The Nerve Magazine - November 2005 by The Nerve Magazine

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Distribution by

Cover Story

Innards

THE NERVE HIT SQUAD

BEDOUIN SOUNDCLASH

The Don (a/k/a Editor-In-Chief and Publisher) Bradley C. Damsgaard editor@thenervemagazine.com

These rootsy Canucks are custom made to piss off the average Nerve reader. On the other hand, so is The Nerve

Pistol Whipper (a/k/a Music Editor) Adrian Mack mack@thenervemagazine.com

Map and Details (a/k/a Skate Shreditors) D-Rock and Miss Kim Launderer (a/k/a Book Editor) J. Pee Patchez The Henchmen (a/k/a Design & Graphics) Dale De Ruiter, Chris Trudeau Weapons Cleaner (a/k/a Article Editor) Jon Azpiri, Sean Law Surveillance Team (a/k/a Photographers) Laura Murray, Jeremy Van Nieuwkerk, Miss Toby Marie The Muscle (a/k/a Staff Writers) Jason Ainsworth, Cowboy TexAss, Casey Bourque, Chris Walter, Jake Poole, Jason Schreurs, Adam Simpkins, Therese Lanz, Carl Spackler, David Bertrand, Herman Menervemanana, Sean Law, Phil Heidenreich, Ferdy Belland, Dave Von Bentley, Devon Cody, Dale De Ruiter The Kid (a/k/a The Intern) Kristy Sutor Fire Insurance (a/k/a Advertising/Marketing Dept.) Brad Damsgaard advertise@thenervemagazine.com Plaster Caster (a/k/a Cover Design) Miss Toby Marie Out-of-town Connections (a/k/a Distribution and Street Team) Toronto: Rosina Tassone Calgary: Mike Taylor. Edmonton: Freecloud Records, Shauna Sirockman Winnipeg: Margo Voncook Whitehorse: Jordi and Jeremy Jones Victoria/Whistler: Jono Jak, Lindsay Seattle/Bellingham: Frank Yahr The Nerve is published monthly by The Nerve Magazine Ltd. The opinions expressed by the writers and artists do not necessarily reflect those of The Nerve Magazine or its editors. The Nerve does not accept responsibility for content in advertisements. The Nerve reserves the right to refuse any advertisement or submission and accepts no responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts or artwork. All content © Copyright The Nerve Magazine 2005 Est. 1999

The Nerve Magazine 508 - 825 Granville St. Vancouver, B.C. V6Z 1K9 604.734.1611 www.thenervemagazine.com info@thenervemagazine.com

PHOTO: DUSTIN RABIN

Shotgun (a/k/a Film Editor) Michael Mann mann@thenervemagazine.com

T R A N Z M I TO R S / K I N G K H A N & B B Q 10 Revenge of the Nerds, but without the “revenge of the” part.

C O H E E D A N D C A M B R I A / O P E T H 19

Proggy comic book weirdness and Sweden’s magnum Opeth

R I C H H O P E 11

The only black man that ever came from Edmonton

U N I O N M A D E / S I P Y E K N O M 12 Hardcore from the furthest corners of the Empire

G E N E R AT I O N E X P L O I TAT I O N 30

Kliph Nesteroff should totally start a magazine or something

M E LV I N S 21

Vancouver is their only Canadian stop. Say thank you.

B O OT L E G G I N G 18

We also back software piracy and using the toilet at Starbucks

FESTIVAL O F GUNS 2005

R O D I R O N H AU L E R S 13 T H E S T U M B L E R ’ S I N N 11 C RYS TA L P I S TO L 21 S P R E A D E AG L E 7 V I C TO R I A N P O R K 13 M I D N I G H T D R A G O N 13 B L A C K E Y E S A N D N E C K T I E S 15 T H E M A N V I L S 15 T H E S M O K E S 15

S e a n L a w : Rockabilly is Good Food 13 H a n g i n g fiction by C.C. Rose 30

Off the Record 22 Live Wires: 25 Film 27 Books 68 Skate Spot 29 Ainsworth 30 Worst CD of the Month 24 Crossword/Comics 31

THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 5

ONE WAY TICKET TO HELL... AND BACK

IN STORES

NOVEMBER 29 www.thedarknessrock.com

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CHEAP SHOTZ

Here’s a Song About a Girl The Chick Magnets first got together as a band in 1995. The idea was to write short, fast, poppy songs that were fun to play and to listen to. The lineup consisted of Ken Insipid on vocals and bass, Lucas Spinoff on vocals and guitar, and Mr. Plow on drums. After writing a set of stupid songs, they got some stupid matching shirts, and some stupid matching converse all-stars, in order to play some stupid shows. They also recorded some stupid records. A few years ago the Chick Magnets played their last show, although it was never announced. They just stopped playing. Subsequently, the guys went on to do other things. Ken, for instance, tried to bring the Mod revival to Vancouver with the Van Courtland Rangers, while Lucas put his pop sensibilities to good use with the Spinoffs, and Mr. Plow… Well, he’s just Mr. Plow. After several years absence for an utterly obscure reason, the band has decided to get together for one last show Friday November 4th at the Columbia. They fervently hope to see you there. - Stupid Chick Magnets PR

Sir Arthur cheapshotz@thenervemagazine.com

DOAbbotsford Adrian, When I was out walking my new puppy near the end of October, I noticed the torn remnants of several DOA posters advertising a rare Bible Belt appearance by the Burnaby Boys who ought to be in the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame. Not that there is a chance in Hell the Cleveland Rock Museum is about to open a Shithead Wing, given their reluctance to admit Black Sabbath or Alice Cooper. Come to think of it, lame Vancouver motherfuckers, why don’t we open up a Punk Rock Hall of Fame right here in Dope City? Such an enterprise could both uplift and further degrade the city that hopelessly prays for its first Stanley Cup since about the time cars were invented. My partner and I sat down to a meal of oysters and chips that she washed down with iced tea and I washed down with a couple pitchers of 1516, before she dropped me off at the show. The waitress insisted she had to serve the pitchers with two glasses and appeared incredulous that I would suck back a pitcher by myself, let alone a pair. There’s not even four pints in those things! I figure my punk rock drinking habits have been toned down but when I donated my empties to an Abbotsford boy’s soccer team recently, one of the lad’s carrying the bottles remarked, “Wow! That’s more than we’ve got from anyone!” They ought to see my collection of absinthe empties. On to the show. Soon as I got out of the car I could not believe how many young people were milling about the front of the Matsqui Recreation Centre. This is the same place I like to swim in the waves - it looked like a whole different place with punk rockers instead of spoiled hockey brats lingering by the parking lot. The show was actually taking place in a room where I usually see seniors playing bridge and such. Come to think of it: it may not be that long before DOA form a bridge foursome called the Murder Squad. When I went for a coke from the swimming pool concession, security was hustling members of both sexes out of the women’s can. Uptight fucks! Like Don Cherry says, “Let ‘em play!” The 1516 started to hit me about the time Martial Law’s singer began bellowing about fuck knows what in front of his band of

“Whoa, I think I ate too many scoobie snacks.” Dale DeRuiter, Senior Nerve Intern

acid dropping ravers, and I had to make repeated trips to the poolside loo - but the band sounded great in my beer muddled mind, and they attracted a great many fans stage front, where they jostled like 20 empties in a two-four case. Before I knew it, it looked like Abbotsford’s boys and girls in blue were trying to empty the joint out because too much trouble was being caused outside the small hall as the rain fell, causing the sea of leather jackets outside to glisten like young thighs splattered with fresh ejaculate. After conferring with the cop at the door, I encouraged everybody to come inside and was joined by Shithead. There were maybe a dozen cop cars there to watch over the Anarchy. A short show then took place, and I’ll tell you what: the kids of Abbotsford were slamming just like the old days of Vancouver punk rock. I was real proud of everybody. The hits in the pit were friendly, if a little severe at times, but everybody knocked to the floor was hauled up quickly by their fellow pogoers. It was the best show in Abbotsford since the hockey play-off riots a couple years ago. - Randy Dillan

Eag-o-mania! Checkin’ in with the Hillbillies By Adrian Mack

he last time we talked to Spreadeagle – who return to the Brickyard on November 18th - the band was still wet beaked, youthful, filled with hope and ready to lay seige. And now? Turtlenecks. Chris Dyck has called the Nerve to discuss his turtleneck. Why would he do that? Is he trying to goad me? It turns out he’s ironing the garment in preparation for his role as comical Frenchman, this being the run up to Halloween. He does disclose, how-

ever, that vocalist Telford Germaine – who was conceived when God foolishly tried to synthesize man with the Third Reich’s fabled Sturmtiger cannon – could be counted on to wear an unironic turtleneck if the conditions were right. “If that was the new rock fashion, for instance,” Dyck says, knowingly. Yeah – I seen Germaine’s inner-scenester expressing itself at the DFA 1979 show a while back. In his defense, the man has turned into a powerful singer, judging from the two jaw-dropping Spreadeagle tracks (“Kiss the Rings” and “Dance, Dance, Die”) that were sent to the Nerve office by a mysterious Hungarian record producer. There’s a whole album of stuff this good in the can, too. “I really wanted to make sure that each song had a different tempo, and really watch that

Last Bridge Finally Burnt While working on a festival review of Pop Montreal, Nerve contributor Michael Mann had a friendly exchange with former Nerve music editor and current Montreal Mirror film editor Sarah Rowland at a Black Mountain show. Well, it wasn’t so much of an exchange as it was Michael trying to say ‘hi’ and get a quote for his article, and her putting her hand over the recorder, saying “no comment”, then sprinting off with some burly rocker dude, presumably to have sex. The entire Nerve staff is deeply disappointed, thinks the Nerve is better off without her, and is interested to know if the Mirror is currently looking for writers. Michael Mann’s review of Pop Montreal was later deemed “too awesome for print” and was instead replaced with an article on Spreadeagle.

Miss Toby Marie is the lady who designs the Nerve’s covers every month. Brad discovered her toilet dancing in a bawdy house, kitty corner to the Dufferin. He saved her from a life of degradation. In return, Miss Toby must do whatever Brad wants. Just recently, we received this telegram from Miss Toby: “It was shiny turquoise, with lots of scratches in the paint cuz I didn’t get around to varnishing it, it had a yellow skull sticker on the front of it, big handle bars and a new black seat that was so f******n comfortable, it practically made no sounds when I road it... and it was as fast as the wind and as slow as a snail all at the same time... sigh. Stop.” She refers, of course, to her lovely bike (pictured aboe), which was taken by dirty thieves from right under her nose (bad place to leave it). Miss Toby is offering a reward for any information leading to the recovery of her bike, but does not clarify exactly what the reward will be. Hmmm. n

I didn’t write everything in the same T******* O* F****.” Aargh!! Why did fuckin’ key,” Dyck tells me. He wrote he say that? Those super secret, 75% of the new album, since 8 Ball super occult Enochian words are forrolled out of the picture last year to bidden, and now I have to dip my find himself in Ladies Night, Das wang in salt and sew a dead man’s Pussyhound, etc. “I could probably lips together and bury the corpse in count the swears on one hand, my garden (in Kits). Thanks, Chris maybe two,” he continues, in referDyck. ence to the Eag’s blossoming maturiThis world is a terrible and frightty. “The last record – every song had ening place – indeed, from the brutal cacophony of amounts of At least one person in the sirens and human needless wailing that I can band isn’t a sick, hairy, machismo and hear during our weirdo. That’s good to swearing. A lot conversation, I’m of ego.” Not amazed at how know. that the Eag’s short of a disnew stuff isn’t puffed up with selftance it is between downtown regard, too. The real difference is Vancouver and screaming bedlam. that it just sounds so much better. Mission, BC is where our tissue thin Is the Eag still friends with 8 Ball, veneer of society breaks down. It’s I ask. “Fuckin’ A, rights!” Dyck belHell’s waiting room, and teems with lows. “The guy’s my fuckin’ power killers, dead souls, and rejects with buddy! You can write that down, too. contaminated blood who treat the black arts like a shitty ass shell Power buddy. 8 Ball is the man, game. Low rent Vampires. How can always will be the man, and me and Dyck live like this? My heart cries for 8 Ball have a secret cult black metal him. project - a very evil, very chaotic, Even more so, I worry about Matt black metal project - and that’s all I – Chris Dyck’s younger brother and a can say about it. It’s a secret metal beautiful and precious flower. Two band. Dude, don’t write this down, years ago, he was still in short pants. but it’s gonna be called C******* T**

Now – to quote a former Nerve writer (female) – he is a knicker-soaking babe. “Fuck man,” comments his older bro. “At least one person in the band isn’t a sick, hairy, weirdo. That’s good to know. That doesn’t fuckin’ help my cause in any way though, does it? She was all, ‘That other fuckin’ brother, though. He looks like fuckin’ Ronnie Van Zandt, after the accident. Or Artemis Pyle after his first night in jail. Fuck.’” As a matter of fact, that’s almost exactly what she said. But moving along – when can we expect to hear this new platter, with its distinctly Unicorn-shaped odysseys into the plasma of the white man’s troubled soul? Probably never. “This is a challenge to anyone reading this,” states Dyck. “We need people to help us do this.” Capricorn Records – are you listening? Of course not! It’s 2005! Can Dyck at least give us the title? “We’ve got some in the works,” he says. “Should I throw down the real ones, or the funny, joke ones?” Both, I say. “Hellride into the Leather Storm,” he says. Ha ha, I say. Now tell me one of the real ones. “That is one of the real ones,” he replies, a little wounded. Oh. n

THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 7

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Cover Feature

Bedouin and the Pressure

By Adam Simpkinss

o be completely honest with you (and really, do you expect anything else?), when I was pitched the offer to do a feature on Bedouin Soundclash, my knee-jerk reaction was to pass on the assignment. Reggae rock by Ontario college kids? Not on my watch. A modern-day minstrel show embraced by weed-toking jocks? No thank you. What do they know about reggae (what do I know about reggae?) and who are they to jump in to bed with original roots legends on the one side (Vernon Buckley) and hardcore veterans (Bad Brains’ Darryl Jenifer) on the other? But The Nerve’s music editor is a pushy bugger, often forcing me to do things against my better judgment (someone help me) and before I knew it, I was deep in the annals of the library, researching, scribbling notes, and hoping to dig up some dirt on this crazy phenomenon. Try as I might, it pains me say I just couldn’t find anyone with a sour word to say about them. Hell, I even googled “Bedouin Soundclash sucks” and still came up with nothing. I wanted some gossip, rumours, libel, slander… anything would do. But no one seems to care that an alumnus from Point Grey’s exclusive boys-only St. George’s School is now fronting a roots band and writing songs like “Rude Boy Don’t Cry” and “Living in Jungles”, and there is rarely any mention of Jay Malinowski’s affected Bob Marleyesque vocals. What gives? On the contrary, respect for Bedouin Soundclash is accumulating at an alarming rate and few seem to care about such petty details like authenticity and cultural/social background. On top of that, the more I dug into their catalogue and personal histories, the more I came to accept Bedouin’s soul and conviction. Putting aside all impulses to the contrary, let me say for the record that Sounding a Mosaic deserves to be filed next to your Desmond Dekker or Jimmy Cliff albums. The Toronto-based three piece has

done its homework and certainly knows its way around writing a tune. That would be enough, but Bedouin’s music also traffics in positive vibes, jabs at the Man and biting social commentaries. With universal topics such as these, does it really matter who’s composing the music? Some might argue yes, others, you know, might say no. Eminem and the Beastie Boys were welcomed, albeit gradually, into the hip hop world without too much of a fuss, and hardcore kids were, for the most part, willing to let Bad Brains share the stage with them in the early ‘80s. So, if all fruits ripe, everyt’ing cook and curry. Right?

In order to further my investigation into this so-called Bedouin Soundclash, an interview with front man and reggae/soca/mento/calypso aficionado Jay Malinowski was in order. At the time of our conversation – Malinowski was calling from Leeds, in England - his band had just finished one of their remaining shows with the Ordinary Boys, the band’s UK touring partner for the past two weeks. Malinowski was either into his cups or run down from exhaustion (his band has been on the road for the past two years, after all) because most of his responses to my poised and eloquent questions were either misinterpreted or trailed off with a “we don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about us”. We discussed the new album, which has already been recorded and will probably be out early next year. With Daryl Jenifer behind the dials again, Malinowski promises this one to be “more of a songwriter’s album” with traces of gospel and calypso thrown in for good measure. But more importantly, he stresses, “It’s not like anyone will ever come out with a record like ours in the next six months”. Malinowski is confident that BS is completely in a league of their own, which he admits can be both a curse and a blessing. After recording

Sounding a Mosaic, their label (Stomp) was unsure if the album even had a single, and it took a Zellers commercial for “When The Night Feels My Song” to get major exposure. “That was a real eye-opening experience to see the single climb when no one really believed in it but us”, Jay says. “And now everyone believes in it, but now it’s kind of too late. We’re kind of like, you know what? It’s bullshit. Everything around us is bullshit”. Without said bullshit, mind you, the band probably wouldn’t have made such a big splash in the UK, where their album is doing quite well and they have just recorded a one-off single with Ian Broudie (Echo and the Bunnymen, the Coral, the Zutons) and Steve Harris (U2). This summer, BS had an opening slot at the Reading/Leeds festival alongside other notable Canucks Hot Hot Heat, the Arcade Fire and DFA1979; none of which Malinowski claims to care too much about. Asked if he congregated backstage with his fellow-countrymen, where they all rewarded each other with high-fives, he firmly states, “No, not at all. In fact, it was the opposite”. When questioned if he meant this to be “low-fives”, he seemed confused and mildly irritated. “I just don’t give a fuck. I mean, like, Canadian bands whether they come from Canada or whether they come from New Zealand, I couldn’t give a shit…” Very well then. This writer has had enough of those New Zealand Canadian bands too. What’s most odd, or instructive, is how the band is perceived in the UK, compared to in their home country. In these parts, Bedouin Soundclash has found itself pigeonholed as a “university” band – either because of its string of campus shows, or the simple fact that university kids like “When The Night Feels My Song” because - to that particular group of half-baked

co-eds - it vaguely sounds like Jack Johnson. Quite rightly, Jay will have none of this: “I don’t really give a fuck about people who think music should be a certain way,” he insists. “We don’t have a scene – I mean, university kids like our music? Fuck it. Great. We’ll play university gigs. Whoever wants to listen, we’ll play to them”. And to bring it all home: “And I think [having that attitude] is more punk rock than some guy who has a bunch of rules of what he thinks is right and what he thinks is wrong.” Which is all very noble and diplomatic, but really, that’s what the Soundclash is all about: being true to what they believe in and bucking the system. In the indie/punk circles, which Malinowski admits to abhorring, it may not be fashionable to be down with his band, at least for now. So what - he sneers at magazines like the NME (“…faggots that failed at whatever they

I don’t really give a fuck about people who think music should be a certain way

did. They have to rally around people like the Kaiser Chiefs to feel like they’ve accomplished something in life”), and anyone who claims they shouldn’t be doing what they are doing. And whether or not these utterances are legitimate, or born out of frustration from the legions of doubters, is up for debate. The fact remains that Bedouin Soundclash is not about to do anything different to appease its detractors – this is what they are and this is what they do. Like it or not, they don’t give a fuck and neither should you. n

THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 9

Buggin’ Out

Music

The King Khan & BBQ Show Reminisce about Ointment

classic albums - Winter Dance Party and Misbehavin’. The demise of the band made for a sad day in Canadian garage punk history. Fast forward half a decade - singer Mark Spaceshit (aka Mark Sultan aka BBQ) and bassist Blacksnake (aka King Khan) team up once again in the King Khan & BBQ Show, to the rabid delight of all persons of taste. They be coming to the Railway Club on November 25th, and Mr. BBQ was kind enough have a word or two with The Nerve.

