Emily woke at midnight from a dream so strange, it couldn't be put into words. Something about electricity; something about power towers; something about frayed wires touching raw nerve synapses, and the pretty pretty patterns they made in the brains of cats and people across the land. Good stuff.

Then there came a fizzling and sizzling from across the room. Emily hopped out of bed to go inspect her Oddisee - and saw sparks jumping from the controls and smelled the sweet aroma of burning wires. It was the perfect opportunity to update her MC3 (Multisensory Chaos) player, so she sat down and began to capture the sounds, smells and sights of the Oddisee in meltdown mode. 

She'd recorded a few moments of delicious mechanical haywire when a message on the 8-ball screen caught her attention: Stronger signal detected. Triangulate now? "It's a signal? Not the Oddisee in self-destruct? Yes! Triangulate! I want more!" Soon there was another message: Transmission originating from Northwest US. Exact location cannot be traced. !!WARNING!! Transmission is of extraordinary power and sinister beauty. Damage to GPS, radiowave stenograph, and Magic 8-Ball unavoidable. Continue?

"Heck yeah," Emily said as she tapped the Oddisee's controls, and suddenly the flickering image of a fey, lovely face looked out at her from the 8-ball screen. 

"Sherry Fraser," whispered Emily, and the face shivered and nearly disappeared. Emily could catch only a few words. Something about a new studio release for Two Ton Boa. Something about a full assault on the internet airwaves, pirate radio style. 

"Sherry? We'll need a more secure connection," Emily said. "Use coordinates S-6336, X-923, E-13, and sink my battleship!"

The image cleared as if magically, and the conversation was on.

Emily: Where did you get all that rad static gadgetry? I must know.

Sherry: I inherited it from my now deceased great-uncle...it's a real hi strung, touchy pile of hair sizzlers, but he trusted I could handle the wild beast mechanics of them and handed me the keys to the kingdom. 

Is the Internet gone along as you have planned it would?

I smell a bit of rot in it, not sure I like that...it's a strange universe, the analogy for tangents of the mind we've created out of electric waves and circuits, I still can't quite wrap my head around it, the gargantuan impact it's having on all our lives. I think of the cover of Parasiticide sometimes, when I feel my brain is infected by the internet. It's beautiful in an ugly way, and huge but dangerous. It seems out of control...sort of like a cancerous growth we're growing for a science experiment, but maybe in actuality, it's more like a microscopic metal fungus that burrows further and further into the fold of our brains, every time we plug in to the web to observe it. We cannot observe it without it's slithering it's way into our psyche. Our gaze on it gazes back into us and paralyzes our attention, holds it hostage, settles into the cells, stills the body....hands and feet and limbs become icy, like stone. Something's entrancing us, feeding us, and what's being funneled into us, into our brain receptors, while our bodies turn numb and time gets gulped away? Could be something good, could be something not so good. I suppose you could say I don't entirely trust it.

Do you wear rubber gloves when playing with all that electricity?

Well, for extra precaution, it wouldn't hurt to wear a full body suit, but I like to grip the hum right between my teeth. I get shocked a lot, I should probably wear more body armor and try not to eat the current so much.

Have you ever gone on an all-out electrical rampage?

Oh yes, yes....oh my, yes. I've had my way with a couple fields of offensive molecules.

I had full body plastic surgery once and found out I have a full size cat living inside my entire body. What's under your skin?

An electric biogenetic meat machine wrapped around a time bomb.

My bedroom windows are melting under the pressure. Where did you get your voice?

Fresh drops of holy water from The Good Lord Above, splashed on uninvited creatures that like to crawl out of the dark wet cave beneath my esophagus and rake my throat. 

Between the EP and Parasiticide, how were you spending your time?

I held an apprentice job and learned a whole lot more about the crazy microchip machines that engulf much of our short life spans these days. I wore pretty, soft fuzzy clothes that would have gotten ruined in a couple days on tour. I let myself feel fragile for a spell, let my callouses soften... I dreamt lots of happily foggy, fuzzy white dreams that I won't go into here...dreams I held dear, to counteract the buzzing black clouds that were threatening to suffocate me in my mildewing NW basement bunker.

Every now and then, I did attempt to write, and my brain neurons misfired continuously, vomiting strings of tangled notes, all nonsense, and getting progressively worse as time ached on. Something was gradually gradually haywire in my synapses. I tried doing retreats of 10 hour-a-day meditation for 10 days in a row....I meditated regularly, for months and months, trying to rewire my brain..but it didn't fix the problem. One day someone with lots of medical degrees suggested I take a little magic pill made for epileptics. It rewired my tracks and now my idea trains don't derail and go one forever and ever till they drill microscopic holes in my skull that sink my musical battleships.

How do you plant bad seeds?

Very, very badly. Not well at all.

