When you measure time using ex-girlfriends, old addresses, and former haunts, the memories are bound to get distorted. But this much we know: We camped out in Chicago, in a 4th-floor attic on Paulina Street, and called ourselves too many different names to remember. In Winter 2003, after eating the worm, we became Emma Blowgun. We had everything we needed except for a psychotic streak. This was remedied after an impromtu trip to Osaka, Japan, where we set up our gear on a corner, got crooked on saki, and performed unplugged versions of Bavarian war hymns. The crowds grew devious, accusing us of crimes against the government. Fair enough. We hunkered down back in Chicago, recorded our new 5-song demo -- entitled Padlock Holiday -- with Graeme Gibson (Califone, Joan of Arc, the Fire Show) at Clava Studios (Modest Mouse, Califone, etc.). Now, when they ask us what, in no more than five words, makes us tick, we will respond: 'Quite fortunately, involuntary bio-cardio stimulation.'