By Mitsou Bootsauce

remember back in about the fall of ‘97 when the Spaceshits rolled thru town and were thrown on a last minute bill at The Columbia. They brought a combination of unbridled fun, snottiness and energy to an era that was, frankly, pretty fuckin’ dull. This naturally caught the ear of Sympathy For The Music Industry’s Long Gone John, who released both of their

Nerve: So you guys are currently in Brazil. How’s that going? Are you indulging in some Pinga? BBQ: Brazil is awesome, of course. Fitzcarraldo II. The tour is okay. Our booker is a total cuntbag, but it’s been fun and crazy. King Khan stepped in a puddle of Hepatitis J last night. I personally dislike Pinga, but somehow always get roped into drinking the shit. Nerve: It was almost exactly eight years ago that the both of you were last in Vancouver together, as the legendary Spaceshits. What activities d’you have lined up for this visit? BBQ: We actually lived in Vancouver for three

months or something. Beautiful place, great folks. But we were ultimately bored for whatever reason. I wanna see another naked hippie fight on Wreck Beach, eat sushi, and cruise Hastings for chicks. I’m actually really excited to go back. Nerve: Did you guys really get scabies from Sean Law’s spider-infested blankets when you stayed with him in Vancouver? BBQ: Sean’s place was – um - dirty and had roaches and shit, but we were a bunch of filthy kids anyway. The spider-blanket was something I bought at the Salvation Army for our shithole house we rented. I was waking up each day scratching like a maniac. I finally shook it out and thousands of baby spiders flew out. And the scabies... We stayed at some raver friend’s house, and I think we got it there. Or from stray cats we let live with us. That sucked. I remember King Khan walking in the living room, like, “What the fuck is this?” Holding his pomegranate-seed encrusted tool in hand. We had to all sit naked together for 24 hours covered in some kind of wonder-balm. It sucked. Nerve: What are the rest of the ‘shits doing these days? Last I had heard, Adam left during your tour with the Dirtys to shake ‘em down for his guitar they smashed. Then he moved to France? BBQ: We haven’t really talked to him much. He does his own thing. I think he lives in L.A. now. I could be wrong. Oily Chi is a great artist. He also has a band with Danny, the drummer, called the Milky Ways. Danny is also in a band now on Swami called CPC Gangbangs. Everyone is

We had to all sit naked together for 24 hours covered in some kind of wonder-balm. It sucked.

The Tranzmitors!

And Now, The Superdupergroup To End All Supergroups,

By Chris Walter

ream formed in 1966 and disbanded in 1968, producing three seminal studio albums in just over two years: Fresh Cream (1966), Disraeli Gears (1967) and Wheels of Fire (1968). A prolific and thrilling live act that won worldwide acclaim, Cream offered an extraordinary and explosive fusion of musical talents, egos, and styles. Comprised of guitarist Eric Clapton (The Yardbirds, John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers Oops, wrong supergroup. Pardon me all to fucking hell! The supergroup to which I refer is actually a Vancouver act, brought together by powerful forces far beyond the ken of mere mortals. This supergroup whose previous bands rival anything accomplished by those wimps the Beatles is also an explosive fusion of musical talents, egos, and styles. Yes, ladies and germs, I speak of none other but the fantastic and slightly mad Tranzmitors! Formed in the fall of 2004, the Tranzmitors are comprised of guitarist Jeffie Genetic (New Town Animals, Smugglers), bassist Fergus (Emergency, the Strike) drummer Bryce Dunn (Smugglers, Vindicators, New Town Animals) and guitarist Nick Thomas (Smugglers, Tonics, Bum).The Tranzmitors have not yet released any albums, but when they do, said albums are sure to generate worldwide acclaim and commercial success, but enough of my blathering!

Jeffie: I fought back until I realized that anal penetration felt good. The male joy bud is in the sphincter. Fergus: He got one punch in before I came. Nerve: Please, this is a family magazine! Jeffie: Well, it was a family-oriented rape. Bryce was filming it. The rest of the band watched it on videotape. It was like, “Oh, here’s where Fergus really gave it to him! And look at that queer little smile!” Nerve [moving quickly on]: Did you guys start all the trouble at the ill-fated Subhumans show at the W.I.S.E. Hall on October 1st? They said it was hippies from Whistler, but it seems more like something the Tranzmitors would start. Jeffie: Bryce tried to stop the fights, but he has this funny voice that probably just riled them up even more. He was like, “Ahhhhhh, guys… Ahhhhhh!” Fergus: They probably thought it was the bell ringing. “Ahhhhh!” It was funny, cause there was two guys rolling on the floor, and it was like one guy was trying to rape the other guy… Nerve: Back to the raping again? Jeffie: There was no mud around, so it wasn’t quite as exciting as we were hoping, but we tried to imagine those men naked, rolling around covered in mud… Nerve: Which guitar makes the best bludgeon? Do you go with the traditional Fender Precision bass, or do you like something lighter, a Gibson SG perhaps? Jeffie: You’re kidding me. You’re going to talk gear talk? Nerve: No, no, no, as a club! Which guitar makes the best club! Fergus: Definitely the P-bass. White, so you

The male joy bud is in the sphincter.

Nerve: I’ve heard that the Tranzmitors are a fightin’ band. Tell me about some of the more memorable fights you’ve had with other band members or the audience. Jeffie: Fergus raped me. Nerve: That’s not really fighting. You did fight back, right? PAGE 10 THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005

busy doing their shit. Nerve: You’ve been doing the BBQ ‘one man band’ project for a couple years now, managing to tour the USA, Europe and South America, not once, but twice! That’s gotta be more than any single Canadian musician has achieved in such a short timeframe, let alone Hasil Adkins (R.I.P.) BBQ: Yeah, I’ve toured a lot because I want to. Because I love rock’n’roll. It really isn’t that hard to tour, but people are scared to do it. I just don’t get any props, but that’s fine - I believe in my music. Nerve: I don’t wanna overstep my boundaries here, but could you please enlighten the readers as to what the deal is with The Secret Lodge Of The Kukamongas? Is this similar to a White Panther Party/Young Lions Conspiracy thing, or is it more of a Freemason/Water Buffalos deal? BBQ: Fuck The Young Lions and their fake affinity for Black Panther politics and shit. That’s so stupid, making light of Black America’s actual plight and real social issues, trivializing it and thinking they understand or are brothers in a cause. I call bullshit. The Kukamongas is a rock’n’roll brotherhood. No politics, just transient party business. There are members all over the world with, I think, 15 tattoos on great bands and real people. But now is the Death Cult. This is the end-all gang, literally. And we will destroy this world before it destroys us. n

can see the blood splatters. Jeffie: I hit someone with a Gibson once. Nerve: An SG, or a Les Paul? Jeffie: The SG. It’s a nice light guitar for swinging. This guy came onstage because he didn’t like my boots. I kicked at him, and then hit him with my guitar. No one in the band really saw what happened. They just saw me getting in a fight somehow. Then the bouncers dragged this guy off the stage and were fighting him - this was in Salt Lake City, I think - and dragged him to the stairs, and they fell down two flights and the guy broke his leg, and now he’s in jail! Nerve: Other than your prodigious fighting skills, do you have any other talents that Nerve readers should know about? Jeffie: Most guys just want to get in there, get the job done, and then back to the TV. But a good ‘personal lover’ - if you know what I’m saying - will not hesitate to spend 45 minutes

sitting on his hand just so he can give himself a good one. Nerve: Is it true that John Lydon asked Fergus to replace Glen Matlock for the next Sex Pistols tour? Jeffie: Yeah, that’s why he’s here right now. Nerve: Ooooo, that was so sarcastic! Okay, then, tell me how the Tranzmitors came together. Jeffie: It seemed that all our other bands all ended at exactly the same time, so we had nothing better to do except masturbate, which we’ve already talked about. So there you have it, folks, everything you will ever need to know about the fabulous Tranzmitors! True fact: The Tranzmitors will release five 7” singles before Christmas. n

The historic Albert Hall reunion concert. “Ginger” Dunn not pictured.

I’m Doing Evil

Music

Rich Hope Admits He Ain’t Afraid to Get Aggressive With Your Genitals

By Devon Cody

PHOTO: DEVON CODY

Universal. I say: it’s about goddamned time! Originally, the album was slated for early summer - and judging from the enthusiastic regulars who show up consistently at his shows, I am willing to place a wager that I’m not the only one who has been waiting impatiently for the record. Hell, I’m gonna buy me a case full of the fuckers and dole them out as Christmas presents this year. It’s that good. So what was the holdup? “We got to thinking that you can’t really work college radio or radio in general when you release something in the summer unless you’re a pretty established band,” explains Hope. Now that the timing is right, the package design has been determined, and the funds are there to properly promote the album, the label has set a release date for November 15th. I’ve always been told that some things are worth the wait. Ladies and gentlemen, this is one of those things. Hope did his fair share of waiting to even get this album on tape. It’s been over five years since he released any solo material. He tells I went down to the Crossroads / bought a double me that it was originally conespresso / Went down to the Crossroads / biscotti. ceived as an outlet for a bunch of acoustic songs that hen Rich Hope and his Evil Doers roll had been backlogged, inspired, and influenced into town, you can bet your first born in the time he played and toured with the now child that shit is going to go down and defunct John Ford. However, things don’t the lineup at the confession booth on Sunday always go as planned. “I’d been listening to a lot will be a little longer than usual. There will be of blues music and trying to write different stomping. There will be hollering. There will be songs, basic one chord blues riffs,” he says. “It dancing on tables. The potential for both perfec- just so happened that the stomp-and-holler tion and disaster will teeter daringly. Audience songs started happening really easily, and members may strip down and steal the mic. became the most fun. So I was just like, well, I There will be broken glass and a whole lot of want to make the record more like that. And of sweat. There will be proudly worn aches ‘n’ all the stuff I’ve done so far, I am most satisfied pains to accompany the next day’s hangover. with this record.” Asked whether there was There will also be moments that compel you to something in particular, personal or otherwise, simply stop and listen and marvel at this band that made the blues appeal to him at this point in and its leader’s ability to his life, Hope responds command your attention bluntly: “Probably just with the most dangerously being sick of everything infectious, vital, and else.” He punctuates the earnest music coming out statement with an impish of Vancouver right now. grin. It was at last year’s Well Dr. Hope has Festival of Guns that I was definitely brewed up the first exposed to Rich Hope right medicine. Yakking and His Evil Doers. about his favourite bluesActually, for this particular men, Hope recalls, bassist Ryen show, “Someone turned me on Froggat, aka Chicken to Junior Kimbrough. I Wing, was lying in a pool think it was Gordie of blood and urine in his Johnson. When (John bathroom, probably with Ford) did tours with Big the same pained expression he gets on his face Sugar, Gordie would have it playing before when he’s shaking his thing on stage. Hope, shows. I had heard of Junior Kimbrough before, consequently, was only accompanied by a sinbut it wasn’t until then that I really listened to him gle Evil Doer that evening – drummer Adrian and I was like, “wow, this is something else.” In Winston Churchill III. Despite the truncated linereference to a comment I made earlier about the up, they still played with the vigour of two mothsexy trance-inducing nature of slow blues, he erfuckers in a maternity ward, opening with a adds, “You want sexy music? Kimbrough makes rowdy blues-rock slide guitar lick that had every sexy music. That guy had, like, 38 kids… and it’s bit as much primal intensity as any punk rock no wonder.” shout-a-long. The song was “Shake this Joint So what can an uncorrupted newcomer Around” – and indeed they were doing just that. expect from Rich and his Evil Doers? He I was hooked. I stood there fixated, letting the extends this odd, yet accurate invitation, “It’s for chills vibrate in my spine. The little hairs on my you… I want it to be entertaining. I’m a song and neck and arms danced along with the crowd. dance man. If it means sometimes that I gotta Over a year after recording, it looks like get out there in the crowd and kick you in the Hope’s album is finally being released. He’ll join nuts, then I’m going to. I want to know that the likes of Randy Bachman and Rodney you’re really there. It’s alive. It’s live music, not DeCroo on local jazz and roots label Maximum just standing there staring at your fuckin’ shoes.”n

If it means that I gotta get out there in the crowd and kick you in the nuts, then I’m going to.

Brother Love’s Traveling Damnation Show

The Stumbler’s Inn - seconds before getting smashed with a huge mallet

By Dave Bertrand

one night, and run into these guys from this eep in the mire of southeast Vancouver is porn-funk band Slow Nerve Action. After an a crusty little shack making a lot of noise – it’s Command HQ for a quartet of tal- hour-long talk, they said we could open for them… So we packed the show. It was at The ented backwater ragamuffins called the Silvertone. Almost everyone left when Slow Stumbler’s Inn. Here’s the lowdown: three real brothers from Nanaimo, Jeff, Al, and Graham (in Nerve Action went on - and then they didn’t pay us. I was like, “So, how much did we make?” order of descending age and increasing height) “Well, posters cost this much, and this costs that – who’s childhood babysitter happened to be a much...” I think they got choked at us or somehot, young, pre-Starbucks Choice Diana Krall plus “adopted” brother Chuck. Together, they thing. We figured that was our introduction to the music business – playing a show and not getting bust out some of our fair city’s simplest and dick. finest pure-bred bongified honk n’ roll. This conNerve: What’s up with the bus in your backversation was absolutely conducted under the yard? influence. Nerve: A little familial and musical history, Chuck: Well, it’s a school bus, and we’re gonna please. fix her up and use her as a tour vehicle. Put Al: We had a pretty musical family – my Mom’s some bunk beds in it. Drive her around. Road Dog! a piano teacher, my Dad played sax in a rock n’ Nerve: She doesn’t have a female name? roll band. We all wore maroon jackets! Graham: Lady Road Dog! Graham: Growing up we all had to take piano, Al: Any fuckin’ female thing that has an engine, though we weren’t ideal students or what you’d I call a ‘dirty slut’ or a ‘whore’. call a ‘musical family’. [awkward silence] Al: It was by no means Partridge. Graham: The last fucking thing any of us want- Graham: That is a shit name… It sucks. ed to be was a brothers band. For the first two Jeff: Name it The Stumblette, or something. and a half years of this band, we wouldn’t even Al: Our fuckin’ bus isn’t a chick, man. It’s a admit it to people. The fuckin’… That’s Road ‘brothers thing’ is just Dog! Fuckin’ it’s not When you got brothers the worst… like the gonna be Tweedle-dee or Tweedle-dum. It’ll be Brothers Gibb. fighting, it’s like fisticuffs Nerve: And Jeff, even Road Dog. Me and though he’s the oldman. There are times where Chuck are gonna est, was the last to fuckin’ overhaul that litwe’ll be jumping over seats tle slut. join the group? Graham: When we and punching each other out, Nerve: What’s the story behind the new found out he was movlike brawls album’s wicked cover ing over, we figured: art? have Jeff show up. If he plays with us and Graham: Adam Gandy it’s good, he’s in the band. If he plays with us went out and he painted that house, which is a and it sucks, we have to figure out how Jeff’s not real house on 11th and Oak. That house, it’s going to be in the band. just… creepy. Al: All you had was that faggy little Casio or Nerve: Could you tell me about some of your whatever the fuck that was. songs? Is Sally Joe a girl you know? Graham: It’s hard being brothers because… Al: Yeah man! That’s a real woman. Basically, it’s therapy. I fuckin’ never went to rehab or any When you get into a fight, that fight is twenty of that kind of shit. Everything I do, I get myself years old. into it, I get myself out… A song like “My Friend” Al: And every fucking band fights… but when you got brothers fighting, it’s like fisticuffs man. – I never fuckin’ blew no one’s head off. But that’s almost my tribute to Johnny Cash. I love We’ll be jumping over seats and punching each Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, fuckin’ Waylon other out, like brawls. Chuck is the most neutral guy you ever met in your life. That’s why he’s the and Willie, all these old boys. There’s been so many times where you’re down and out, and most valuable member of this band right now. there’s nothing else you can do but just sit and He’s so calm, he just displays the right path in fuckin’ drink. And you listen to these old songs, so many ways. Fuck, he rules. Nerve: Chuck, how does it feel to have three and it’s like, “Man, this guy knows.” There’s times where I felt like I was maybe in a space to brothers stroke your cock? communicate that sort of story too. Chuck: My head gets as big as a balloon. Nerve: Has the Stumbler’s Inn ever been Nerve: Any last advice? douched? Graham: If you come to our show and eat some Graham: We’re practicing twice a week, jam- mushrooms or smoke some dope, you will have ming six hours straight each time, so we’re like, the best experience you can possibly imagine.n “We need a show.” I have a mental breakdown THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 11

Music

By Phil Heidenreich

ver walked out of a hardcore show feeling more than a little cynical? Sometimes it’s the clued-out homeboy who mistakenly thinks he’s part of DMS, while other times it might be the closet fascist who spouts off about commies, immigrants, and gays, but “hates Nazis”. Once in a while, thankfully, a band comes around to re-affirm your faith in the genre. Hard Grace, the debut full-length from Montreal’s Union Made, combines thunderous hardcore with hard-hitting, intelligent, class-conscious lyrics that amazingly match the band’s sonic fury. Formed out of the ashes of Fate 2 Hate, Union Made’s brand of “revolutionary hardcore” was born when Nic (ex-Street Troopers) brought his politics and voice to the table. Here’s an abbreviated version of an interview I did with him.

Nerve: Aside from your involvement, how is Union Made different from Fate 2 Hate? Nic: Musically, an original guitarist (Rich) came back and the two previous ones that were truly into metal left. ‘80s NY hardcore is now our main influence. Our band is finally stable around the four of us. The vocals and melodies are much closer to early Cro-Mags. Lyric wise, it is more political and I am more at ease writing in English. Nerve: It seems you really embrace politics, or at least aren’t afraid to confront them. Is the band united in what you try to convey?

Nic: We agree on the grand scale of things. We are not all politically active, but... The band is strongly anti-capitalist and promotes collectivist values in every aspect of society. We promote a working class consciousness.

