The Basement Tapes Puns

Sometimes I think about how people would react if the tapes ever got released. Would it make the government look like idiots? Or would people be surprised.

wanted-your-tape-back-you-had-to-"grow"-"some"-"balls"-and-go-down-there-and-"get"-"it"-"back"-and-then-he-ended-the-note-with-a-curse-word-and-you-did-not-give-a-shit-about-the-stupid-tape-but-you-were-super-curious-about-this-weird-event-and-the-perpetrator-so-you-went-down-there-anyway-but-it-was-busy-and-loud-and-so-you-did-not-find-the-perpetrator-but-then-someone-offered-you-a-free-drink-and-you-felt-like-getting-drunk-because-this-was-a-weird-fucking-day-and-so-you-accepted-but-it-must-have-been-laced-with-something-because-you-only-remember-the-next-15-minutes-or-so-and-the-next-thing-you-know-you-woke-up-in-a-cheap-motel-in-Philly-in-the-fetal-position-lying-in-a-pool-of-your-own-vomit-so-you-immediately-determine-the-time-and-then-call-into-work-and-then-luckily-find-your-wallet-and-are-able-to-take-a-bus-home story?

TEXT: Just the title.

My great-grandfather was an odd man--extremely so. He never liked being around  people who weren’t family. I have fond memories with him… but I’ll always remember the one rule at his home:

Stay out of the basement.

It happened when I was 14; I was becoming rebellious, and I was tired of being told what to do. And most importantly, I wanted to know what was in the basement.

So, one night, while spending the night, I decided to investigate while he slept.

As I tip-toed down the stairs, I cringed as there was an audible creak when I hit the last step. I paused, trying to listen for the tell-tale sound of my great-grandfather waking up. I exhaled in relief when I was only met with dead silence.

I crept toward the kitchen, my flashlight lit in preparation.

On the kitchen bar sat today’s newspaper from the local gazette.           I slowly opened the basement door, eyeing the darkness.

As I reached the bottom, I looked around. Around me were desks piled with papers. On one lone desk sat 5 tapes and a lone tape player.

I looked at one of the papers, and blinked upon spotting the US military logo on it, titled:         “Project Untote”         The date on the paper read August 5th, 1942.

The rest of the paper--and all the other ones--were in some sort of code, made up of dashes and pluses.

So I set my eyes on the tapes, which seemed to be in order. Lined up. The first one’s label read “TAPE I OF V”. Curiosity getting the best of me, I examined the tapes.

They seemed to be standard Maxell tapes.

With all that done, I inserted the tape and pressed play. My great-grandfather’s voice emerged,

“It is my greatest regret in life. What we did was an unholy act against humanity itself, which we all deserve to burn in hell for.  The word Untote is german for “living dead”. We… we wanted to create soldiers who would rise after being fatally shot and simply go back to killing the nazis… Until their heads had been blasted off, or they had been blown to smithereens, of course.

And who was I in all this? I was the man who shot all the test subjects dead before the scientists began testing. Shooting down innocents… The homeless people we’d gather off the streets, criminals who had no chance of parole. I had to shoot them all dead. I… I was so sure I’d get used to hearing them scream in agony; I was wrong. To this day, I can still hear their screams when I try to sleep at night. I hear their agony, I hear their begging. So, what

I'm interested to know people's favourite basement tapes songs. Leaving aside the heavy hitters, namely - I shall be released, This wheel's on fire and Tears of rage, what is your favourite?

Mine is Open the Door, Homer. It's not exactly a hidden gem, as it features on the basement tapes 1975 album and take 1 is the first track on the "raw" version of the bootleg series, but I bloody love it. The G to E Minor chord change in the verses is delicious.

My name is Julius Crandall. I’m 18 years old, and for as long as I can remember clearly I have been popular.

Physically, I guess, I’m nearly perfect. I never even had acne. I really only have one small blemish, and it hardly matters.

I guess you could say I’ve led a charmed life.

Have you ever heard that old song, by that band Nada Surf, called “Popular?” The chorus goes “I’m the quarterback/I’m popular/My mom says I’m a catch/I’m popular/I’m never last picked/I got a cheerleading chick.” Well, that’s me.

Sorry, but it’s true.

Everyone around town has always treated me like I’m something special, ever since I can remember, ever since I was a little kid about 8 years old.

