On Tuesday, January 24th, the US Senate will be voting on what is, in effect, a bill to censor the internet.

Claims put forth by organizations such as the MPAA and the RIAA on the negative effects of online piracy are dubious at best. Even if they weren’t, there are better, saner, and more responsible alternatives to enforcing copyright protection.

In solidarity with at least 12,000 other sites—including Wikipedia, Google, Reddit, Imgur, and Boing Boing—our site is going dark on January 18 from 8am to 8pm.

Please contact your representatives in Congress and ask them not to support these bills using the form below. This is the most important thing you can do.

If you haven’t already done so, please encourage others to do the same. Let’s kill these bills.

Cheers,
Aloud

Aloud’s “Exile in the Night” has been featured in a free music sampler released by Lemon Merchant Records.

The title track to their latest album appears alongside The Bynars’ “Every Little Thing You Love”, When Particles Collide’s “Making Enemies”, and The Wandas’ “Forever and Ever”.

By the way, all four bands perform next month at Somerville, Mass. venue Radio on Saturday, February 18. Cover for the 21+ show is only $5. Get on the Bus may be downloaded here for free, so share it with your friends and invite them to come down to the show!

Saturday, February 18 — 9pm
Radio
379 Somerville Ave, Somerville, MA (map)
featuring The Wandas, Aloud, When Particles Collide, and The Bynars
21+ | $5 | Facebook event page
Download LMR Sampler: Get on the Bus

We hope your 2011 met a fun and jovial demise, because things are about to get very real. The coming year will see us face extraordinary difficulty as we attempt to find answers to two pressing questions: were the Mayans really onto something or did they merely run out of calendar space?

More importantly: will The X-Files 3 be out before alien colonization begins?

Thankfully, we have a few things coming up next month to ease your restive minds. Aloud is teaming up with Maine duo When Particles Collide for a pair of shows in Biddeford, Maine and Somerville, MA.

The first show, in Biddeford, is on Friday, Feburary 17 at The Oak and the Ax. Portland band Sea Level will be performing, and the evening begins at 8pm. This show is all ages.

The Boston area bill at Radio (Saturday, February 18) also features The Bynars (incidentally, singer/guitarist Matt Jatkola is the man responsible for the artwork on Exile) along with BMA nominees and fellow road warriors The Wandas. This show begins at 9pm.

The cover charge for both events is only $5; if it were physically possible, we’d put this sticker on them.

Additionally, limited edition Aloud buttons will be available for free at both shows (while supplies last, naturally).

Information can be found below the break or on the Performances page.

Aloud and When Particles Collide

Friday, Feb. 17 – 8pm
Biddeford, Maine
The Oak and the Ax
140 Main Street (map)
with Sea Level

Saturday, Feb. 18 – 9pm
Somerville, Mass.
Radio
379-381 Somerville Ave (map)
with The Wandas, The Bynars
$5 | 21+ | Facebook event page

L to R: me, my sister Jenny, my cousin Angie, and Maxi, day after Christmas 2011.

I wasn’t going to post anything about this anywhere. I’m reflexively private and being on the receiving end of condolences makes me uncomfortable in a way I can’t describe well. However, the more I thought about it, the more I figured I owe it to his memory to let this tiny corner of the universe know, in spite of his flaws and his burdens, how great he was in life.

My cousin Max died last week. He was only 34 years old. The last time I saw him was the day after Christmas, just before I had to fly back to Boston. We spent a few hours doing what we usually do: talking about video games, music, guitars, and new Arrested Development episodes. Like all our conversations, it ended with a hug and his usual goodbye: “Love you, papo.”

(Actually, his parting shot may have been along the lines of, I’ll send you Skyrim when I’m done playing it.)

Much of my childhood was spent at my grandparents’ house. For decades, Maxi’s family lived next door, and whenever I was around I’d be hanging out with him. Usually, it was to play Nintendo (or Genesis, or SNES). My first memory of meeting Maxi was in my grandparents’ backyard when he was 11 and I was 6. I asked him if he wanted to be friends. “Okay,” he said, “but we’re already cousins, dummy.”

Ever since then, we were pretty close. Right up until the end I was always referred to as his little brother.

L to R: me, my grandpa, Max, and my sister Jenny — sometime in 1989.

Much like an actual older brother, he loved playing pranks when we were kids. He once faked his own death to ensure I wouldn’t play his newly acquired Sega Genesis while he was in the shower, a tactic that succeeded.

Another time he convinced me that he could blow up cities on a whim. All the cities he destroyed, of course, were on the other side of the globe, their destruction far from the clutches of verifiability.

I’ll never forget the Halloween he dressed up as Freddy Krueger and scared the living shit out of me with that knife glove. It may be why I never wound up seeing A Nightmare on Elm Street until I was 27.