Nerve: On “Left Standing There” you talk about the difficulty in persevering within the skinhead and hardcore way of life. Have there ever been times you’ve felt disillusioned? Nic: Of course, it is bound to happen to anyone that has been in the scene for a while. That song Nerve: What’s the Montreal scene like? My was written a while back when Montreal SHARP impression is always that it’s somewhat (Skinheads Against Racial Prejudice) faded out. divided on a number of fronts. How have Either adapt, or stay bitter and get off the train. things changed since your Street Troopers The recipe to hanging in there is to expect the days? worse from everyone but hope for the best. It Nic: Actually, it is pretty united right now in the might seem cynical, skinhead scene. but it works. Hell, it’s Redskins are the Reality will often kick your allowed us to start a majority, and the rest new hardcore band, holy principles into the gutter. are deeply anti-fasand we’ve now got cists and everyone the most solid crew hangs out together. (RASH - Red and Anarchist Skinheads) The hardcore scene has all these different Montreal has ever known. crowds for different bands, but that is not necessarily a problem to me. Nerve: On “Back It Up” you talk about hardcore bands that claim to be apolitical, to get Nerve: Do you think music can be used as away with saying things without being held vehicle for socio-political change? What accountable. Do you think this attitude has compromises do you feel bands should be always existed in the scene? Do you think allowed in terms of getting their message it’s getting worse? out?

From the bleak and frozen reaches of the Northwest Territories comes a band so unspeakably vile, so utterly demented, that there are no words suitable with which to describe them. Yes, my friends, I speak of…

SIP

YEK

By Chris Walter

Sip Yek Nom is:

Zak Attack: brutalis guitaris onslaughtus Cheesebread: pots and pans Slamrod: bloody throat face slash gentle organism Tugboat: drunk guy Nerve: So, you guys are from Antarctica. Do you hang out with Gwar? Sip: Uh, not so much hang out with them as get ass raped and pillaged by them alongside our fellow northland villagers every 60 moons or so. Yeah, legend has it they like to holiday up here PAGE 12 THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005

Nic: Wow, I wish I could have stated that so clearly. It probably always existed, especially south of the border, but at different levels. I think it will get better. For a while, Earth Crisis was the most popular political band in hardcore. Then apolitical flag-waving bands with borderline racist lyrics became tolerable. The latest stuff is about tough guy attitudes - Throwdown for example. People are bound to get bored with it and look for bands talking about broader issues that affect their lives as working class people.

NOM

in the Northwest Territories - damn good fishin’. Nerve: What’s the difference between the Northwest Territories and Antarctica? I’ve heard that monkey piss freezes into cubes before it hits the ground up there. How do you keep your balls from falling off? Sip: Antarctica is a cold and desolate wasteland, and so is the NWT. There is no difference. We train our sled dogs to suck on our nuts. One time we had to winter inside the corpse of a giant musk ox. Its meat was pure, its blood was rich. We grew fat and completely mad. Nerve: Have you seen any good wax museums lately? Is it true that music by Sip Yek Nom causes wax statues to melt?

Sip: Actually, that’s what we do in our spare time - create wax sculptures of important figures throughout the history of mankind. The wax statues do melt, but not at first. When our music is played before them, they come alive. They dance, and fuck, and when the music stops they melt, they melt away… But for one moment, they were alive! Truly alive! Next question. Nerve: I’ve heard that the Dayglo Abortions can be very demanding of bands from Antarctica. Which of you was in charge of giving Gymbo his sponge bath? Sip: Bonehead would usually call shotgun on that one. Nerve: When you talk about getting good exposure on tour, you’re talking about frostbite, right? Sip: Have you ever had frostbite? It’s nothing to joke about! You southlanders, you think you’re so fucking clever. I lost 75% of my body to frostbite. Next question! Nerve: What do vegans think when they find out you only eat raw fucking meat? Sip: They think we’re bloodthirsty savage barbarians feasting on the flesh of other living breathing creatures of Mother Earth. They think our lust for meat comes from Satan himself. Their feelings are cast from pits of fear, fear that we will eat them that we will feed on their flesh, which we may. So keep eating your lettuce, little vegan. Get nice and plump! Nerve: In high school, were you the guys who did the beating, or were you the guys who did the running? In general, how do people respond to punk rock in the Antarctica? Sip: Here in the northlands there is no school, we simply survive. We have to fight every day.

Nic: Culture in general has always been a vehicle for social-political change. Theatre was the main progressive cultural political vehicle for a long time. (It’s) a good question because reality will often kick your holy principles into the gutter. Bands like Rage Against the Machine didn’t compromise their message. As for the major or independent label dilemma, every band has to make a decision they can live with. Bands like System of a Down didn’t change their music. In fact, it got crazier.

Nerve: Hardcore dancing - do you see a lot of this at shows? Is ninja-core the next frontier? Nic: Yeah, we do see kung-fu fighting demonstrations at shows, but skinheads are not into that dancing and that is half of our crowd. We are too old to start learning those moves without putting our backs out live! That would look great on a DVD.

Nerve: What are Union Made’s plans in the foreseeable future? Nic: Tour as much as we can with our new album, Hard Grace, and hopefully inspire HC bands to sing about broader issues instead of making alternate breakdown versions of the popular classic “Hangin’ Tough” from New Kids On the Block. For tour dates, check the band’s label’s website at www.insurgence.net

Fight to live, live to fight… Or die! People respond to punk rock many ways up here. You’ve got your knee-tappin’ folk, your angry, drunkin’, cursing old man type. Then there’s the hot little bitches that worship everything we do. But mostly you’ve got the “Get the fuck off the stage!” types. Nerve: Sip Yek Nom did a free concert to satisfy the requirements for an Arts Council grant. Did you also sacrifice a few virgins to satisfy your contract with Satan? Sip: Who told you that? We would never take money from the pig! Fuck the pig! What kind of web of lies do you have us tangled up in here? First of all, we would never play for free… Everyone knows we play for $2500 and four hot chicks on stage with coke on their tits. But yes, we did sacrifice a few virgins for Satan, or at least we told him they were virgins… Gawdamn! Nerve: What do you do for kicks in the Antarctica when you aren’t on tour? Are there any safe ways to have sex with a polar bear? Sip: Mark my words - there are no safe ways to have sex with a polar bear. However, once tranquilized, there is no sweeter feeling than the hot vagina of a large white bear. In addition to that, we also enjoy playing guns and building forts. Nerve: Is snowmobile jousting as much fun as it sounds? Sip: C’mon, there’s no such thing as snowmobile jousting, get real here! But, let me tell about a little thing we like to call huffing gas. Whatever works to numb the pain of existence, my friend. Maybe a gas huff-induced snowmobile joust is exactly what the doctor ordered. I bid you farewell!

Let me tell you about a little thing we like to call huffing gas.

e . , e . e

Rockabilly By Sean Law

Is Good Food The Farrell Brothers This Is A Riot Stumble

The nucleus of this band (Shawn and Gordie Farrell) has done everything off of their own backs up until now. This is their fourth disc, but the first one for another label. Over the years, they have changed styles, band members and even which instruments they play. This disc rocks hard, more derivative of 1980s rockabilly than its 1950s predecessor. Twelve tracks, and they are all originals. Solid songs, recording and packaging: a hep trifecta! I’ve dug all their releases, but this one definitely trumps the others. Cool headgear, Gordie!

Alley Dukes

Northern Rednecks Flying Saucer

If the Nerve magazine was a rockabilly band, that band would be the Alley Dukes. Not recommended for the politically correct amongst us, the subject matter on this debut platter includes: fuckin’, drinkin’, fuckin’, VD, ass fuckin’, masturbation, and rockin’. Did I mention fuckin’? Definitely not for the ‘nostalgia’ or ‘oldies’ set, this disc will appeal more to the earthy, greasy types out there. The music is energetically played neorockabilly. Great recording job here with a prominent double bass doused in echo. 14 tracks, four of which are covers; they successfully tackle Jim Foley, Jericho Jones, (or the Polecats, depending on whose version you’re familiar with), Hasil Adkins (no mean feat!) and David Allan Coe. All instruments sound great. Electric guitarist Zak Duke has absorbed the influence of a number of the masters, and is almost as good as Brian Setzer. Almost. Great rockin’ debut!

Mad Sin

Young, Dumb and Snotty Cargo

l o

Another European ‘psycho’ band that came to the fore in the late 1980s, Mad Sin are from Germany. These tracks are culled from their first four albums, released between 1988 and 1993. Sonically, Mad Sin are not much different than the Nekromantix, though with a slightly more rockabilly feel to some of the tracks (but still not quite enough to float my boat). The sound quality is strong, but the material is relatively weak (nothing overly memorable here). At least they had the decency to include an informative booklet with liner notes by singer Koefte, a bunch of gig posters and tons of photographs of the band and their fellow psychobillies (including one of Yours Truly).

e f ? … t , t ! e e r

o r e s g a . , -

e r . s u

Music

The Nekromantix

Brought Back To Life (Again) Hellcat

I’d love to tell you more about the origins of this reissue disc, but those drug addicts at Hellcat sent us the wrong bio info cut and pasted into the release sheet. As near as I can figure this is a reissue of a record that came out in 1992, when the original line-up of the Nekromantix (Kim Nekroman plus the Saandhorf brothers) had broken up. The Saandhorf Bros. have since re-joined and then resplit from the band, so draw your own conclusions. But back to 1992: I saw this record’s line-up play at a psychobilly festival in Great Yarmouth and they were unremarkable. As is this record. The label is touting it as, “What you’ve been DYING for: The reissue of a PSYCHOBILLY Classic”. I say: Horseshit. The Meteors In Heaven is a Psychobilly Classic. The Guana Batz first LP is a Psychobilly Classic. I’m not even sure that I’d call this release ‘Psychobilly’, let alone a ‘Classic’. Definitely one they should have left in the Vault. THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 13

Victorian Pork: This Ain’t No Partridge Family Music

2005

PHOTO: LYNN MCDONAGH

yet. But as we know, truth is stranger than fiction, and in the year 1999, that day did indeed arrive. “We thought we would resurrect the band just to dredge up the same old shit,” grins Tony, as I drink coffee with him and daughter Alexa on Commercial Drive. “But when Alexa started writing songs, I thought maybe we could turn (left) full compliit into something ment of Pork new.” And new it is. (above) single cock- With guitarist/vocalist Alexa’s songs, tail weiner Victorian Pork - who play Festival of Guns on Friday, November 18th, at Pub 340 - now has one foot in the past, and

1977

PHOTO: BEV DAVIES

By Chris Walter

one foot in the present, thus pissing on today. In pre-Skulls ’77, Victorian Pork was a veritable revolving door of notable Vancouver punk rockers, and everyone from Joey Shithead to Zippy Pinhead and Wimpy Roy did time in the band. “I think Gerry Useless was in there at one point,” says Tony, scratching his head. “But I can’t say for sure.” Alexa nods sympathetically at her father’s less-than-stellar memory. My own memories of 1977 are equally foggy. Didn’t Elvis Presley die that year? “Why use the name Victorian Pork if you’re the only original member, and the entire concept of the band has changed?” I ask. “You used to do all covers, but now you focus on original material.” Tony shrugs. “It seemed like the punk thing to do, to steal the name. It [Victorian Pork] has been wrong since the beginning, so how could it be more right?” I can’t argue with that. In fact, I like the quote so much I think they should print T-shirts that say, ‘Victorian Pork: Wrong Since 1977’. The rain falls, and I sit thinking how cool it would be

Hot N’ Nasty!

t is very unlikely that when bassist Tony “Twilight” Bardach joined Victorian Pork with seminal Vancouver punks Chuck Biscuits (drums) Brad Kunt (guitar), and Ian Tiles (vocals) that he knew he would one day share the stage with a daughter who hadn’t been born

to rock out with my own offspring. Surely, this must be better for family unity than camping trips or hockey games. What could be better than turning up the Marshall stacks and blasting out the ol’ punk rock? Who needs traditional family values when you can go out and make some ears bleed? Alexa, quiet and reserved, has to think for a moment when I ask her how long she’s been playing guitar. “I started when I was ten or eleven,” she says, modestly. I try to picture her as the 17-year-old hellion I saw working the crowd at the Pic Pub in 2000, but fail. How could this seemingly harmless girl inflict that kind of damage? Why, with the help of her father, of course. By the time this issue hits the streets, Victorian Pork will have played on Oct 29th, and I’ll have been there, watching with awe as this combo pummels the crowd senseless with their punk rock mayhem. If you’re smart, you’ll have been there, too. n

By Boy Howdy

hat the fuck ever happened to a good arena show? Are we destined to a life that excludes every soul shaking, hip-swaying, boogie-upyour-ass moment that made the church of high-octane rawk n’ roll the saving grace of all pimpledom? Where have all the rockers gone? It all went terribly wrong, but it’s coming back – enter, stage right, the rock ‘n’ roll machine known as Midnight Dragon. Lead Dragon Chris Read sat down with me between belts of tequila and some Buck Owens tunes to rip a yarn or two about concealed weapons, growing up “Alberta style” and Hungarian Elvises. In tune with rock’s storied past, Chris asks y’all the VERY musical question, “What’s wrong with pilgrimages to the Joshua Tree to hang out and drink $100 bottles of tequila and do snowflake-sized flakes of Peruvian?” Quickly bringing the masses up to snuff on the germination of the aptly named Midnight Dragon (Chris: “I liked the sleaziness of the name, people think it’s a massage parlour, or some new kind of opi-

ate.”), Chris lays it out. Stuck in NYC, broke and completely fucking down on his luck, things actually looked up after stumbling upon a seedy Korean market which had these, “super cheap 40 oz bottles o’ malt liquor – so cheap you were like, I’m not gonna buy this! There’s gotta be something wrong with it.” True to the higher powers of the demon rock ‘n’ roll, said 40s – called, appropriately enough, Midnight Dragon - were, as Chris is quick to point out, “fucking delicious!” “Fucking delicious” may well best describe the mighty Dragon as they cut a thunderous swath through the Vancouver rock scene with all the raw power of a Tylenol #5 sized headache. Featuring an all-star pedigree culled from veterans of such bands as the BTUs (Marcel “the Kid” LaFleur); John Ford (Chris Read) and the Spitfires (C.C. “Cheech” Voltage, Jay “Hungus” Solyum), along with fret burner extraordinaire “Crazy” Erol Sora, the band’s self-described “boogie-rawk” struts and churns in all of the prescribed places. That it’s taken this long for the demon boo-

gie to rise again in No Fun City is a fucking shame – Midnight Dragon have made the wait a worthwhile one to say the least! A man of esteemed good taste, Chris makes no apologies for what Midnight Dragon bring to the table. They lay down some dirty and deep-fried boogie that will set the table with the lovely ladies and increase even the biggest loser’s chances of getting laid. As veterans, they fully understand the lost art of shooting from the hip and aiming at the crotch. Fans of Exile-era Stones, the Allman Brothers, Jerry Reed, and Lefty Frizell take note of some sage advice from Chris: “It’s about the songs motherfucker – we don’t want to see shtick… Just listen to the first Crazy Horse record and listen to Danny Whitten sing!” So, if you have ANY balls, head on down to check out Midnight Dragon on November 17th at the Brickyard, and if you are buying – and we know you are – it’s Olneca Extra Aged Fine Tequila, because with these hard livin’ and hard drinkin’ titans, it’s always Saturday night! n

Want Your Ass Kicked, Whitey?

Rod Iron Haulers Will Oblige By Boy Howdy

PHOTO: GORDAN DUMKA

How many fags does it take to open a bottle? Five.

PAGE 14 THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005

ailing from the fertile musical breeding ground of Victoria BC long remembered as the home front for such enduring legends as NoMeansNo, the Dayglo Abortions, Bum, and the Infamous Scientists there is a new skool of dirty-assed rawk 'n' roll that is rearing itself like pus on a deep wound, like raw power on a rollercoaster ride, like carsandchicksandrawkandroll - fuck me, it's the Rod Iron Haulers! Screaming out their “no more bullshit” mantra over a thunderous bottom end (relentless drummer Shon, slinky new bassist Jonny) and the super highenergy twin guitar attack of Christian and Dave, is lead sneer/throat Steeeeeeeev. I recently managed to carry on a VERY unbefitting email interview with Steev that will, hopefully, get you off your lazy asses to check them out as they tear the goddamned roof off the Brickyard on November 19th, when they roll into town like the 18-wheeled motherfucker your mama told you to

PHOTO: ADRIAN O’BRIEN

Midnight Dragon is Off the Wagon and On the Rails

The Great Gazoo always shows up at the stupidest times.

watch out for. Steev managed to put up with my needling - their old bassist left this awesome, propulsive machine to [insert hardy chuckle here] “model” and we got down to the business of what makes the Rod Iron Haulers haul. I must admit, the Rod Iron Haulers are the best band ever to get their name off the side of a truck (the Young Fresh Fellows scooping best song nicked from a truck with “Rock and Roll Pest Control”). In fact, the Haulers have held their own with the self-proclaimed (and seldom argued) best live band in the world, the Supersuckers. Steev recalls this experience for us, “the first time it was intimidating. I mean, c'mon, it's the Supersuckers! Then you meet someone and you realize we're all just a bunch of dudes!” Luckily for the Haulers, they are true to their own succinct and extremely flammable style (listen to Turbonegro's “Rock Against Ass” for a suitable reference), as Steev points. “High performance, goose bump raising, drag machine rock,” he says. NICE!

A mutual love affair with the Spitfires is easily understood when you listen to their new self-titled rekkord. Recorded by Hauler's guitarist Dave Coish, the songs are a relentless attack, spewing out the kind of fiery gin & tonic-soaked riff-o-rama that we all like to hear while hoarse from gallivanting and drunk with a purpose. It's a testament to the respect commanded by the Haulers that the departure of a bassist to evolve like a butterfly into a catwalk gay boy has not in any way led to a lot of cheap jokes and beatdowns. As Steev is quick to point out, “We're the Haulers, we never get hassled and we're happy for him - he found his calling!” In fact, Steev holds his own with this writer by being savvy enough to display a non-irritating cockiness, quick wit and love of a good time, and that separates the Rod Iron Haulers from the rest of the high-energy pack. C'mon Vancouver, roll up those sleeves, empty the bank account and for Christ's sake - do not limp out here! n

Journey to the Centre of the Mike

Music

Beloved Cereal Eating Tot Does Drugs, Hates Third World

The Smokes

This man has just read the Nerve’s interview with Mikey Manville

Go Yell “The Banshee” At Them

By Simon Illrote

he Nerve asked for a sober and professional interview with the Smokes, but I felt it would be funnier to just stalk them. So I tried eavesdropping on their mundane daily conversations, spied on them from the bushes by their houses at 3 o’ clock in the morning, and - this is the one that worked best – I went to a few of their shows. Based in the cracked out wasteland that we all affectionately refer to as East Van, the band’s core is comprised of singer/drunk Ryan Hoben, and guitarists/farm boys Evret Tucker and Kalvin Olafsson. In recent times, though, it appears that the Smokes have recruited a permanent bass player who refuses to have his name disclosed, lest he be identified as the guy from his other band.