I know part of it is that I’m athletic. I really AM the quarterback of our high school football team, and we’re having a hell of a good season. Plus, I’m smart. Between my test scores and my grades and my athletic achievements, I got into Northwestern University with a big fat scholarship.

Still. I’ve always kind of known that the reason I get treated so special isn’t just that I deserve it. It isn’t just that I’m smart and athletic and handsome. If anything, I’ve always felt like there was something a little bit sinister about just how obsequious everyone is in our town is toward me. Sometimes it feels a little mocking, almost menacing.

Sometimes the old folks around here smile at me, like they know a secret about me that I don’t know about myself. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember.

I’ve overheard my parents talking a few times about what it was like back when they were broke and pretty much ostracized here in town, which is weird because we’ve been really comfortable for as long as I can remember. I had my tonsils out when I was 8, and the surgeon did a bad job that left me with a scar. I have always assume my parents must have threatened to sue and then settled or something, and that’s why neither of them has to work and we are still pretty rich.

I have never been able to remember much before I was 8 years old. I think I have a lot of bad memories. I sometimes have bad dreams about kids in kindergarten and first grade teasing me a lot. I always guessed I was kind of a fat little kid, probably awkward, and that I just blocked out a lot of memories from before my life turned awesome. Life is happier when you have a knack for staying positive.

My first crystal clear, vivid memory is waking up in the hospital when I was 8, after having had my tonsils out. I rememb

"The tape ends with a brief glimpse of a sign on the wall of Eric’s bedroom, someone’s arm partially blocking it from sight. It’s the letters CHS along with a drawing of a bomb with a lit fuse and, in bold black letters, the word “clue.”

Do you guys think Eric wanted to get caught? That is a pretty bold statement of his intentions. Also along with the Nixon tape. Did they like the thrill of getting close to being caught or subconsciously they wanted to get caught?

So ik there are transcripts describing what they wore and them flashing their weapons around. My question is do the transcripts cover the full basement tapes? Or only parts?

Just like the titles says. What must hear, essential tracks are missing from the 2CD Raw edition of the Basement Tapes?

So I found a really good Beat Tape (kinda J. Dilla style) but must have somehow unliked it on Soundcloud so I can't find it anymore. From what I remember the picture was something pale/pastel pink and it was called something like "Making beats/music in my mom's basement".

It's a long shot but worth a try...

Like lmaoooo pipe down before I gotta hit you with the tire iron again

“I found tapes made by my great-grandfather in his basement”

My great-grandfather was an odd man--extremely so. He never liked being around  people who weren’t family. I have fond memories with him… but I’ll always remember the one rule at his home:

Stay out of the basement.

It happened when I was 14; I was becoming rebellious, and I was tired of being told what to do. And most importantly, I wanted to know what was in the basement.

So, one night, while spending the night, I decided to investigate while he slept.

As I tip-toed down the stairs, I cringed as there was an audible creak when I hit the last step. I paused, trying to listen for the tell-tale sound of my great-grandfather waking up. I exhaled in relief when I was only met with dead silence.

I crept toward the kitchen, my flashlight lit in preparation.

On the kitchen bar sat today’s newspaper from the local gazette.           I slowly opened the basement door, eyeing the darkness.

As I reached the bottom, I looked around. Around me were desks piled with papers. On one lone desk sat 5 tapes and a lone tape player.

I looked at one of the papers, and blinked upon spotting the US military logo on it, titled:         “Project Untote”         The date on the paper read August 5th, 1942.

The rest of the paper--and all the other ones--were in some sort of code, made up of dashes and pluses.

So I set my eyes on the tapes, which seemed to be in order. Lined up. The first one’s label read “TAPE I OF V”. Curiosity getting the best of me, I examined the tapes.

They seemed to be standard Maxell tapes.

With all that done, I inserted the tape and pressed play. My great-grandfather’s voice emerged,

“It is my greatest regret in life. What we did was an unholy act against humanity itself, which we all deserve to burn in hell for.  The word Untote is german for “living dead”. We… we wanted to create soldiers who would rise after being fatally shot and simply go back to killing the nazis… Until their heads had been blasted off, or they had been blown to smithereens, of course.

And who was I in all this? I was the man who shot all the test subjects dead before the scientists began testing. Shooting down innocents… The homeless people we’d gather off the streets, criminals who had no chance of parole. I had to shoot them all dead. I… I was so sure I’d get used to hearing them scream in agony; I was wrong. To this day, I can still hear their screams when I try to sleep