Summer 2010 – A mysterious person contacts us via email asking if we’d like to participate in the first of a series of limited edition short run lathe cut 7” he or she was planning on putting out. Being fond of vinyl and shady, groundless business propositions we said yes.

Early Fall 2010 – We record the two songs for the 7” in 24 hours at the Soul Shop recording studio in Medford, MA. During this session Elio and Ryan place stamp #7/10 on their Asian eatery frequent customer card. They dream of their impending free entrée. Joe brings a Johnny Cash record that no of us had ever, ever heard of and insisted we sample it on the B side.

Our mysterious vinyl backer becomes even more elusive when we flat out ask for his/her name because they were omitting it from their emails. The omission, shockingly, is purposeful and the backer asks for us to refer to him or her merely as, ‘F’.

However, this anonymous entrepreneur proves to be fairly worth his or her salt when they promptly pay for the mastering of the two 7” songs. Fears which had previously run rampant in the band are somewhat quelled. Lady Gaga wows a nation with second rate David Cronenberg imagery clumsily stapled to average pop music.

F tells us that the people cutting the vinyl will be done by late January. We book our release show safe in the knowledge that all will work out despite the nutty, non-traditional methods employed.

Late Winter 2011 – The vinyl purveyors stop returning F’s emails and phone calls. They post “no more orders!” on their Facebook and Twitter. No vinyl arrives. Hallelujah The Hills stand side by side on the edge of a road, just about sunset, look off into the distance, and all mutter to themselves, “now this? My god, now this?”

Ryan & Brian begin to attempt to contact the vinyl purveyors by every conceivable method. In a last ditch effort Brian calls an Athens, GA record store and says, “Hey, do you know anyone from _______ vinyl?” The record store employee surprisingly says, “Yes, they’re actually browsing the racks here right now!”

Brian talks to the vinyl purveyor for a brief 5 minutes. She spins tales of broken machinery, backed up orders, and a harrowing move from Seattle to Athens. She promises to call with another update that very night. She is never heard from again and a communication black out is once again instituted.

Ryan calls daily begging for an update whether it’s good or bad news. No calls, no vinyl. We’re so sorry, friends. The songs can be downloaded on Bandcamp. What have I learned from all this? Songs and ideas routinely overcome their format. And a shop name that rhymes with ‘Shingle Fleece Plate’ vinyl can take a walk until their hat floats. They are no friends of ours. Enjoy the songs. All the best, Hallelujah The Hills.