I know, I thought it sounded kind of strange too, but then I’m drunk all the time. Reflecting self-indulgently in the company of perfect strangers, Ryan elaborates on one of his band’s more memorable shows: “I was sober as fuck... I had like eight or nine beers”. Needless to say, his friends are afraid to ask him whatever came of his wine collection. Similarly, no one really knows exactly what happened the night before the morning Evret came home to find a naked jockey in his bed, but these matters are best left unexplored. Oddly, bringing the subject up in public seems to make Kalvin uncomfortable. So what do these prairie boys and wannabe prairie boys bring to the table

Knife Wielding Maniacs Set to Infiltrate Canadian Border Black Eyes and Neckties Want to Stab You

By Devon Cody

ost foreign musicians and Canadian promoters would rather suck a turd to a point and stab out their eyes than deal with Canada Customs. As a result, this year’s Festival of Guns is host to only one band that is not native to Canadian soil – Bellingham-based Black Eyes and Neckties. These stealthy Yanks have devised a plan to smuggle themselves and their gear across the border for your listening and viewing pleasure on Friday 18th, at the Lamplighter. After their original scheme to dig an underground tunnel to an undisclosed location in Surrey aroused suspicions from authorities, they were forced back to the drawing table. Being an inquiring mind, I asked them for details of their new plan. Guitarist Ryan Cadaver complied briefly, hesitated, and then - suddenly halted by distinctly American conspiracy theorist paranoia - refused to reveal any more. It’s obvious that he trusts no one. Unfortunately, Cadaver made me promise not to unveil any details about their border-crossing plan in print. When they are not looking respectable and splitting up into separate nondescript vehicles loaded with bits of their stage gear telling officials they are only on their way to band practice, Black Eyes and Neckties crank out a feral brand of rock akin to Murder City Devils. They even have a keyboard player who is every bit as dangerously hot as Devils keyboardist Leslie Hardy. In addition, frontman Bradley Horror’s wails

you ask? What does this musical enchilada taste like, you demand to know? I’ll tell you: it’s a rather unique brand of country-flavoured alt-rock, or alt-countryflavoured rock, or rock-flavoured altcountry, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. Genre classifications are for assholes anyway. Fuck it, sometimes they sound like James Brown meeting Rick James in a redneck brothel, and I mean that in the best way possible - and partly because some dude kept yelling ‘The Banshee’ at them between songs. Suffice to say, these guys have happened on a fine balance of some of the more important aspects of rock ‘n’ roll: cleverly composed songs, inventive instrumentation, and an almost absolute refusal to sport mullets. And the best part? They don’t even take themselves that seriously. Doesn’t this all sound like fun? Of course it does! Unless you’re retarded. Go see them on Saturday, 19th at The Railway Club, and you too can yell ‘The Banshee’ at them. n

have the same urgent, anguished quality as those of Spencer Moody. Bradley also shares Moody’s well-fed body shape and curly golden locks. Guitarist Josh Homicide tells me, “When we get the Murder City Devils comparisons, it’s rarely negative. People seem to like our take on the whole distraught-rock thing.” Indeed all image nonsense aside, you couldn’t find a more fervent group to pick up the torch from the Devils and commit arson on your ass until you get up off it and dance. With all pleasures of the flesh comes a little pain. A Black Eyes and Neckties show is no different. It is not uncommon for wildly flung guitars to send fellow band members’ blood running red. Drummer Davey Crypt offers even better reason to get moving on the dance floor at a Black Eyes show, “At our first show we were just about to finish our last song. Brad, our singer, was out in the crowd singing and dancing and for some reason he had a Rambo knife. The last note was dramatic and drawn out, and as soon as we hit it Brad spun around and flung the knife behind his head back towards us. I don’t think anyone knew what happened until it was found lodged into a piano about a foot away from where Ryan was playing a few minutes earlier.” I am left wondering whether or not I should have made that “well-fed” comment about Brad earlier. If you find me at the show with a Rambo knife in my eye, I guess you’ll know why. n

PHOTO:KELCEY DAMAGE

stab him in the leg. Very industrial and gothic.” I wouldn’t know anything about this type of behaviour in the underground goth rock scene. Mikey explains excitedly while spilling water on his shirt, “I went to a couple of goth shows. Lots of leg stabbing!” I try to bring the interview back on track by asking Mikey if having the band’s promo t-shirts manufactured by Gilden is an implicit way of acknowledging its support of war in Haiti. He ignores my trap. “Well, the lyrics that I attribute to the music seems to have a political edge at times,” he obfuscates. “We’re revolutionizing how music is created. Who’s going to survive in 20 years after the iPod? What I’m trying to say… Yeah this is getting heavy…” I remind him of the actual question. “Oh right, so what I’m trying to say is - the Manvils are trying to write music and have fun with it. The point is - the only way we’ll sponsor the war is maybe getting our shirts made in Asia.” Skipping past his geographical ignorance, I ask him what he considers to be the biggest threat facing music – who the real terrorists are, if you will and Mikey counsels me on acceptance. “You need that shitty pop,” he intones. “War is the only thing that keeps the real thing in the world fighting something. People speaking their mind and doing creative things. Yes, I condone 98 Degrees and all the boys for working out.” Mikey had finally stepped into a conversational realm that was simply out of my reach, and we continued on in separate dimensions for the rest of the interview. n

PHOTO: ADRIAN O’BRIEN

itting with Mikey Manville, of psychedelic psycho-rock group the Manvils, it takes about a minute for me to accept that my questions are completely irrelevant to his answers. His first few words on any given subject are quickly carried off on a tangent of deep thought, often inconclusive. We start with Mars bars. Mikey feels the amount of nougat in the Mars bar makes it inferior to Snickers. “See, I love Ted Nugent,” he begins, “And I love his music, but nougat should not be sold in a chocolate bar. Mars is overkill on the nougat.” Asked to estimate how many Ted Nugent albums would fit in a Mars bar, Mikey admits that he doesn’t know anything about the guy. What does he know anything about, then? “I guess that would be the collective of the band completely rocking out. The only thing we really worry about is giving it our full nougat,” he replies, laughing quietly to himself. Mikey’s introduction to the rest of the group – who will blow up the Lamplighter on November 18th as part of Festival of Guns – initially took place in a video store. “We had the intensity we were looking for and I felt that,” he explains. “The other guys… their hair was kind of, woah!” The story gets a little vague after that. “Maybe we will be bald one day,” he says. “That’ll be my shining moment, when all of us are bald. Yeah, this has nothing to do with hair. I’d never tell a band member which way to part it. Everyone wakes up with their hair, and it seems to...” His voice trails off, again. “I’m losing it a little bit, uh… When the band all shaves their heads, it’s a sign they’re going for the industrial sort of thing. When someone plays a bad note, we’ll just, like,

PHOTO:DEVON CODY

By Laura Matsue

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Music

Bootlegging!

Not Just for Deadheads and Nerds Anymore

By Michael Mann

magine my excitement when, after attending a kick-ass rock concert, I stumbled across a bootleg of the show online a week later. This wasn’t some dude with a $20 tape recorder, Grateful Dead, ‘let’s all freak on acid’ bullshit. It was a pro recording that totally captured the magic and energy of the show. Conveniently, he left his contact info in an nfo file, which pirates tag their work with, to let you know who did it so they can get online props from fellow pirates. I got in touch with him to get him to fill us in on that the whole sordid business of bootlegging a concert. I learned his name is Andrew Gursky and he’s in his infancy of bootlegging shows. When asked what got him into it, he coolly responds, “I’d been to a lot of great concerts and wanted to bring back a memory from each show I attended.” While he’s only been at it for about a year and a half he already has an impressive collection of gear. He recently invested in, “a Nomad Jukebox 3, Sound Professional cardioids microphones and a battery box with bass roll off to amplify the signal to the microphones and also allow control of how much bass the recording was getting.” He adds “This is considered a ‘beginner’ rig in some circles, the price can get pretty high on some setups.” What all that shit does is beyond me, but it begged the obvious question: where the hell do you hide it? Surely a man’s asshole could only hold half of this. “My recording device looks like a CD player and I carry it in my hand when I go through security. The microphones are on separate wires for

the left and right channel so they can double as my ‘headphones’ if I am ever asked. “ He adds, “I have been very fortunate through the pat downs, but ultimately I just remember to be calm and act natural.” An equally useful tip for sneaking a condom full of heroin over the border. When he gets past the squares that wanna shit on his bootlegging party, it’s a matter of positioning yourself to get the best recording. “I find getting the microphones as high as possible is best. All the shows I do are done ‘stealthed’. as to not attract attention from security, so it can be tricky. I prefer having the microphones on my head and be further back from the stage. You take yourself out of the energy of the crowd as you are focused on getting a good recording but,” Andrew pauses for a second and adds, “the sacrifice is worth it.” Our discussion then shifted from audio nerdery to ethical quandary. Sean dispelled the myth that people are profiting from bootlegs as, “it’s not really the case.” And rather optimistically, he adds that, “it would be great if all bands allowed recordings of shows because for the most part the shows are going back to the fans and introducing others to their live show. It’s great to see those bands who do encourage open recordings and what they have done for the community and their fans.” I asked him if he’d ever been busted and apparently there was an unforgettable escapade at a Pearl Jam concert (who allegedly are cool with it) when an usher busted him an hour into the show. “Not sure how they knew. My micro-

The Trash-thete

Ah yes, just as I suspected - time to buy a watch PAGE 18 THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005

PHOTO: HERMAN NEMENERVEMANANA

By Bertrand and Mack

The successful bootlegger knows how to be inconspicuous

phones are small and attached to my hat, and the wires were pulled tight. Looking at me from the side, you wouldn’t be able to tell so this is still a mystery how they knew.” He got dragged into a back room of the venue and despite letting the management and security know that Pearl Jam was pro-taper, “it fell on deaf ears. Pearl Jam is releasing soundboard recordings, in mp3 unfortunately, after their Canadian shows for a fee, so perhaps this was their concern.” After they saw that Sean had deleted the show from his portable recorder and checked his gear, he was allowed back into the show. “The ultimatum he gave me was pretty harsh - give up my media or they bring in the police…This whole situation had about 10 security people around me, I was causing quite a scene.” While this was going on,

during a rousing version of “Alive”, upwards of three women reported they were sexually assaulted and numerous Pearl Jam fans set fire to their seats in the nose bleed section… I’m assuming.

Wanna start downloading bootlegs yourself? Here’s how you do it. Download a bit torrent client from versiontracker.com. There are a bunch but I’ve found Azureus to be the best. Visit a torrent site like dimeadozen.org, which is a great site for snagging live recordings. Search through the site and find a show you’d like to have. Download the torrent file of the show. Open the file in Azureus and it’ll start downloading. Be sure to keep a good ratio and upload as much as you download or you’ll get banned. n

n’t have to be written, until we’ve consumed all the eneration Exploitation is the work of local writer, books and movies that have already been made. I try stand up comic and all-round entertaining bastard Kliph Nesteroff. It’s a real world, 3-D, xerox- not to take risks; I didn’t go to anything at the film festival. ed expression of the vast, roiling amount of crap that Nerve: Can you elaborate on the strange magic of apparently lives in Nesteroff’s cluttered brain. Issue two, Herve Villechaize, who graces the cover of the new for instance, features a long interview with Woody issue? Woodbury – an old comedian from the back pages of American pop culture – that covers Woodbury’s associ- Kliph: I needed to top Don Knotts (Issue #2). Don Knotts had to top Erik Estrada (Issue #1). It hits some ation with everybody ranging from Buddy Hackett, sort of button with people. Gary Coleman? The novelty Johnny Carson, Jerry Lewis, the Sinatras, Don Adams, has worn off. But there’s a point where the novelty is still and Paul Lynde, all the way to Harry Nilsson, the Strawberry Alarm Clock, the Standells, and Them. For fresh and there’s a nostalgia factor, and also a distinct look. Herve Villechaize killed himself before he could some of us at the Nerve - this is Nerv-ana. By the end acknowledge that. It’s novelty human beings, basically. of the interview, the 81-year-old gagman digs the 24year-old Nesteroff so much, that he sends him a super Nerve: Any big discoveries? Kliph: Smokey and the Hot Wire Gang, from 1979. It’s rare copy of an obscure ’60s beach party movie he pretty amazing and it has a made with the director of the theme song: [sings – very original Batman. It’s an As far as I’m concerned, another absolute fucking blast. loudly] “I’m a hotwired red hot movie doesn’t have to be made, lady / underhanded, deadly another book doesn’t have to be Nerve: Why do you have and shady / I’ll be your baby, this antenna for the detritus written, until we’ve consumed all the I’ll be your lady / I’ll hotwire of pop culture? books and movies that have already your heart / I’ll be your slave, Kliph: Isn’t that a little highobey your command / coz I’m been made brow for The Nerve? I started a woman and you are a Generation Exploitation as a man!!!” It was sung by a made reason to justify watching as many movies as I did, in a up band called Valerie and the Hot Wires. short period of time last Christmas. I was at my parent’s Nerve: Let’s talk about the worst of Canadian film. Kliph: The worst Canadian movie of all time – Robin house, in Nelson, and in order to avoid having to deal Bougie will say it’s Things – is a movie called My with my family, I watched 43 movies. I couldn’t justify Pleasure is My Business, starring the Happy Hooker, doing that as a normal human being, so I decided I Xaviera Hollander, as herself, and it is horrible. The would start taking notes and write something about King of Kensington directed it in 1974 as Albert S. them – and thus I started the ‘zine. Nerve: How do you feel about the custom-made cult Waxman. The soundtrack is one of the worst things about the movie, by a 20-year-old man named Tom film – like Bubba Ho-Tep? Cochrane, and the opening credit sequence has Kliph: I think it’s trying too hard. Then you see the Xaviera Hollander, flying from city to city, and none of poster the day it premiers, and it says ‘Instant Cult the airports will let her plane land, because she’s too Classic’. There’s just no such thing. sexy. They fly to Paris and they go, “Mais non, she canNerve: Where does it cross over for you? not land ‘ere, she is too sexy,” and then they go to Kliph: I won’t watch anything from the ‘80s, which is China, “I can not - is too ha-sexy!!” And it is the stupidreally going out on a limb, I guess, because a lot of peoest movie and the worst movie - there is a midget in it, ple love the gore movies of the ‘80s. But I refuse to so that’s all right - but other than that… It’s horrible. I accept this notion that it’s now cool, or hip, or retro. It think every Canadian film before 1990, with the excepsucked then and it sucks now. The ‘80s suck. Nerve: What about a heroically shit filmmaker like tion of Goin’ Down the Road, is a bad Canadian film. Andy Milligan – he kept going through the ‘80s. Kliph: You know what I really liked? Herschell Gordon Both Generation Exploitation and sister zine, Classick Lewis did a sequel to Blood Feast and I was skeptical, Film Journal, are available in Vancouver at Happy Bats, but I liked it! I won’t go out of my way to seek out con- Zulu Records, Red Cat Records, and The Comic Shop. temporary horror films. As far as I’m concerned, anoth- Toronto readers can grab it at both Suspect Video er movie doesn’t have to be made, another book doeslocations. n

Music

Concept Confusion: part sixand of five

k - here’s the deal. You might want to sit down, grab a pencil, get some paper and try to keep up with me. Coheed and Cambria – that Western-shirt-wearing posse of netherworld-flavoured sci-fi math rock professors – has just released its major label debut on Columbia, the briskly titled Good Apollo, I’m Burning Star IV, Volume 1: Fear Through the Eyes of Madness. *breath* There’s more. This is part one of the last chapter in a quadrilogy, based on a comic book by girly-voiced guitarist Claudio Sanchez. Whoa, what the fuck? I thought you said it was their debut? The band actually released chapters two and three in 2003 and 2004 respectively, on Equal Vision Records. Chapter one has yet to be released. Why? Well, that’s one of the questions that we asked bassist Michael Todd when we caught up with the band mid-preparations before their show at the Croatian Cultural Centre. “We just wanted to jump right into the action,” explains Todd, in reference to the decision to save chapter one for last, and George Lucasize it with a prequel. “We thought that using our first record to layout the groundwork for a story might be kind of crappy.” Since the band has evolved so quickly over the past three years, it might be an awkward switch to do the first part of the story last. “You know what?” says Todd, “Maybe we

might even go back to (the) Shabutie days, but even then I don’t know. We’ll see when we get there. It might even be a fucking country album for all I know at this point. Who knows what we will be into then?” Pretty much any new punker will reach for their genitals when you mention Coheed and Cambria. Warped Tour ‘04 made the band a household name, but according to Todd there was little performance involved in the creation of their first release ‘post fame’. “The album is a natural evolution for us,” he says. “It’s the best thing we have ever done. It’s a lot more musical, more cohesive. People are saying that it seems more simple (than the first two albums) but I think it’s better woven, musically. It’s dope.” To accompany the albums, there are two comic books and a graphic novel. Christopher Shy was brought on board for the latest installment, released in September to support Good Apollo blah blah blah. According to Todd, the band switched from Wes Abbot, who illustrated the previous two, in an effort to match the dark tone of the narrative. Seems reasonable, enough - the story is about a man who journeys through a parallel nether-

world to avenge the death of his siblings and parents, who, surprisingly enough, are named Coheed and Cambria. So how do you construct a concept band? Where do you start? Asked about how he was approached with the idea, Todd replies, “Claudio and I were in Shabutie with another drummer. Travis joined at the tail end and we had a falling out, and thank God Josh was there, so we had a new band. And we didn’t have a name - we held on to Shabutie for one bar show, and then we said, fuck this, we have to do something different. Coheed and Cambria came up cause it was an idea that Claudio had been throwing around for an acoustic idea. Why don’t we just take that name and some of the ideas?” On an unrelated side note: in an interview

with Creem Online it was stated that Sony banned Josh Petard (drummer) from doing radio interviews because of his swearing and general unruliness. In truth, he isn’t banned. He’s allowed to do said interviews, but he has to be under strict supervision and with a five second delay. The stickman is censored due to antics that include swearing, mouthing off the DJs, and putting Carson Daly’s mic in his ass (we made that last one up). Todd closed the interview with a few words about his band mate’s actions: “The thing about radio interviews is, it’s about who can strike first. The DJ is so damn clever all the time, you know, and the next second you don’t really know what to say. And I think Josh goes into the interviews with that in mind.”n

