WELCOME ONE & ALL. We’re back with one of our two monthly stories during this rather unique offseason. I’m taking this quarter off from our weekly RED LIGHT BYTES newsletters and stories to focus on other pursuits and to keep 365 INFANTRY from slipping off the backburner and into a real hiatus.
That said, we’ve seen a rise in paid subscribers recently (which I appreciate) and as such, I’ve previously promised two paid-exclusive short stories during this period. This is the first, with the second due at the start of September. I’m calling it “NEW BREED” to both separate it from the newsletter, and because I’m something of a different animal myself when it comes to this series nowadays. This rebrand of RED LIGHT BYTES stories will also stick around when I return to weekly offseason publication in October.
That said, don’t be surprised if I come back with some free QUICK BYTE micro-fiction throughout August. These little exploratory flash stories have proven more important to my process than even I gave them credit for, and I think need the exercise to keep the old writing muscles from atrophying. For now though, enjoy this latest from the world of 365 INFANTRY, and keep your eyes peeled for whatever comes next. Godspeed.
It’s a delicate thing to sell out. Any hound worth their salt knows it’s all a matter of balance. Phasing out the old sound, fazing in the new sound, throwing a few bones to the oldheads who were there for the first album.
Yeah, not many hounds are worth their salt, are they?
Fuck all them though, ‘cuz lucky for your ol’ pals in Metröpolis, “softening the sound” didn’t mean softening at all. When yours truly brought in our Injun wunderkind Brett into the fold, he gave me and the boys a first-class lesson in getting some of the cheddar floating around during that AOR revival in the 2460s.
Now everyone stay calm, alright? It was gonna be a one-time experiment. We even had a rock-your-ass-off album tucked in the ol’ vault to drop if the shit we came up with sounded off. Your friendly neighborhood Nic Ridgefield here ain’t an idiot, even when I’m three sheets to the wind.
Brett called the whole operation “making a play to the gallery,” a little turn of phrase he twisted from an interview with an old-time rocker, David-something-or-other he told me. Basically, he saw this as trying out the popular sound and seeing how it gelled.
Now for me, I’m pragmatic. People want their reverb-drenched desert dream fluff, let ‘em have it. Ours would be heavier by default, but I remember it was our favorite brown-furred bastard Harry who came in with the demands.
Lots of ‘em at that.