Do you have any carnivorous plants?

Yes, there is one that lives in my basement, it has a very large, dull greenish grey mouth with a flickery tongue. It sits very still and waits, and usually unfurls to eat metal, but it has been known, on occasion, to rock bratty little children and chatty kitty cats to sleep in a very tight hug. Especially naughty children that never grow up. It's probably good for you that we're conducting this interview through your Oddisee and not in the dark cement bowels of my house.

In the new video, Cash Machine, do you know that crow in the bird cage?

Yes, his nickname is Mr. Pips. He doesn't like me to divulge his full name to the public. He comes from an ancient line of Corvus brachyrhynchos, and there are a couple ancestral crow clan feuds that he'd rather not risk stirring up. I rescued him from a plastic flower factory where they had him hogtied to a wooden board. That's a long story I won't get into now. No harm was done to him in the shooting of the video. He was happy the whole time. He's a great actor, didn't complain at all when we spun him in his cage over and over. He was also gracious enough to pose with me in a few promo photos we haven't published yet.

What is this gadget i drew?...

That's a Neuronal Depository. It's the little cagey box you can put pink hospital pills in. I'd bet money Mr. Pips was in there, got a taste of a little pink pill and flew the coop. He's most likely trying to fool you with his likeness posing on the paper, singing tunes he recorded the day before. The little candle tower powers the generator that keeps his bird-double robot singing crackly melancholy melodies in his absence.

What do you call a drink with 3 ounces lime juice, a pinch of rock salt,  one drip of pink cyanide, mixed and raised to a slow boil?

Delicious!  A new magical throat-coat!!  I'll take a swish, gurgle and spit it out. Thanks for the new recipe, Emily! My pipes will love it. 

What does E.S.P. mean to you?

Electrical Sensory Psychosynthesis

Which it is?

A. Tea or Coffee?

Tea, alone. I don't normally take tea in groups. However, if someone brews tea in front of me, and I see no poisonous hi-jinks taking place, I'll consider sipping it. I'm also a big fan of water. It's the purest electrical conductor, elemental emperor of all liquids - distilled in the hands of the Good Lord and poured into our little seasick bodies like there's no tomorrow. 

B. 3 string bass or 4?

4, the mighty 4. 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 

C. Smoke 'n mirrors or feedback n' reverb?

Scrap metal and wood + iron hammers and nickel rope + plugs and hums ÷ by shocks and jolts = feedback n' reverb

D. Photoshop or paper & scissors?

All of the above. Paper & Scissors feed my Electric Eye Candy Machine, I need all of them.

What is your greatest talent?

I'm tricky.

Do you have a particular time of day or night you like to write or make music? 

When I'm in writing mode, it's like this: 
Early day and late night, I dream music. Afternoons suit me. I take naps. Write. Eat. Write. I take another cat nap. Write. Write. Write. Then I watch a sci fi DVD while I eat. Write. Write. Sleep. I dream. I wake and run to the 4 track. I write. I see visions, go for a walk, look at plants, read a sci fi novel or classic book, I write. And so on. Which reminds me, I need more beautiful and bizarre comics in my library for my mental music breaks, can you recommend a couple of your favorites?

Berni Wrightson's illustrated Frankenstein is a good nights read. Die Ruckkehr Von Andreas Cromwell Stone, it's in german and I can't read it, but it look awesome! Thomas Ott's Welcome To Hellville. This book has no words, so language skills aren't a requirement.

What type of internet connection do you have?

Cables IV my life. I am make of cables, cables in my hair, cables in my instruments, cables in my house, cables IV my computer. Cable hell. That's how I'm plugged in.

Who does your website?

My fuzzy white sweater wearing wonder twin of the same name as myself,  who likes discovering mysterious worlds that thrive, breed and multiply under glossy glass surfaces. She cuts off unwelcome conversations in her mind quickly by going into arty trances.  She makes pictures to go with soundtracks, and pictures for soundtracks to be written to. She put together the world for the video as well, it's endlessly entertaining to run around in places she creates.

What is the strangest thing that has ever happened to you?

Since you've tossed ESP into the air, here's a strange ESP story. An old, close friend of mine left town very suddenly years ago, he was going through a life threatening crisis, and one night about two weeks after he skipped town, that is, after total silence and no word from him whatsoever, I woke bolt upright from a dream, and raced into the living room...I stared at the phone, hard, for no more than a minute, and it rang. I knew he was going to call me. I picked it up, it was my friend calling to tell me he was coming home. It was somewhere around 2:30 in the morning. It was totally random. I asked him over and over if he had tried to call me, if perhaps he had called a few minutes before, etc. But he insisted he hadn't, besides which, before he called, I had checked the caller ID and the last call in was a daytime call...It was hard for me to accept the facts. That was Electrical Sensory Psychosynthesis if you ask me.