tried to explain the poppy vs. headbangable nature of the 4/4 beat to the crowd – only to have his rhythm section demonstrate with a 30-second rendition of “Billie Jean”! Prog rock pretensions my ass! Stoned hermit bassist Martin Mandez, ever-cheerful guitarist Peter Lindgren, and newly official keyboardist Per Wiberg all suitably rocked… but yet again, no sign of drummer extraordinaire Martin Lopez. Witchery/Nifelheim stickboy Martin Axenrot filled in – not bad for a third cat named Martin – but what’s the deal? Go back a couple years – Opeth’s first Western Canadian escapade is wrought with chaos, Lopez quickly hopping the first plane home for some direly needed rest and medical treatment. Damon the drum tech is thrown on stage for a pass through Opeth’s simpler, mellower selections, until local heavyweight Gene Hoglan (Strapping Young Lad, Testament, Death) stole a couple of rounds on the stool, and the heavy shit flew! Vancouver’s response was huge and achingly appreciative. On the inaugural Sounds of the Underground tour – which Opeth joined after being hacked from Ozzfest, “because they had too many Swedish bands” (!!!) – big Gene was the saviour yet again. Talking to the Nerve prior to sound check at the Commodore, Akerfeldt says of Hoglan: “In the gig that we did here, he

was sitting on that couch listening to the songs on a Walkman. We did sound check and he just nailed it. Same thing on the SOTU tour. He’s like, ‘I wanna play the new song, “The Grand Conjuration.”’ And he just nailed it. Practiced on a pillowcase in the back of the bus.” Lopez’s medical troubles, whatever they are, continue to this day. He’s on the mend, Akerfeldt insists, and I don’t push the issue. Opeth’s eighth and newest album, Ghost Reveries, is – unsurprisingly - endlessly surprising, particularly the rampant use of Wiberg’s moody keyboards. Take “Beneath the Mire”, with its organ-based melody line, about which Akerfeldt says, “The working title was actually ‘The Russian’. I thought it sounded like something out of Siberia.” “Atonement”, one of the most soothing moments on Reveries, is pure George Harrison. “Yeah, that was obviously a tribute to ‘60s psychedelia, and the Beatles in particular,” he nods. “But it wasn’t ‘Within You, Without You’ as much as it was ‘Tomorrow Never Knows’.” As for being stoned, try this: Opeth and Clutch forming an impromptu backstage supercombo at SOTU. How’d that happen? “It was one night,” says Akerfeldt. “We all got pissdrunk, and they set up the gear in the parking lot where the buses were parked.” Please… did someone record it? “I don’t know if it was that good, to be honest,” he demurs. Bullshit. “The guys in Clutch, their whole music is based

around jams, and we were pretty fresh. But it was fun.” Hanging with the right contemporaries is one thing, but how about meeting your aging heroes? “The more you’re into this business, you get to meet and get close to your influences. Just a couple of days ago, I got in touch with Andy Latimer from Camel. He got the Ghost Reveries record, and was like, “Wow.” I invited him to the show yesterday. And I met Coverdale.” David (Whitesnake) Coverdale? The cock rock moron who teamed up with Glenn Hughes to (arguably) ruin Deep Purple? “I’m a big overall Deep Purple fan, but Coverdale is one of my favourite singers of all time,” avers Arkfeldt, noting “Soldier of Fortune”, which Opeth is known to perform live, as “one of the best rock ballads ever written.” As for rock tributes, the rustic pointillist headshots of Opeth, mid-album sleeve brings to mind Firebird’s Deluxe or the back cover of Black Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell. Akerfeldt confirms this. “Long Live Rock ‘n’ Roll. Rainbow. That was the idea,” he smiles. I knew there was a Dio connection! As for the future, will my dream bill ever be fulfilled: Opeth opening for the heavenly King Crimson? “Well, I would love to, “Akerfeldt tells me. “I think that Robert Fripp is into extreme music. He’s been doing solo shows opening for Porcupine Trees (led by Steven Wilson, Opeth’s sometime producer), so the step isn’t huge.” What a tease! With Rock Gods as my witnesses, I honestly don’t think my cock has ever been harder.n

Pretty much any new punker will reach for their genitals when you mention Coheed and Cambria

ive reasons Mikael Akerfeldt, Opeth’s singer/songwriter/guitarist/genius, is a certified hero: 1. Pretentious? Silly? Bah! The music he loves, he loves with no shame. 2. A gazillion young metallers are tripping out on obscure European prog rock because he said so. 3. No tough-guy metal bullshit. 4. He drives a Volvo. 5. He’s as giddy about meeting his own rock heroes as I am about meeting him.

Opeth are true metal originals, their sound – Morbid Angel-styled progressive death, refined in a gloomy Scandinavian winter with chin stroking mid-70’s stratospheric prog noodling – is totally unique. Music fans making music for music fans, Opeth registers a stunning ‘zero’ on my rock’n’roll bullshit detector. On October 14th they tore up the Commodore with tracks from every album postMorningrise - even “The Moor”! The usually cordial Akerfeldt was snappy and playful as a front man, (“This next song of ours is really mellow. It’s a sissy song. In fact, this song fucking sucks.”) Prior to “Blackwater Park”, Akerfeldt

and fucking rad

Deep and Purple and Swedish

PHOTO: JACKIE DIVES

By David Bertrand

PHOTO: DALE DEDOUCHER

By Dale DeRuiter

With Rock Gods as my witnesses, I honestly don’t think my cock has ever been harder

THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 19

Cover

PAGE 20 THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005

BBuzz uzz OOsbourne sbourne

Music

AM Melvin Meatheads Man Men elvin AAmong mong M eatheads aand nd a M an AAmong mong M en

By Ferdy Belland

expect nothing, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” The Jello/Melvins show will see strong local support from a certain never-say-die mackinawclad Burnaby punk trio led by a beloved sourpuss who’s also a notorious political activist. Guess who? Yep, it’s DOA. Who else? “We first played with DOA back in ‘84,” recalls Osbourne. “And if I remember correctly, the show was an utter blast all around. And Jello is really good friends with Joey Shithead, so this should be a lot of fun. We’re looking forward to having a good time with DOA again on their home turf.” When asked by a curious Osbourne, this writer explained the state of the current

Pintophilia

Vancouver music community in all of its exciting, diversified, and bustling glory; Osbourne also asked for clarification on the venue his band and his old friends will be blasting free at. “The Croatian Centre holds a thousand people? I didn’t think there were a thousand Croatians left in Croatia, let alone Vancouver.” Perhaps that’ll be the family feature when Michael Eisner opens Balkans Disney: 1001 Croatians. When asked what sort of electric guitar Buzz would choose to keep with him if stranded on a desert island, the whipcrack wit of the Melvins noise maestro lashes back: “Since there’d be no electricity, it’d have to be an acoustic guitar.” n

Crystal Pistol Penetrates Crack in Youth Market

The Melvins work on the “Sieg” part of their collaboration with Jello Biafra he infamous agit-prop impresario Jello Biafra and the trebly-infamous tinnitus merchants known as the Melvins will appear together, larger than life and in the flesh, in support of their latest collaboration album Sieg Howdy! Thursday, November 3rd at Vancouver’s beloved Croatian Cultural Centre. This will be the only Canadian appearance on the 15-date Jello/Melvins mini-tour, so all of you better get your asses moving pronto! The charismatic Melvins frontman Buzz Osbourne says that it’s more by design than by choice. “We’d come to Canada a lot more if it wasn’t for that pesky border,” Osbourne laments. “We get harassed both ways, coming and going. It’s always some new twist trying to come into Canada, which is always a pain in the ass. It’s really too bad, because I’d love to play at least ten Canadian dates every time we tour North America. The last time I came to Canada was with Fantomas in Montreal, and once again the entry process was a headache. Homeland Security and Canada Customs are equal in their absurdity, and I find the whole nuisance of it all completely pointless.” Asked whether the Canadian shows are worth it for the Melvins in the end, Osbourne is quick to say, “The shows themselves are always good. It’s never the shows, or the Canadians themselves - they’re great! It’s always those pesky border guards.” One would imagine the eagle-eyed guardians of our nation’s boundaries would spot the silhouette of Osbourne’s famous bedraggled afro from miles away and simply wave the Melvins through out of weary recognition alone, but sadly it’s not the case. Not yet. Perhaps after November 3rd... The Melvins are, of course, those bizarre, earsplitting living legends of a power trio who fearlessly honed their unlikely craft in the dreary logging town of Aberdeen, WA, helped spark off a bustling (and soon-to-be-revolutionary) indierock community in the sleepy provincial burgh of Seattle, and also helped convince (by example) a young manic-depressive hometown substance-abuser named Kurt Cobain to get off his mopey ass and do something constructive with those catchy tunes he wrote. Since 1986, the Melvins have released nearly two dozen time-

lessly classic albums such as Ozma, Bullhead, Stoner Witch, Houdini, and their most recent release, Never Breathe What You Can’t See, continues their singular oddball vision of jackhammer drums (courtesy of fellow founding member Dale Crover), monster avant-metal guitars, a bewildering array of bassists, and utterly confusing lyrics belted out by the loudest set of human pipes hatched in the Pacific Northwest. Jello Biafra is, of course, the former Eric Boucher of Boulder CO, who moved to San Francisco as a teenager in the late 1970s and nailed his name into the pages of punk rock history as the leader of the Dead Kennedys - one of the most truly effective agit-prop punk bands of the early American hardcore scene. He helms Alternative Tentacles Records, he ran for mayor of San Francisco a few times, he fought a running (and just) battle with the Tipper PMRC’s Gore for many years, ran for US President in the 2000 elections with Mumia Abu Jamal named as his running mate, and got his bones broken by clueless asshole punks at SF’s renowned 924 Gilman Street hardcore temple. Over the past 15 years he’s made another name for himself as a hypercharged political spoken-word performer (and an occasional cameo-role actor), and remains a vital icon of punk’s early days, proving there’s real socio-political power ready to be wielded by countercultural artists with the smarts and the courage to do so. Although Sieg Howdy! is the third collaboration between the Melvins and Jello, it wasn’t love at first sight. “It all started with Jello not being a fan of ours,” says Osbourne. “He never really liked us, and although I would see him around San Francisco we never spoke. Then someone convinced him to see us live back in 2001, and he introduced himself to me afterwards. We took it from there.” Since that fateful day when Jello finally got the Melvins’ gist, their combo releases have been praised and enjoyed the world over. When asked who else he’d like to collaborate with, Osbourne says, “Whoever’s the most popular at the moment, so we can sell a hell of a lot of albums.” Does this mean a Melvins/Evanescence album might be in the works? “You can never expect anything,” Osbourne muses. “You can only dream. If you

We’d come to Canada a lot more if it wasn’t for that pesky border

hey’re taking over from where G n’ R and black market smuggling schemes gone wrong), the Crue left off, but with a little more what’s next for Vancouver’s quintet of sleaze? glam, a little more style and much better Festival of Guns of course, and then… all ages stage attire. Paying their dues to carve their gigs? “What? You’ll have 15 year-olds shouting pre-destined empty bottle and cigarette-butt-litC-O-C-A-I-N-E! Listening to all those songs tered path to arena-rock stardom, Crystal Pistol about debauchery, that’s wrong!” I sputter, ever is one of those bands that does the sex, drugs the stick in the mud. “There’s worse things they and rock ‘n’ roll shtick so hard, you can’t even could be doin’, like playin violent video games”, tell if it’s tongue-in-cheek or just an actual, real Pinto retorts. “It’s the only way to expand the time public display of their own demise. What audience.” For a band that is always surroundexactly IS a Crystal Pistol, I ask That wouldn’t ed by a bevy of barely legal, barely clad, adorbe a wise thing to bring to a gang fight, would ing female fans and rock chicks, I could see this it? “No…” starts Pinto, CP’s soft spoken axe line of reasoning was going nowhere fast. man, already unimpressed with my asinine line Things can only make headlines from here, as of questioning. “It’s a guy who lives in denial Ireland demonstrated at a recent Waldorf gig, and just can’t give up playin’ rock ‘n’ roll.” It all giving new meaning to the phrase ‘Rock out starts to make sense. So, to the best of my with your cock out’. “You can’t do it if you’ve understanding it began something like this: been doing drugs,” Pinto advises. “If your cock Pinto (who is a small but very pretty and handis out and no one can see it, then you got no some young gentleman) was searching for a business!” n new music project to infuse some debauchery back into his recently married life on the ranch when he met Mik Ireland. Ireland, CP’s untameably wild and ever aloof front man, known for his Iggy Pop-esque stage presence, a strange obsession with local rock diva Nikki Hurst, and conversations peppered with many references to ‘certain’ illegal substances, happened to be AWOL at interview time. “Where did you find that guy anyways?” I ask. “Outside the Pic Pub, lying on the sidewalk. Drunk,” laughs Pinto. The two immediately began writing songs, and to round out the outfit, hijacked the members of local punk band, the Cartels. After throwing in copious amounts of powdered amphetamines and cheap rye whiskey, Pinto had himself the perfect mixture for this city’s future icons of rock and/or roll. Five years, a full-length disc on the shelves and thousands of dollars of black mascara later (rumour has it, Crystal Pistol has had their 30% Mac discount revoked, due to one of This adorable porcelain figurine makes a perfect Ireland’s complicated addition to any knick-knack cabinet or curio shelf PHOTO: DEVON CODY

By Cowboy TexAss

THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 21

Music Off The Record

personally, I like stuff with a bit more attitude. - Chris Walter

T H E 3 TA R D S

Nerve: Who are you? John Tard: My name is John Tard and I’m from a tiny town with five homes and one last name. I sing for the 3Tards in Toronto, and we are planning to take over the world, with love, kisses and group hugs that transcend punk rock. Punk rock has been anxiously awaiting a giant group hug for years. Nerve: You have a new disc called Crystal Balls, which features a song called “Sodomy Road”. Where is Sodomy Road? And what can people expect from this sophomore effort? John Tard: This disc is beyond comprehension. As per asscore usual, it brings all elements of music together. We have punk, metal and hard rock all jammed into this soup we call Crystal Balls. Not one song sounds the same, just like our first disc. The actual Sodomy Road is about five minutes from my house. I’m so happy it’s so close. Nerve: D’you have any special treats planned for your upcumming CD release party, on Dec. 3rd at the Kathedral in Toronto? John Tard: Yes - tons of treats as per usual. A stellar lineup from top to bottom. Corpusse is gonna scare the hell out of everybody. The show is hosted by Burger. He/she is in our banned video for “3tarded” on our website. We are planning new stuff daily so it should get absolutely wild. We A Dozen Furies A Concept From Fire Sanctuary Ladies and gentlemen, here we have another musical by-product of reality TV. A Dozen Furies won MTV’s Battle for Ozzfest reality contest in 2004. For the record - and in order to maintain my dignity - I must state that I was unaware that such heresy existed. I am truly dumbfounded that the metal market has stooped to the same level as those who force-feed the likes of Clay Aiken and JD fucking Fortune on us. Is nothing off-limits to the fist-fucking appendages of reality TV? A Concept From Fire is as slickly produced as you would expect and has all the traditional metal staples – chunky rhythm guitar work, piercing spider-handed solos, and ferociously spat vocals. Had they left it at this, it could have been a decent album. Unfortunately, the blatant intent to appeal to trends by adding sappy melodic vocal interludes weighs the album down to the level of polished mediocrity. - Devon Cody Against Me Searching For a Former Clarity Fat Wreck Chords This is good rock music, not that plastic shit they try to feed you on the radio, and at times, I was going, yeah, this is pretty good. None of the songs stayed in my head when it ended, but what the fuck would I know? I’ve never been in a successful band, and I’m not fit to carry

regularly pack the Kathedral in Toronto, and this time is no exception. If we wanted to hear preaching and war cries we would watch the friggin’ news. Our fans and friends want to have a blast - kinda like when I was a kid watching SNFU. A total package. Plus, the first 200 people get a free 3Tards load rag. Nerve: Our music editor says it still hurts when he pees - do you have any advice for him? John Tard: The problem clearly is that he is still peeing. He says it hurts when he pees, so tell the prick to stop peeing. Pretty simple really. A dab of super glue will close that hole airtight and his issue is solved. Nerve: Shamelessly plug whatever you like as of now John Tard: We like Mr. Plow, but we love Mrs. Plow! That girl is a sexual Tyrannosaurus Rex. She told me that all her sexual desires were not being met, but we sorted that shit out in a hurry. The 3Tards were extremely sad to hear Mr. Plow don’t quite cut it in the bedroom, but hey! What are friends for? The party starts and ends with the 3Tards, and I’m happy to be everybody’s stepdad. Go to THE3TARDS.COM and leave us a nasty message. - Mr. Plow

Against Me’s amplifiers. I’m just a bitter old rock critic who gets his jollies spoiling it for everyone else. - Chris Walter

Ani Kyd Evil Needs Candy Too Alternative Tentacles Wow, that’s some set of pipes on Ani, and usually I’m not a big fan of female vocalists other than Penelope Houston or Joan Jett. Musically, Evil Needs Candy Too is tough to squeeze into any known genre, but if I had too, I’d call it moody hard rock with overtones of punk and grunge. Okay, I stole the ‘grunge’ part from the press sheet that came with this, but honestly, Evil Needs Candy Too is very hard to pigeon hole, and as you know, us anal rock journalists have a terrible need to CATAGORIZE EVERYTHING. In this case, I’ll try to relax a bit more and just forget about all that. I’m digging this CD, and it’s no wonder that Vancouverites are so rabidly proud of Ani Kyd. She might be on Alternative Tentacles, but she’s our girl. - Chris Walter

Annalise Here’s To Hope No Idea This is melodic, British pop punk, well crafted, and tastefully arranged. Mod influences appear often, and comparisons to the Jam are impossible to avoid. Annalise is quite good at what they do, and there isn’t anything at all wrong with this CD, but

PAGE 22 THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005

The Black Dahlia Murder Miasma Metal Blade The Black Dahlia Murder is a lot like a monkey with a butcher’s knife. It’s menacing at first, though you can’t help but laugh at the mentally feeble primate. You see, troubled young lad and lead vocalist Trevor Strnad has expanded his lyrical vocabulary on BDM’s sophomore record with songs about cheap sex, drugs, and how the road is a bitch. Breaking new ground for BDM maybe, but for your non-primate knife-wielding listener, this does nothing when it’s so poorly executed. Trevor screams like an old man who’s prostate just gave out after a night of prune juice, chili tacos and a mexican prostitute named Lola who loves scat more than money. In other words, the screaming is incomprehensible. On the positive side, guitarists Brian Eschbach and John Kempainen are very talented at ripping At the Gates riffs with more of a death metal flare, and new Drummer Zach Gibson is actually a good addition, providing more blast beats than an acne breakout at McDonalds. Just for your information, miasma is a smell from decomposing material believed to cause disease. - David Von Bentley

The 3tards Crystal Balls Wounded Paw This is the best thing to come out of Canada since the deportation of Celine Dion to Las Vegas. There’s this new craze called asscore, and it’s tearing the punk scene a new… You get the point. Crystal Balls is an alchemical mingling of punk, metal, toilet humour and Ex-Lax. This album is like the so-called religious experience people have on the shitter after a hard hard night of boozing. Standout tracks include “Man Rapist”, “Stuck On You”, “New Punk”, and “Big Dog Little Dick”. I have loved this band since the first time I saw them, opening for the Dayglos last year in Toronto, and I give Crystal Balls four ripped asses out of five ripped asses. - Plow

