bands. That this was 99% his fault, what with his managerial ineptitude and absolute lack of basic social graces and self-promotional skills, had never entered his head. He was mostly depressed and preoccupied with the brutal vagaries of life in Isla Vista during the final days of the decadent American Century, and so he successfully disregarded the outside world in favor of pursuing one of his favorite pastimes: playing the bass guitar through an echo pedal so as to forget a slew of nasty rejections by various and sundry Babes Of Rock.

He did this echo-bass guitar thing quite frequently in those days. Indeed, he had already seen fit to subject his band to this device in the form of one of his (eventually) best songs, and little did they know what would result from their enthusiastic encouragement of his efforts. Oh yes, simple compositional efforts were just the tip of the trash heap for this dude. He wanted to churn out splendidly epic feats of sub-woofing power, and so he did, so much so that eventually another band member couldn’t help but notice.

“Fucking hell,” said the drummer. “We’ve created a hideous, insatiable monster!” “Sorry,” said the bassist. “Hey, would you mind recording some drum tracks for me?” “Uh, okay man,” said the drummer. “Sweet,” said the bassist. And so they hauled out the trusty Tascam 4-track and went to work. Unfortunately, the results were not necessarily splendid, nor epic, but they did woof with the subs and consume billable amounts of electric power. Nevertheless, the bassist decided to assemble the recordings into what, in ancient vinyl days, was known as an “E.P,” and so enlisted the help of his guitarist’s recording software and CD burner.

The guitarist’s patience, or perhaps his aesthetic sense of taste, was sorely tested by the bassist’s chosen design for the CD’s cover. “Dude,” said the guitarist, “that’s just your new girlfriend’s photo with some cheesy Photoshop 2.0 filters on it. That’s not a CD cover.” “Maybe not,” replied the bassist, “but it’s an E.P. cover.” The gutiarist rolled his eyes and went back home to run his militant dictatorship in peace. And so it was, on July 28, 1999, three months after the belated release of his band’s third album, the bassist celebrated the release of the “Dive” E.P. by the ad-hoc “band” he christened “Low Tide.”

Needless to say, it did not light the world on fire, not then, and not anytime in the future. However, one of its songs, “Saturation” did go on to become the Mojo Wire song “Peak Of My Career,” and another, “Whatever Gets You Going,” eventually became the intro to the Honey White song “Lightning Rod.” Of the rest, only the “Dive” title track would retain a fond space in the bassist’s musical heart, but the last song on the disc, the 2-year-old “Monsoon,” did earn the appreciation of Honey White’s guitarist many years later because of its “pure, unashamed druggy weirdness.” And that, as everyone else hoped and prayed, should have been the end of it, but of course it wasn’t.

You see, 9 years later, the bassist was trying to think of things to do during another band hiatus, so he began writing a novel. He became entirely too wrapped up in this hopelessly gimped effort, but missed playing the bass guitar, so he decided to compose a soundtrack for the unfinished novel, and foist the sub-woofing wankery of Low Tide on a new generation of unsuspecting humanity in 2008.

Soon, very soon, the rafters of Southern California will rumble again with the vibrations of the Fender Jazz Echo-Bass. Until then, anyone silly enough to consider themselves an eager listener may wish to endure the original Low Tide “Dive” E.P. as a reminder to what depths Jean-Keir DuBois can sink when his lyics fail him and his massive ego consumes him.

Audio: Low Tide’s “Dive” E.P.