I never held any of it against him, though. He grew out of it, and any childhood douchebaggery was offset by his unabashed, and quite possibly foolish generosity. One year he gave me his entire collection of Nintendo games. Another year, he gave me half his comic book collection. He loaned me movies and games all the time without ever expecting them back. That’s all small beans, mind you; stuff you take for granted when someone’s a text message, a phone call, a plane ticket away. As much as anyone who lives 1,500 miles away could be, he was there for me. Whenever I was in town, he’d insist on treating me to The Original Pancake House, or Cracker Barrel, or Casola’s, or wherever to catch up and see how I was doing, how Jen was doing, how the band was doing…

Maxi’s magnanimity with his time and possessions was not limited to me. There were times when this seemingly unconditional generosity bit him in the ass in a major way, but I know he never regretted it. Not for a second.

He was a deeply spiritual guy. From the stories I was told at the wake, he played a very active role in his church community mentoring kids as well as taking the reins with the church band. It was a part of his life he chose not to completely share with me or the rest of our family, but nonetheless it brought his short life immense joy and purpose.

Speaking of which, I want to thank his friends at Ekklesia Miami both for the solace and support they’ve given my family, and for putting together a very thoughtful and festive memorial service last Friday. I’d also like to extend special gratitude to his other childhood friend and Ekklesia pastor Chris Garcia for checking in on Maxi’s parents and his compassion in general. I will always be grateful that he could count on y’all.

Jen, Max, and me at the Wallflower Gallery in 2009.

Maxi was always supportive of my creative pursuits, and I’m glad he got to see Aloud at least once a few years ago. (His sole complaint was that we didn’t play “Godspeed”—a song which, ironically, was written for a friend after his wife passed away unexpectedly.) The last conversation we had, over text, was about Exile and how he enjoyed the change of pace. “You can’t have a bowl of just marshmallows and milk,” he explained, “although now that I think about it, I might have that for dinner.”

In fact, Maxi and I talked about music a hell of a lot. He was the first to tell me about Oasis, long before they blew up here in the States. I remember him excitedly bringing over a cassette of Definitely Maybe.

“You’ll love this,” he said, “it sounds like the Beatles and Pearl Jam.” (Surely, not the most accurate description, but those were his words, kids.) Played me “Live Forever” first. Around that time he also made me copies of Nirvana albums, Weezer albums (the good ones, anyway), Pearl Jam albums, STP, U2… I couldn’t possibly remember all of it. But it was all stuff that in one way or another shaped me and is at least as important as any other music I carry in me.

Needless to say, I’m fucking gutted. I lost my cousin, my faux-bro; most of all I lost my friend. I miss him dearly.

I don’t really have any proper or gracious way to conclude this, other than to impart the same, tired old lesson that inevitably rears its head when a loved one passes away:

Give the people you care about a hug; remind them that you love them. Do it while you can.

And always look on the bright side of life.

Henry

Photo: Michael Basu/DigBoston

Last week, a panoply of Boston area performers turned up for DigBoston’s “Last Call”.

Aloud was joined by groups like Kingsley Flood, Mellow Bravo, Mean Creek, You Can Be a Wesley, The Boston Pops, Viva Viva, and many others to talk about the last year and the one coming up.

Champagne was sprayed, beer was on tap, and a good time was had by all over at the DigBoston compound.

Head over here to read DigBoston’s whole piece and see some festive photos.

We’ll see you all in 2012. Have a happy new year, eh?

Photo: Mick Murray

Unchecked aggressive year-end consumerism getting you down? Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered. In the true spirit of the season, we’re skillfully repurposing a few old gifts.

But don’t worry, it’s better than that knitted tie your great-aunt got you that one year. Aloud’s holiday singles of years past are together at last: 2009′s “Happy Effing Xmas” and 2007′s “Put on the Parka”. And best of all, they’re free to download, no strings attached.

“Happy Effing Xmas” was featured this week on Boston Band Crush’s C.D. on Songs…

Protagonist Henry Beguiristain isn’t upset with the holiday itself, instead it’s a dysfunctional cast of characters including Racist Uncle Lou, a whiskey-fueled Grandma and a dropout younger brother. Beguiristain details the various pains of dealing with the family, while bandmate Jen de la Osa provides vocal support via a series of angelic, descending ooh-oohs that provide a pleasing backdrop to the National Lampoon’s-worth cast of characters.

…and spun on this past week’s Boston Accents on WFNX. Here’s what the venerable Michael Marrotta had to say about our little Christmas ditty:

Just wrapped up a month-long weekly residency at O’Brien’s, Aloud offers holiday tidings the only way we can relate to.

You can download the two songs for free here till the end of the month (or until we remember to take them down in the summer). Feel free to share ‘em with a friend or two.

We’ll see y’all in January, kids. Happy holidays!

Peaking at #2 this week (beaten out by the ever-amazing OldJack, I might add), the song’s going to be retired from the list. Thank you all for voting!

You can download the single and its b-side, “So Long”, for only 99¢ over here.