Bloodhound Gang Hefty Fine Geffen I like my humour like I like my women…JUVENILE!!! So, of course, I would shit with happiness over a new Bloodhound Gang album. This record is fucking good, too. Almost good enough to make up for that shitty fucking “Bad Touch” song and the fact that club Djs jizzed all over themselves like it was the next fucking “Butterfly” by Crazy Town when it came out. You know. The song that made bitches want to ‘do it’. No shitty European techno for me, thanks, especially not the variety that makes drunk club sluts grope each other on the dance floor. Standout tracks include “Pennsylvania”, “Farting With a Walkman On”, and “Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo”, the obvious first single and an ode to the thinly-veiled sexual innuendo the Gang has managed to spread out over four albums and 10 years, which is infinitely longer than anyone could have predicted they would ever last. - Derek Bolen Brakes Give Blood Rough Trade The great thing about British art-punks is their grand understatement and class transcendence. They don’t need ridiculous piercings or botched ink-jobs to prove their worth. To them, it’s just punk and it’s just fuck you. They could be sitting beside you on the tube, nickin’

glances at your bird and you’d be none the wiser. Just like Brakes - four Brighton lads weaned on the Fall and Half Japanese and raised on the indie-twang of Frank Black and Robert Pollard. “Heard About Your Band” is the finest piss-off to any “in-the-know” hipster and “Hi How Are You” is the greatest 40-second slag-off since Zeppelin’s “Livin’ Lovin’ Maid”. It’s a bit of a shame that Give Blood’s 16 tracks wrap in a mere 30-minutes, and most songs end by the time they begin, but Brakes wouldn’t have it any other way. - Adam Simpkins

The Briefs Steal Yer heart BYO For quite a while now, it’s been ‘the Briefs this, and the Briefs that’, but other than a song or two on a compilation, I have somehow managed to avoid them. I’m always wary of bands with a lot of hype around them, because too often they turn out to be just another shade of beige. Happily, this is not the case here, and the Briefs are indeed worthy of lavish praise. I’m not very good at that, however, but I will say that Steal Yer Heart is very infectious, and has more hooks than a tackle box. This is pop punk the way it should be, not that Good Charlotte shite. Let me add that the Briefs are cartoon-like in a manic, Dickies sort of way, and in a world where people take bands with names like Avenged Sevenfold and Taking Back Sunday seriously, that is a good thing. Favourite song: “Getting Hit On At the Bank”. - Chris Walter

The Capitals Broadcast One Independent For those of you waiting with baited breath for the new Redd Kross album due in ’06, may I suggest feeding your jones with the latest offering from Vancouver’s own reigning power pop kingpins the Capitals? To say that Broadcast One harkens back to the last two RK records is a bit like saying Noel Gallagher quite enjoys the Beatles. So – the Capitals employ huge riff-o-rama, sweet, sugary vocals, and sinewy bass lines that wind themselves around some propulsive (and to the point) drumming. Shit! Isn’t that power pop nirvana? Produced by former Grapes of Wrath tunesmith Kevin Kane and mixed by former Odds-man Steven Drake, the band went for the jugular in procuring interest from Canada’s power pop hierarchy. The move works well, since the Capitols already have a knack for harmonies with oomph, and an itchy trigger finger when it comes to the Eddie Kurdziel/Rick Neilson solo interplay. Lead vocalist/songwriter Patrick Jacobson shows a maturity in his songwriting that only makes the youthful exuberance of the band all that more appealing. - Fu C Ku

The Crimea Tragedy Rocks Warner Since 2002, the Crimea has garnered comparisons to the likes of the Flaming Lips, the Pixies and a more ominous Gomez. Listening to this, their North American debut, it’s probable that the Crimea is also heavily influenced by the Kinks catalogue - especially in the festive single Lottery Winners On Acid and the neurotic Howling at the Moon. Their sound, however, is far from retro. This is fresh, eclectic songwriting at its finest and most digestibly quirky. I’m not a big fan of most of the groups coming out of Britain these days, but Tragedy Rocks has captured me totally. I’ve even found myself singing along with vocals, which in some spots can be reminiscent of Robert Smith with a much more subtle accent. And I fucking hate The Cure. I’ve checked my temperature and I’ve been taking my vitamins, so I know I’m not ill. This is quite simply just a great record. - Devon Cody Cutthroat 6-Song Demo Independent I wanted to take a few lines to mention this “release”, even though it’s a demo.

Cutthroat play a brand of ska and bluebeat that touches on dub but clearly comes from a punk rock (more aptly streetrock/Oi!) launching point. This local three-piece smokes a lot of weed and drinks a lot of beer, and the live set includes a twisted dub-based version of the Black Flag nugget “Nervous Breakdown” that would make even a jaded fuck like me smile from ear-to-ear! The demo is a bit uneven at times, but comes alive in the more bluebeat flavoured numbers. The cover of the chestnut “Rude Boy”, for instance, is sung well and carries with it an emotion that the harder songs lack. – Emery T Kock III

Dead Letter Dept. Rock ‘n’ Roll Hates You Underground Operations Hmm… What genre should I squeeze this into? I guess it sounds like decent enough indie rock, and though Rock ‘n’ Roll Hates You occasionally veers into radio-friendly territory, I like it probably for no better reason than the guitars and vocals appeal to me. Some of the lyrics are alright, too. Lyrics such as, “I’m alive the most when I’m at my worst”, and “I don’t care if you don’t care.” That last one sounds familiar. Where have I heard that before? Haven’t we all said that to someone at least once in our lives? I’ll probably even say it again someday. - Chris Walter Electric Eel Shock Beat Me Gearhead In my often-vivid imagination, I picture all Japanese males aged 18-34 completely obsessed with Turbonegro and flaunting their KISS army badges with supreme honour. But reality dictates that the average Far East city-dwelling man spends most of his time jerkin’ it to adolescent Karaoke videos and drooling over cartoonish J-Pop stars. Which is why it is so imperative that we, as North Americans, promote the greatness of Electric Eel Shock to no end. And when we get to that end, we’ll turn it into a beginning and start again. This is a band with feet firmly rooted in the foundations of all things amplified and riffed. A band that could write classics blindfolded (earfolded too, I guess) and doesn’t quit until you are satisfied. You doubt it? Give any track on this album a solid listen (“Mile End” would be an adequate sample) and get your lips ready to spread the word. - Adam Simpkins

Fireball Ministry Their Rock is Not Our Rock Liquor and Poker Listening to Their Rock is Not Our Rock, I had images of booze, bikers, tits, and drugs dancing along with the sugarplums in my head. As much as I enjoyed this journey into straight up, unpretentious hard rock, in the end it wasn’t enough. Don’t get me wrong, I still wanted to jump on my ‘74 Harley, beat a bitch for ‘wrongin’ me’ and then get into a shootout with the law in a downtown apartment with a solid anthem like “Sundown” blasting for my enjoyment. But - much like the rails I would be hauling off a hooker’s ass in that apartment for three days straight sometimes too much is truly too much. I wanted more variety. Sounding like a mix of Motorhead and COC after smoking a bag of dope so big that it makes mama cry, Fireball Ministry rolls through a set that’s easy on the ears, but isn’t so much hard as not weak. So their rock can be your rock, if you buy Their Rock is Not Our Rock. So whose rock is it then? The answer can be found at your local record store or calculus class. (What the fuck are you talking about, Bentley? – Music Ed.) - David Von Bentley

Fun 100 Hit it and Quit Hockey Dad Catchy guitar riffs, snotty vocals, funny lyrics, hectic beat. There’s potential here for these guys to be an excellent pop punk band. As of now they’re just…really good. The drumming at times seems to drag a bit, but hey…it’s punk. Sounds like a mating of Devo and the Queers. I especially dig the ‘80s style synth riffs.

This album makes me think of retards in shopping carts - you know it’s dangerous, and most wouldn’t try it themselves, but damn it’s fun to watch. Hit It and Quit will be in my player for at least another week - Tim Gaxton

Go Betty Go Nothing Is More Side One Dummy This all-female band manages to stand out from the pack with hot licks and confident songwriting. Nothing Is More gets a little radio friendly at times, but mostly this is straight-up rock, with punk and Celtic influences thrown in for good measure. No slow tracks or filler here, and this plays from beginning to end without making you want to hit the skip button. The vocals by Nicolette Vilar are strong and clear without being screechy, not once making me wish she could take it down several octaves. This is where I’m supposed to make some kind of smartass comment, but today I’ll just leave ya hangin’. Go Betty Go is good stuff. - Chris Walter

God Forbid IV: Constitution of Treason Century Media Four burly black men and one skinny white dude. No this isn’t the casting lineup for White Twink 2: Sticking it IN the Man, it’s actually the racial profile of God Forbid. Why does this matter? Well, that’s the thing… it doesn’t matter. The only reason I bring this up is because you should want to stroke it bloody to the merciless sounds of these black men (and one scraggly white boy). If you don’t want to blow blood, then you’re RACIST! Well maybe not, but I’ll try and stick you with “white guilt” because this is my favourite metal album this year. With more riffs then Jesse Jackson has rhymes; this record showcases Doc and Dallas Coyle’s growth as the primary songwriters. Byron Davis’ vocals consist mostly of vengeful screaming but, unlike many of his peers, he can actually sing too. The rhythm nation of drummer Corey Pierce and bassist John Outcalt (white) creates the backbone. “Not a single bad song, not a boring moment, only tasteful thrash up the white man’s ass,” spake the Reverend Jackson after his first listen to Treason. Who are we to argue with such an elegant public speaker? - Dave Von Bentley

Hellmarys Bleeding is Believing Genecesspool I am already excited about Hellmarys’ next release. The production seems slightly amateur and the vocals are a little too predominant and clean for my taste, but Hellmarys’ Monster Magnet styled guitar work more than compensates for these minor flaws. The riffs are absolutely freaking infectious! This is the kinda shit that prefaces reckless driving, rowdy nights out at the peeler bar, and raunchy rabid fucking. Get on your knees and say your prayers, cocksuckers. Hellmarys are out to corrupt, and I assure you you’ll want a little spare salvation in the bank when you get your hands on this disc. - Devon Cody Honeyhander Woolly Mannerisms Strictly Amateur Films Oh Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth, I was completely unaware that you and that Pat Briggs guy from Psychotica had a love child. What’s that, you say? It was too powerful of a seed and you had to split it between five males so that your combined sound genes would not be too much for one soul to bear? Why my friend, you were thinking indeed. Hey, they conveniently made a band called Honeyhander and released a five song EP. Yes, thank you, I am very pleased because now I can stop listening to throwback new wave music and move into early ‘90s grunge-noise-techno retro. I just hope I don’t have to wear ugly clothes and be a prick to fully enjoy this wonderful creation of yours. Oh, but it was too short my friend. Just when I was getting into the sound (tiny bit muddy on the vocals), it was over. - Dale DeRuiter

Jello Biafra & the Melvins Sieg Howdy! Alternative Tentacles I’m not sure if I’m the right man for this job, because I’m still pissed at Jello. Maybe it’s just me, but it doesn’t seem very punk to force your ex-bandmates to take you to court to get the royalties rightfully owed to them. Not only that, but I’ve never been the biggest Melvins fan, and I don’t care how much Kurt Cobain used to like them. All that aside, this disc had a few surprises in store for me. First of all, Sieg Howdy! opens with Alice Cooper’s magnificent “Halo of Flies”, all 81/2 minutes of it. Not a bad version, either, but it makes you wonder why they bothered, since they didn’t really change it much. From there, the next three tracks are competent and driving hard rock, and I’m pleased to hear that the Melvins have improved musically since I last saw them at Wellingtons in ’83. Track five is a new take on “Kalifornia Uber Alles” that sent shivers down my spine, but sadly, the CD wanders off into typical Melvins weirdness after that and never fully recovers. And I still think that Jello Biafra sounds like Barney the Dinosaur on steroids. - Chris Walter

Koenjihyakkei Angherr Shisspa Skin Graft In the rarely stagnant world of avant garde music, the lines between intriguing, annoying, and innovative seem to be crossed repeatedly and never without much regard for the other. Attempting to explain bands like Koenjihyakkei (aka Hundred Sights of Koenji) and albums like Angherr Shisspa is futile, you’ll just have to experience it for yourself with a permissive mind. Its overwhelming Japanese-style, way-off Broadway epics accompanied with frantic operatic vocals is enough to bring one to the fringes of insanity. On the other hand, Koenji’s fusion of jazz, prog-roundabouts and heavy-handed experimentalism could be the antidote to your Chemical Romance ills. Either way, it’s bound to arise some sort of emotion even in the deadest of souls. - Adam Simpkins

Ministry Rantology Sanctuary Ministry is 25 years old. How do you celebrate? You can’t release a greatest fits album because you already did. Then you went into rehab and made two more kick fuck CDs. Taking 14 songs that span your career and adding a whole new track (“The Great Satan”)… Well, I guess that would work. Orchestral sounds and faster beats - Al Jourgensen, you really have outdone yourself on this one. There’s even an opera singer involved on the first track - “No W (Redux Mix)” - that you had a chance meeting with while you were wandering around the studio. The newly updated songs on this album are quite exquisite, with political sound bites that include the distinct voice of George W. Rediscovering some old Ministry tracks would have been enough, but the addition of the newer tracks from House of the Mole pushed it over the top. “Warp City” is the new “Jesus Built My Hotrod”. I need a remix of “Psalm 69” and “N.W.O.” like I need more ice cream and pre marital sex - which is a lot. - Dale DeRuiter

Potty Mouth Society s/t Beer Metal I was going to leave this one for Chris Walter to review but the clever band name attracted me like a turd to a toilet – not to mention I’m a selfish, greedy bastard. PMS crank out simple, snotty, 1-2-34 punk rock that is similar to, but not quite as good as, early Social Distortion, Descendents and/or Circle Jerks. They strive to be political in nature by writing songs with broad, hackneyed references to the standard topics that political punks are supposed to talk about – guns, drugs, bureaucrats, the media, etc. When you ignore the trite politics, Potty Mouth Society provides the perfect soundtrack for drinking bad draught, wrecking shit and puking on other people’s shoes. - Devon Cody

Propagandhi Potemkin City Limits G7 Welcoming Committee Prior to this I hadn’t listened to a Propagandhi album since Less Talk More Rock, and there’s been a lot of progression since then. They’re just as vehemently political as ever, yet their approach and execution is more effective, and I’m not so inclined to interpret it as preaching. The message seems to be delivered less from the pulpit and more directly, intimately, and with a sort of optimistic cynicism. Musically, Potemkin City Limits impresses with its range. The fierce tracks “Impending Halfhead” and “Superbowl Patriot XXXVI” bring to mind Christ On a Christ or maybe Suicidal Tendencies, while the jazzy number “Cut to the Earth” demonstrates how well these guys can actually play their instruments. The vocals have also matured away from the snotty Fat Mike sound to something much less annoying and much more indicative of talent. If you, like myself, have lost faith in many of the second-coming-ofpunk bands from the ‘90s, I recommend giving this a listen. It’s familiar enough to inspire a bit of nostalgia, yet fresh enough to appeal to evolved sensibilities. - Devon Cody

Only In Canada, Eh? Compilation Punk History Canada The first thing I wanted to do with this CD was to send it to Stephen Blush, the author of American Hardcore. According to him, other than D.O.A., there were no punk bands in Canada back in the day. Ol’ Steve shoulda came up to Canada to tell us that, because what we have here are 23 bonafide and unforgettable blasts from the past. Granted, there are groups on this such as Da Sylme and Warsaw, who wouldn’t be considered punk nowadays, but like the Vancouver Complication, this CD represents the underground bands that were around at the time. And don’t get me wrong; there are plenty of bands dripping with safety pins and attitude. Though D.O.A. and Teenage Head weren’t able to provide anything we haven’t heard before, other bands such as the 222s, the Bureaucrats, Slander, House of Commons, the Unknowns (who sound much like the band in Hard Core Logo), are genuine treats to these jaded old ears. I simply don’t have enough room to list all the bands I like, but I’d get killed if I didn’t mention my pals from Winnipeg - Lowlife, and the Nostrils. Get two: one for yourself, and one to give away as a Christmas gift. - Chris Walter

Off The Record P U N K H I S T O RY C A N A D A

Nerve: It must have been a challenge to locate all those old punks. Weren’t most of them dead or living under bridges? Nicole McCreary (Compilation Producer): For starters, we didn’t have to contact their next of kin to get their ‘actual’ addresses and contrary to belief, none of the addresses provided said the blue cardboard box between Spadina and Bloor on Bathurst. In most cases it was quite easy to locate most of the bands since most of them visit the punkhistorycanada site, plus we put out a call for submissions. Also, we knew a few of the bands personally so a phone call here or there helped, and we got some unexpected help from other outside sources. Nerve: What were some of the reactions when you told people you wanted their old songs? Nicole: The reactions ranged from disbelief, shock - as in, how did you find me – to, why us? On the other hand, we had emails from bands that said, “How dare you do this project without so and so being a part of it?” Overall, the response was quite positive and most bands were excited to be involved in the project. Nerve: Did you run into any unexpected problems? Did anything funny happen? Nicole: Where do I start? The missing master, which we thought we’d given to Myles our sound engineer, but somehow had never left our place and was in our filing cabinet all along, or the copy of the master that we lost when Myles’s computer crashed after we had sent the tapes back to the bands. Truthfully though, for a project of this magnitude, that involved so many people, it went rather smoothly. Even though we were scrambling right up to the last minute to finalize the CD lineup as we only had a six-month window in which to work.

The Rod Iron Haulers s/t Independent Described – by the band, mind you – as “nine tracks of pure ethanol driven rock and roll,” these guys ain’t lyin’! Like a soundtrack for tattooing, drag racing, doing rails, and just plain getting fucked up, the Rod Iron Haulers have unleashed a shitkicker of a record on us! Fans of Turbonegro, the Hellacopters, and Abbotsford’s own Spitfires take notice. Destroy! Kill! Rawk! If you can’t dig this, get another shovel! - Mike Overcraft

Onion Flavored Rings Two Minutes Enlightenment No Idea This album is an energetic collection of jangly punk-tinged pop songs. If you can imagine Michael Stipe singing along happily to the Dead Milkmen while being humped in the bum by Jello Biafra’s wriggly little worm dink, not only are you a sick and demented human being, but you probably also have a good idea of what

Nerve: We’re guessing that this project was more work than you thought it would be. Any plans to do another volume? Nicole: We didn’t understand the extent and scope of the work. For us, the whole project was a daily ongoing learning process. We had some help from Gord Lewis of Teenage Head, who explained the process and terminology of contracts from the top down. If it weren’t for his help, it would have taken us another six months or so. And yes, we are planning future volumes. CD 2 (will) would encompass the years 1982 to 1984. The subsequent CD after that will cover 1985 to 1987, and then we’d like to start all over again at the beginning with a second volume for 1977 to 1981. Nerve: Did anyone want to know how much money they were going to get? (those poor deluded fools) Nicole: Money? People want money? Actually, a lot of the bands were flattered that we were going to be paying them because a few of them would have done this for free, but our policy has and always will be no band is to be treated differently and they are all entitled to the same amount. On a side note, for every online sale that we do we are donating $0.50 to charities of our choice who help street youth. Nerve: We need more chuckles and/or sexually explicit stuff here. Our readers demand funny smut. Please oblige. Nicole: Sorry, none of the bands sent in nude photos. And by the way, a piece of advice regarding smut: no matter what, if someone says you should check out “Tub Girl”, DON’T! - Chris Walter

Onion Flavored Rings sound like. Now that I’ve planted that image in your head, tell me honestly - don’t you agree that Jello Biafra likely has a prehensile penis? Of course he does! Alternative Tentacles??? Come on, it’s blatant! - Devon Cody The Scramblers Good Gone Bad Heart of Texas Back in ‘86, when most - if not all - of the great hardcore bands had gone metal, there wasn’t much left to listen to, and I started to get desperate. I’m not sure how I first heard about the Scramblers, but I think someone told me that one of the guitar players used to be in a legendary Vancouver punk band called Slow. Whatever the reason, I went to see the Scramblers when they played Winnipeg, and I liked their sleazy brand of badass rock ‘n’ roll so much that I spent my last few dollars on one of their t-shirts. In fact, I still have that paper-thin t-shirt somewhere. Now, almost 20 years later, I’m finally getting a chance to revisit those beery yet glorious days. And you know what? This shit still stomps my ass

right into the floor. - Chris Walter

Screeching Weasel Kill the Musicians Asian Man There are some benefits to my life as a music-press hack. You’re probably thinking that it’s the six digit income (fictional), the endless supply of groupies (in my head) or the international fame (in my dreams) that I r/c for my services. Not so! As an admitted non-recovering music junkie from So-Cal, it’s the opportunity to review (and keep) the albums by groups that helped to form the “complicated” (unstable) personality traits I exhibit today. Screeching (along with the likes of Big Drill Car, Sublime and Eazy-E) is easily one of the biggest pieces of the puzzle I call my youth. This is absolutely the most eclectic and complete compilation album ever released by SG, including a couple B-sides that even I - the dedicated fan - haven’t heard before. This album is critical to all developing minds. - High Plains Drifter

THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 23

Off The Record

Screeching Weasel Weaselmania Fat Wreck Chords If you don’t already own the 14 albums that went into the making of this package, then I urge you to rush out and pick this up. Since Weaselmania is a ‘best of’ affair, there is no filler at all here, and every track is an absolute fist-in-the-air, sing-along hit. Sure, I realize that Screeching Weasel have been accused of unleashing the virus known as ‘emo’ on the world, but if that was true, then Screeching Weasel would suck, and they do not. Instead, this is fast, irreverent, and funny pop punk with plenty of attitude and chutzpah. Yes, I said CHUTZPAH! DO YOU HEAR ME, MOTHERFUCKERS, CHUTZPAH! And no, chutzpah is not a paste made from almonds. - Chris Walter

Suplecs Powtin’ on the Outside, Pawty on the Inside Nocturnal The Suplecs are a hard rock band based out of New Orleans. Not unlike Hurricane Katrina, they are poised to decimate your eardrums with the release of their third fulllength album on November 8th. Powtin’… is a groove-heavy weapon of mass destruction aimed at obliterating all the make-up and tattoo-swathed trendsters grooming their way to record deals. The Suplecs have brought Corrosion of Conformity’s Pepper Keenan on board for this album as producer. Led by this veteran soldier in the battle against gimmick-rock, they are as unrelenting in their attack as George W is on non-believing brown people. - Devon Cody

Taproot Blue-Sky Research Atlantic Don’t be dissuaded by the fact that these guys will be on tour with Staind and P.O.D this fall. This is, hands down, the best release in this genre since A Perfect Circle’s Mer de Noms. Actually, Taproot bears similarity to A Perfect Circle in many aspects as both bands even have incestuous ties to Billy Corgan - the pig-headed Pumpkins frontman had a hand in co-writing three of the songs for this album in the early stages of its development. The comparison to APC ends, however, when you consider that this is the third release from these guys and is not a shitty cop-out collection of cover songs. Blue-Sky Research is a wonderfully textured creation that alternately pets and pummels your ear holes. It will most definitely be going into heavy rotation, first on my stereo then, much to my dismay, on the radio. - Devon Cody

Tender Forever The Soft and the Hardcore K In the same vein as confessional songwriters Julie Doiron and Guyville-ear Liz Phair, Tender Forever (née Melanie Valera) plays unashamedly emotive bedroom-pop heavy on the earnest and carefree. Listening to this Bordeaux-bred chanteuse feels like eavesdropping on her most heart-felt conversations or flipping through a left-open

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diary: a little uncomfortable, but eerily captivating. With her quaint French accent and soothing arrangements (distinctively DIY guitar with touches of basic IDM thrown into the mix), Tender Forever makes an economical and engaging album with few “oh no you didn’t” moments. - Adam Simpkins

Thrice Vheissu Island Thrice is not your typical post-punk/hardcore band. For starters, I don’t think there’s a single song crying about girls on this entire album. Secondly, they named this album after a Thomas Pynchon novel – ‘Vheissu’ is a code word for a network of world-wide secret tunnels at Mount Vesuvius. What does that tell you about Thrice? I couldn’t say, exactly, but I can tell you this much: this album fucking SHREDS. While Vheissu lacks a radio-friendly pop single like “Staring at the Sun” or “Deadbolt”, Thrice more than compensates in creative expression and ball-blowing technical expertise. It says RIGHT THERE IN THE LINER NOTES that they had the choice of two producers — one could deliver them a hit record, one could give them the album THEY wanted. Thrice rolled with the latter, and they get huge points for maintaining their integrity. If Thrice were the Beatles, this would be their Revolver — the point where they had the choice between commercial success or creative exploration. Nobody will ever be able to say they made the wrong choice. - Derek Bolen Deep Purple Rapture of the Deep Eagle Their best since Bananas. - Adrian Mack

Music

t may come as a surprise to you people, but small labels need just as much love and affection as the big corporate ones, you know. Wounded Paw Records has been surviving in Toronto’s underground scene for close to ten years, now. The man known simply as Preston launched the label in ’97 with a 7” release by his own band, the Spazmz, followed by a full length a year later. Even though he initially used the label as a way to get his own music to the masses, Wounded Paw has since released close to 20 albums from its roster of 10 Toronto-area based bands. When the Spazmz embarked on a lengthy hiatus,

Worst CD of the Month

Hey, look what I found in the litterbox!

The other Washington monument.

Tarantula Metalmorphosis AFM Holy patron saint of cum! Tarantula is back with a reunion album that begs the question - did Jesus die for our sins, or did he just hand himself over to the Jew in order to escape any responsibility for these wretched old Portuguese men and their tireless production of audio-fied rape? Not to mention guitarist Paulo Barros’ mullet. Is it still 1986 in Portugal,

Preston chose to provide the world with angelic crust and grindcore via his new project, the Murder Squad t.o. again on Wounded Paw. The man is clearly a machine in the punk rock scene in Stink Town, running his label, putting on shows, playing shows, dabbling in the studio side of things, and generally getting his bands’ material out on the streets. Wounded Paw corners every side of the punk rock coin. For starters, there’s the Antics, a snotty, dirty punk rock band that blasts out three chord gutter punk for the suburbanites to key their parent’s car to. The Polidicks are a full equation of death, metal and grind, mixed with old school punk rock ‘n’ roll from Kingston, Ontario. Then you have the Sinkin’ Ships, which features a couple of old school members of the now defunct 2 Pump Louie, lambasting their crowds with fuel driven punk rock in the vein of Johnny Cash meeting Social D tickling Tsunami Bomb’s balls. Not too sure which side of the coin these guy’s land on, but the 3tard’s and their “asscore” genre of punk bring a fresh sense of humour to the table. Not every band can be that serious. Obviously, you gotta be a tough son-of-a-fuck to survive in the music industry, especially when you’re on your own. “Getting distro is a bitch,” Preston snarls. You don’t have to tell me twice about that. He has recently joined forces with Spinerazor Records (also out of Toronto), and they now plan world domination. First Toronto, then Wawa, and then - you get the idea. Preston also plans to get his entire roster on the road early next year. Could we actually see some Wounded Paw bands attack the west coast? I know it’s hard to leave the centre of the universe, but one could only pray that they do. www.woundedpaw.com - Plow

by the way? Is Tarantula somehow currently opening for Iron Maiden on the Somewhere in Time tour? The answer - a resounding “NO!” Accompanied by a slap in the face to snap Tarantula out of its hazy mist of man orgy cum, which has clearly blinded them. The ironically flaming pictures in the CD booklet are easily the most enjoyable things I found in my short and regretful experience with these gigantic man tampons. On the cover, we have a woman with six arms. They no doubt came in very useful for her starring role in American Bukkake 6, but sadly, in this context, such baroque silliness only furthers the image of mentally challenged metal that plagued the ‘80s. Who is this really intended for, anyway? The Portuguese chapter of NAMBLA? Does Uncle Pablo listen to Metalmorphosis while he waves his cock in the face of a 12-year-old boy, singing, “You’re a slave of ambition / who answers to no master / a self-proclaimed messiah / who will lead us to disaster”. This is basically DIO with another douche singing songs about dying, hell and the difficulties of pissing with an erection after drinking too much fortified Portuguese wine and juvie pecker snot. Like the smell of an obese man’s balls after pedaling his bike across town uphill – Metalmorphosis is something you’d probably choose to not experience. I am now officially arachnaphobic. -David Von Bentley

–

Feist / Jason Collett / New Buffalo Commodore Ballroom, Vancouver, BC Wednesday, October 5th, 2005 On the upside, no one requires a background on Leslie Feist, so we can join the story when my lady and I climb the Commodore stairs and she comments to me that she can already feel her menstrual cycle syncing up with a thousand others in the room. Yup, it was a girl-show for sure, but the couple hundred guys in the room (myself included) were just as keen and fully content, if even a little titillated. It was packed with an adoring crowd who erupted into cheers when Feist joined fellow Broken Social Scenester Jason Collett for a duet, and then proceeded to become his already-better-than-Meg-White drummer. When it came to go-time, Feist was every bit as sexy, idiosyncratic, mesmerizing, talented, raw and gorgeous as her emerging legend suggests, and still just as personable and engaging as she was at her Richard’s show over a year ago now, before she went supernova. She covered all of her hits, did that wicked brokendown, flamenco-styled, baby-I-reallywanna-get-wit-you version of “Inside and Out”, half a dozen newer songs (all just as Feist-y), messed around with the delay pedal, lead choruses (snapping and mushaboom-ing with the crowd), and brought Collett back to do more Broken Social Scene stuff. In cementing her Canadian Superwoman status, she also found time to talk on a fan’s cell phone to apologize to some chick who was stuck outside without a ticket, and when a girl close to the stage passed out, falling like a sack of potatoes (some serious medical condition, whispers had it), it was our Saint Leslie who jumped off the stage (you coulda heard a pin drop at that point), helped get the (still trembling, extremely embarrassed) girl onto her feet and into the warm and sweaty, slightly-calloused hands of Commodore security. A two-hour set, a kick-ass show, and she practically saves a fuckin’ life. Now THAT’s hot! - The Man from K.U.R.T.I.S.

NIN

Nine Inch Nails / Queens of the Stone Age Pacific Coliseum, Vancouver, BC Monday Sept. 26th, 2005 Of course we love ‘em, but the Coliseum sure wasn’t kind to Queens of the Stone Age tonight. The splotchy sound – no doubt hampered by my Herculean distance from the stage – put a helluva clamp on those fuzz sexy riffs. Joey Castillo’s funky drum efforts were in vain – I rarely heard anything but the snare. Josh Homme, now the undisputed QOTSA fuehrer, seemed a little tipsy, and dedicated two songs to ‘fucking’, and another two to the ol’ boozeroony. In the “No One Knows” finale, Homme (who looks EXACTLY look my buddy Colin) took a stab at a brief, unaccompanied mid-tune Jimmy Page noodle. Troy Van Leeuwen, stolen from A Perfect Circle, jostled out a lap-steel and made me swoon. But it wasn’t enough. We really needed Nick Oliveri’s gonzo presence: maybe a cock hangin’

Subhumans / Rebel Spell / Badamps W.I.S.E. Hall, Vancouver Saturday, Oct 1st , 2005 We brought our five-year old boy Frank to the afternoon all-ages show, but alas, arrived too late to see the Badamps. This is inexcusable, and I should be stripped of my journalist papers and flogged mercilessly. Good thing I don’t have any papers, cigarette or otherwise. Soon the Rebel Spell kicked out the jams, and ruptured the stillness of the quiet East Vancouver neighbourhood. It’s hard for me to be unbiased about the ‘Spell, because I thought they were great when they first started, and they only get better. It was cool to see the young fans slamming away in the pit, all of them young enough to be my kids. And no, I didn’t move to Vancouver until 92’ so THEY’RE NOT MINE! The Rebel Spell play with conviction and energy, and are everything you could ask for in a punk band: catchy, passionate, and intense, with lots of good sing-along choruses. My boy Frank liked ‘em, and five-year olds will always give you an honest answer when you ask them something like that, so there ya go. Up next, the original Subhumans, but with that Jon Card guy on drums, whoever he is. Watching the band play, a surreal feeling crept over me. I mean, here I was, watching a band that had broken up 24 years ago with a son that I shouldn’t have been able to produce. Note: always have a doctor check to see if your vasectomy worked. Anyway, medical bungling aside, the band cranked out all the hits, old and new, while the kids, WHO ARE NOT MY KIDS, bashed each other merrily in the pit. It was amusing to see the cute l’il dar-

Rebel Spell

loose, maybe throttling a groupie or two with his bitch-snake of a goatee. Wish I had been with it enough to see the original line-up years ago at the Starfish Room. But NIN, who supposedly I’m no big fan of, was awesome. Couldn’t quite shake that time-warp feeling – this could at times have been a Depeche Mode dance-off, mid-ME decade (though I’m a bit foreign to this bare-boned poppy industrial stuff…), but strangely I didn’t give a damn. Hiding behind curtains for the opener “Pinion”, trying to spark the mystique up to a fever pitch, NIN burst like a rubber bullet through Brandon Lee’s heart, roaring through tracks from every album. Mid-set, they pulled the curtains down again, this time using them as makeshift projector screens for a full trilogy of tunes. Scrolling static, plenty of ‘world sucks’ doc footage, an evolutionary chain of amoeba, bugs, mammals, birds, up to humans killing humans. The cold, angular stage-set fit this general bleakness like a scuba suit, unlike with poor QOTSA, who were plagued by a super-depressing grey backdrop when they’re supposed to be all bright and jumpy. Trent Reznor… boy I just HATED that guy back in the day. But there’s no disputing his mass of energy and big oily workout muscles now. Dude’s off the drugs, I suppose, and lost his hair. His voice was tops. Guitarist Aaron North threw a major Axl Rose hissy fit at one point, tossing his mic stand at his 4x12 cab like a javelin. The poor boy seemed violently on edge for the show’s duration; not enough to do, just biding time rock star struttin’, busting out a behemoth chord every now and then, while the programmer beeped his boops and the drums & bass (courtesy of Twiggy Ramirez) copped a groove. That’s what you get for signing up second fiddle on someone else’s gig! The crowd was manic – “Hurt”, with Reznor and keyboard all alone at the foot of the stage – got a response fit for an emperor. The uproar after first chorus damn near ruptured the old Canuck-house in two! I’m surprised Trent didn’t give a shout out to the late Mr. Cash for putting this vital tune on top again. “Closer”, “Head Like a Hole”, “Starfuckers, Inc.” all got the big raves, but nothing quite like that. And get this: NO ENCORE. NIN knew when and how to end (with a smashed guitar), and they did, god bless ‘em, putting me in the mood to fight, dance, and fuck: all the rock n’ roll basics! NIN’s unending angst still annoys me to no end… but fine Trent, you win. Good bloody show. (And a mighty Nerve thanks to Ms. Random Girl outside the Coliseum who gave my girlfriend a free ticket. Wherever you are – the trumpets of Jesus salute you.) - Dave Bertrand PHOTO: JACKIE DIVES

Farrell Bros. / The Deadcats / Slow Poke & the Smoke Marine Club, Vancouver, BC Thursday, Sept 29th, 2005 I walked into the Marine Club with a doo-wop tune as my soundtrack. Instantly, I wished I had a pony-tailed, bubble-gum chewing chick in a poodle skirt on my arm, a tube of Brill Cream in my hair and a switchblade comb in my hand. I made a mental note to compliment the DJ on such a fine musical selection. But wait – this wasn’t coming from the DJ booth at all. This was the opening band, Slow Poke and the Smoke, laying down some dazzling doo-wop sounds. Yes people, doo-wop, complete with all the falsetto shoowop shoowahs and bassy yeaaaahs you would expect. This was fun and refreshing. The Deadcats started up about three beers later, when everyone was ready to get their dance on. They gathered in front of the stage as Deadcats’ bottleblonde beefcake bass player got things started with his standard gut-bucket and butane pyrotechnics. The set included several promising tracks from their upcoming album that are already becoming obvious crowd favourites. One particular audience member vented his excitement by encouraging Mick, the wifebeater-clad guitar player to, “show more skin.” Thankfully, Mick didn’t comply. The Farrell Bros. opened their set with the title track from their latest album, “This is a Riot”. Although the audience response wasn’t exactly riotous at first, these Manitoba boys played like pros, maintaining a fiercely high-energy output with a surprisingly modest stage presence. It only took a few songs before they

had everyone singing along to the chorus of “Burning Desire” with such enthusiasm that I was inclined to turn to the audience and just stare and smile like a retard. This crowd loved the Farrell’s no-frills all fun punk-rockabilly, and I was loving the crowd for debunking the routine complaints we hear about Vancouver audiences. With everyone left sweaty, smiling and spent, the Farrell Bros. couldn’t have picked a more appropriate closing song for the evening than “It’s All Right Tonight.” - Devon Cody

PHOTO: JEN DODDS

Dropkick Murphys / Gang Green / Lost City Angels / Darkbuster Commodore Ballroom, Vancouver, BC Wednesday, October 19th, 2005 We arrived promptly at 8:45 because we didn’t want to miss Darkbuster, but they had already started. I went up and threw a copy of Nerve magazine with an interview of Darkbuster onto the stage. The singer picked it up and showed the audience the article. I like this band, and they did not disappoint, even playing my favourite song last. It looked as if it would be a good evening. Lost City Angels came on, and though they played loud, fast street punk, something seemed to be missing. They had all the moves, and put lots of energy into the show, so I felt that I should have enjoyed them more than I did. Maybe it was just that I didn’t know the songs. Also, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate the armed forces, but it seems a bit much to dedicate songs to the US troops in Iraq. When was the last time that the USA fought a war where they were actually defending their country? Anyway… Gang Green were up next, and they got off to a bit of a shaky start. I didn’t even recognize the first song until it was half over. Fortunately, they stuck to the songs about booze that everyone wanted to hear, and not the metal shite they slid into in the late ‘80s. They got it together, and you have to hand it to a 40+ year old guy who can still whip off his shirt and dive into the pit. Yay Gang Green! Then, of course, the Dropkick Murphys. They could have played “Mary Had a Little Lamb”, and their fans would have still gone apeshit. It seems like only a little while ago that they were this little band from Boston that only a few of us knew about. Damn, that was almost ten years ago already! Anyway, I’m not the biggest DKM fan anymore, but it’s hard not to enjoy a band that always has at least six musicians onstage. I think I liked the traditional Irish folk songs they did better than most of their original stuff. It was a lively show, with most of the audience joining them on stage at the end. Sneaky way to get out of an encore, though… - Chris Walter

Live Wires

lings scream “FUCK YOU!” at the tops of their lungs as they demanded an encore. The Subhumans didn’t keep us waiting long before coming out to perform the crowd favourite, tempting me to wash everyone’s mouths out with soap. Too bad the cops shut down the evening show after it degenerated into a drunken punch-up. It must have reminded the Subhumans that the more things change, the more they stay the same. - Chris Walter

Million Dollar Marxists / the Draft / Third Lit Pub 340, Vancouver October 4/05 We arrived late and missed Third Lit. Damned if that doesn’t take the cake for sloppy rock journalism. I deserve a big ol’ bitch slap for that! The Draft were up next, and it sounded like they might even have practiced, unlike before a certain book launch they did in late September. Full of enthusiasm and youthful drunken vigour, they hammered and bashed at their instruments, producing a noise not unlike a train derailment or a nasty industrial accident. In fact, when they fell all over their gear at the end of the set, paramedics were standing by to carry away the injured. Those darned punk rockers, always busting stuff up! Then, the return of the Million Dollar Marxists. Like the last time they played Vancouver, the bar was halfempty, and again, I couldn’t understand the dismal turnout. Apparently, it’s just me who thinks that the Million Dollar Marxists are one of the best punk rock outfits currently roaming the planet. When I hear them, I want to set fires, I want to break things, I want to start a revolution. I want to climb to a rooftop naked, and scream like a banshee until the police shoot me with tazers and drag me away. Tonight was more of the same - a blistering set of old songs mixed with new, performed with enough energy to light the town of Chilliwack for a month. It didn’t seem to bother the Marxists that fans of the Draft had already retired to the smoking room, and the band played as if in front of a

delirious audience of thousands. And they should have been. Someday, when Million Dollar Marxists implode due to lack of support, people will listen to their records and say, “Whatever happened to those guys, anyway? They kicked some serious fuckin’ ass!” At least I’ll be able to say I told you so. - Chris Walter

Nada Surf / Love and Mathematics Richards on Richards Tuesday, October 18th, 2005 Just before I walked onto Dix on Prix, a couple of little shits thinkin’ they know a little something about nuttin’ approached me. “Gimme yer wallet!” this little snot exclaims. Now I don’t take lightly to this kinda gibberish. I asks the little puke to repeat himself. “Gimme yer fuckin’ wallet” he demands again. In my younger days, I wouldn’t have even said as much as I did and those two runny nose, lazy ass turds woulda been seein’ little tweety birds spinning around their tiny heads. But I’m older now, and since that disease is still in me, I just can’t keep the weight on. So, I gotta come at this situation a little different. “I don’t think you wanna be doing that,” I says. That fucker goes to pull out a knife. Now I’ve seen this move too many times, and I make my move and boot fuck that kid square in the balls, and he falls like the twin towers. I then grab his scrawny little friend and wail on him till all he sees is black. And that little fucker bled on me. Great. Now I gotta see a rock show with blood on my hands. I know the ladies don’t like to see that. If those fuckers spoil my night, I thought, I’ll track ’em down and really teach them a lesson. Love or Math or whatever was already playin’. I liked what I heard. Flashes caught my ear and I paid attention. It doesn’t happen often for me with an opening act. If they play again, I’ll go. Nada Surf do great power pop trio shit. If you missed it, I’m glad, cause a three quarters full club is the most comfortable for me. -Trucker Bill

THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 25

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Film

Short Ends smaller and not as funny as cheap shotz Rap in Film News

50 Cent has a new movie coming out called Get Rich or Die Tryin’ and it’s getting a heavy Oscar buzz for Fiddy’s gritty and realisitic portrayal of a gang banger slash rapper who deals drugs and probably gets shot a few a times. The part was originally written for Ron Howard but 50 Cent won the role with a spirited audition. More Rap News

50 Cent: far too old and black to “publicly date” Tom Cruise

Our prayers go out to rapper Cam’ron who got shot while driving his custom $250,000 blue Lamborghini through one fo the worst ghettos in North America. Killa Cam doing fine and quoted as saying ”I got shot three times and my album comes out Nov. 22” while leaving the hospital. Purple City Bird Gang 4 life.

Light Sabre-ing the Dead Space Horse Dear Brad, Well I do have another letter for you which I will send along and would like to have this run in the next issue. I am also prepared to stop by with some accurate data on Scientology - just for the record. Your article [in the September 2005 issue] was pretty offensive and not very funny. I’m surprised that you would go to such a hate monger for your story. I think you should stick to music review of hardcore groups and drop the yellow journalism. Susan Kerr vancouver@scientology.net

Okay, Now Just Film News Made in Secret: The Story of the East Van Porn Collective will be screening at the Pacific Cinematheque on November 11 and 12. It’s getting a bit of a buzz on the Indie film circuit and might have frontal nudity so go

Film

see it. cinematheque.bc.ca Resfest will also be running on November 11 and 12 and there will also be frontal nudity. resfest.com

Katie Holmes is knocked up. That is all. thesuperficial.com/archives/001038. html Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire opens November 18. This is the fourth installment of Harry Potter and it’ll probably be good; the other three were. It’s cool to admit you liked them. We won’t Collins Jr. & Hoffman: can’t produce eggs, make fun of you. Not thus not fit to “publicly date” Tom Cruise. too sure Great in Capote though. Happy, Mom? what this one’s about an Oscar buzz. The only reason I’m mentioning but from the trailer it this movie is because my brother is an looks like Hermione associate producer of the film and threatened has graduated from a to withold Christmas gifts if I don’t give it a plug. training bra to a real My mother would like me to add that she is one. extremely proud of her son Kyle.

Hermione: about two years away from being physically developed enough to “publicly date” Tom Cruise

Hey nerds. The feature film version of Aeon Flux starring Charlize Theron is out Decmber 2. So leave the nerdery and go nerd it up in the theatre, you fucking nerds. Capote just opened and is getting a bit of

Movie Pick: Batman Begins Seriously, this movie is amazing. I know it might be a tad a mainstream and any boost this magazine gives it is moot. But it’s so good, everything about it. Except Katie Holmes, who’s an idiot and fortunately has been dropped from the sequel, which I can’t wait for. I’d wager to say it’s the best Hollywood summer movie ever made. Go on, try to think of a better summer movie blockbuster. I dare you. You know why I dare you? Because I’m right.

THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 27

Worst Cd

Off The Record Film

THE WARRIORS

I HATE YOU MOM Another Winner from Rockstar

By Michael Mann

lot of people will try to tell you that Wild Style is the best early black urban culture film. These people are wrong. Call them on it and they’ll be quick to point out the cultural importance of how people who were “living the culture” in the early ‘80s were cast in roles. But ultimately, this only makes the movie good from an anthropological perspective and doesn’t change the fact that from a movie watcher’s perspective, Wild Style is a hokey piece of shit. The best early film that shows black urban culture is, of course, The Toy starring Richard Pryor. But The Toy and Wild Style would make boring video games, and in 2005 that’s how we should be measuring the cultural implications of a movie. In 1965 when Sol Yurick got his novel The Warriors published he probably wasn’t thinking it’d go on to be made into a classic cult film with a soundtrack that every hip-hop DJ on the face of the planet would have in their record bag. In 1979, when Walter Hill’s low budget adaptation of Sol Yurick’s novel hit the screens, it’s doubtful he was imagining that it’d make a great video game. Granted, in 1979 the Intellivison just hit the streets, had 7k of RAM, was capable of reproducing 16 colors on your screen and had a sound generator that could make a three part harmony. But still, they weren’t thinking about video games. Ironically, Sol Yurick was anticipating his novel getting made into a video game back in 1965, try and explain that. The Warriors might be the match that lit the gas soaked cross that is the proud tradition of rich white people ripping off black urban culture. Director Walter Hill (48 Hours, Another 48 Hours and the odd episode of Nerve approved HBO series Deadwood) originally only wanted to cast blacks and Hispanics. A neat idea but PAGE 28 THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005

this was quickly vetoed by the studio. It’s set on the night when a local gang leader/prophet Cyrus tries to unite every gang in New York, but for no apparent reason gets shot. The Warriors, an up-and-coming gang, get blamed. With 100,000 gang members, all with their own unique quirks, after them, the Warriors must make it back to their home turf at Coney Island. It features a shit hot soundtrack that’s actually part of this chase movie’s plot as the seductively voiced radio DJ gives on-the-air info to all the other gangs on the status and location of The Warriors between tracks. Shot on location in the Bronx, Coney Island and Queens, the cast and crew literally had to watch what colours they were wearing depending on the neighbourhood they were shooting in. It was a hit when it came out but got pulled from screens when gang violence erupted in theaters and outbreaks of youth violence were blamed on the film. This, of course, would cement The Warriors place as a classic cult work. Given Rockstar’s well-documented history of breaking ground in the video game medium and simultaneously pissing off your parents, it seems like a match made in heaven. And this game does break new ground. It’s offering a

paradigm shift from the traditional video game model of rushing to release a crappy game that coincides with the release of the film so the two products cross-promote each other. Instead of that nonsense, Rockstar Toronto has taken the time to develop a good movie into a good game. Predictably, other game companies will be releasing The Godfather, Scarface, and Reservoir Dogs - which are all slated for release in 2006. The game takes place well before the rally where Cyrus gets shot. And there are even submissions where you get to learn the origin of the gang. The Warriors offers linear mission based gameplay as opposed to Grand Theft Auto where you can just run around and fuck shit up for the hell of it. You can run around your hood and fuck some shit up for the hell of it but no, you can’t blow up a police helicopter with a rocket launcher on a whim. Remember, this was in the ghetto in the late ‘70s and rocket launchers weren’t readily available. You can huck a Molotov cocktail at a cop car instead though. You can also snort cocaine (they call it rush) to recover your energy and there’s even one challenge where you have to get wasted on drugs and complete a

...if you’re a Good Samaritan and give a drunken hobo a dollar they’ll tell you where all the drug dealers in the neighbourhood are.

mission with the screen all blurry. The graphics are great, it has the entire Warriors original soundtrack and you can rip off car stereos. Each mission is usually led by a different member of the Warriors and it’s up to you to instruct them what to do. You get to run around doing typical gang stuff: smuggling drugs, mugging people, shaking down business owners for protection money and of course there’s ample opportunity to kick the crap out of all your favourite gangs from the movie. My favourite thing to do is to grapple an opponent then slam their face against a wall. Another fun thing you can do in this game is purchase spray paint and throw up the Warriors tag over rival gang tags. It should be noted that all the graffiti in the game was designed by SSUR who make clothes you can’t afford and probably wouldn’t even know where to buy. All in all, this game’s a winner and you should probably buy it instead of an overpriced SSUR t-shirt… seriously, for the price of one of these shirts you could buy a copy of this game. A lot of parents and politicians have complained about some of the games Rockstar have released saying they’re morally reprehensible because they glorify humping, violent murder and cop killing. I imagine a lot of these concerned parents will be taken back when they see how The Warriors game promotes good will towards men. For example, if you’re a Good Samaritan and give a drunken hobo a dollar they’ll tell you where all the drug dealers in the neighbourhood are. Presumably they stuck this feature in to quell all controversy and finally shut your bitch of a mom up who keeps ruining all the fun for the rest of us. What’s her problem anyways? n

Skate

Parks Board Skatepark Strategy To quote parks planner Michel Desrochers, “Park Board staff have prepared, with the help of many skateboarders (600 skateboarders filled in questionnaires), a Skateboard Strategy which will now be forwarded to the Park Board Commissioners (our seven elected park politicians) for their review and, hopefully, approval. As you can guess, this is an important step.” The Skateboard Strategy will be dealt with on Monday, October 31st at 7:00 pm, 2099 Beach Avenue, Vancouver. The overview responses are included on page 4 of the staff report: http://vancouver.ca/parks/board/2005/051031/skateboard_strategy.pdf To contact the Parks Board about China Creek or skateparks in general, call 604-257-8529. For extra info: http://vancouver.ca/parks/info/planning/skateboard/index.htm. Without getting into too much detail, the Skate Spot thinks the Strategy is a good general blueprint for further skatepark development in Vancouver and should be supported.

China Creek The decision on the future of China Creek skatepark is now in its final stages. Over 250 people signed the petition to not tear down the park, and at the last meeting the existing park got a lot of support from the skating community and pro-skateboard neighbours. The Parks Board will make their final decision this month. 70% of respondents, skateboarders and non-skateboarders, voted to keep the existing park. Within skateboarders, that figure rose to 90%. The general consensus seemed to be that one could address specific noise, bathroom facility, lighting, and visual concerns without tossing the bathtub out with the bathwater. If you have any further comments, email ‘em to michel.desrochers@ vancouver.ca. Leeside There was a Hastings-Sunrise Community-wide Meeting October 23 at the Hastings Community Centre. For info, or to be part on the ongoing development of Leeside as a skate/bmx park, get in touch with Matt Smed at leeside-info@vancouvercommunity.net. City Planning will be continuing to work on getting people and resources together and we should know something more about the specific direction that the Leeside Project will be heading in by the end of this month. Bowl Series Both Horseshoe Bay and Hastings hosted bowl events the weekend of the 29th/30th, just after Skate Spot press time, but both were probably rained out, which brings us to the...

RDS Indoor Now that we’re in perma-rainy season, it’s time to hit up the RDS indoor. The Wednesday late night vert sessions are going strong, but don’t let that stop from dropping in. There’s a regular vert session Wednesdays also, and all skill levels are welcome. RDS skatepark will host the Santa Cruz video premiere for ‘Out There’, on Saturday Kathy Miller, November 12th at 3:00 p.m. The next West 49 free session is on November 7th. Stop by and skate the indoor anytime from 3:30-10:00 p.m. PHOTO: RHIANNON BADER

SHREDITORIAL: Waterworld

popshuv at the Plaza Johnny B’s kickflip pivot on Stevie’s board, which was in mid-axle stall… in their ongoing quest for bigger and better things, the Slugs then recruited Calgarian Brandon for some coordinated team action that had to be seen to be appreciated… Gord’s got it on tape if you missed it… the Boot after-party saw everyone in fine form… Dave Boyce skipping his own “King of Bowls 2005” crowning ceremony… Death Sentence playing with drummer Donut’s arm in a sling… free beers courtesy of “the Narc”… The Boot Pub parking lot shanty-town after-after-party... inviting a young lady back to “my condo”… said girl leaving with the quickness after realizing that I was referring to my mattress-equipped Volvo wagon… various nefarious activities taking place on the Hearse’s hood, much to my chagrin… a Boot employee discovering Brandon sleeping under a car and sending him packing… waking up in time to see Rosie and Gorgeous George slither out of a cozy nylon taco… Luke shotgunning a beer in the Wildwood Country Club parking lot as a penalty for missing work… yeah, that was Whistler all right. - reported on-site by Jeff Chan “grand_wazoo@hotmail.com”

-D-Rock and Miss Kim. Email valuable prizes to downspace@ telus.net or check downspace.com for nudity solutions.

Rellik video premiere – “Faces in the Crowd” It’s no secret that the heart of the skateboard industry is in California, and while that means that skaters in other parts of the world can go about their business without having to deal with too much hype, it also means that countless great skaters don’t get the coverage that they deserve. Take the Rellik team for example. Adam McNatt, Kris Foley, Alex Rothbauer, Dwight Pineau, Roger Bruinsma, Craig Williams, Devin Wilson, Dylan Costello, Derek Longo, Rene Zimmermann, Olivier Desrochers and Ben Langevin all rip, but how many people outside their immediate circles know these guys? (except for Adam, of course, who has semi-legendary status) Not nearly enough. Hopefully this Rellik video will help shed some light on the boys. Faces in the Crowd is getting a “fuck yeah” from me because not only does the Rellik team destroy every kind of terrain and all your favourite spots, but they also travelled the world to seek out a bunch of spots that you’ve never seen. Taiwan? Panama? Yes. Combine that with solid editing from Mr. Chris Wheeler and a killer soundtrack and you’ve got yourself a winner. As an admitted tranny dog, my favourite part was Roger’s, followed closely by Foley and Craig, but there’s tons of good shit to be had here. Dylan and Alex had rad parts… I liked Ben’s Big O segment… the Slug Bowl got love from almost everyone on the team… and Adam obviously threw down on the street tech tip. Everyone’s parts were good though, and given the space, I could ramble on for a while. But space is tight here at the Skate Spot, so this is all you get. It makes me cringe to think that there are kids out there watching a 411 video that’s better suited to treating insomnia or training robots rather than watching this video and seeing what skateboarding should be. It just ain’t right. So support the good shit and buy Faces in the Crowd (it should be out by the time you read this), you won’t be disappointed. - Jeff Chan “grand_wazoo@hotmail.com

the Whistler comp was a full weekend of great skating and ridiculous antics aplenty. Doles got everything off to a rousing start by scuffling with an out-of-his-blazin’-skull parks ranger… Stevie D destroyed the place and won, surprise surprise… Mitchy charged his way into second place… Dave Boyce switch-ripped into third despite taking a vicious slam to the ribs… Steve Lange flung his longboard into a threeflip out of the bong hit… Tosh Osaka blasted huge transfers… that little Kye dude is a fucking shredder… 57 was ripping but suffered from a case of the bad luck, taking a slam and then breaking his board during the finals… the doubles event turned into a tombstone showdown that saw sluggery triumph over precision when Rosie’s rock’n’roll on Luke’s gut edged out

PHOTO: RHIANNON BADER

Nugget, China Creek

PHOTO: JEFF CHAN

“To be honest officer… I think he’s on something” Here at Skate Spot we strive to bring you news as soon as it happens, hence this report on August 21st’s Whistler Bowl Series. As always,

Marina, noseslide. THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 29

Hanging J

By CC Rose

olene got on her bike. The cool wind bit at her ears. She pulled up her hood. Fall was coming in and the rain had begun. The grey skies and relentless drizzle seemed to get a lot of people down, but Jolene loved it. The crisp air, the reds and yellows and oranges dotting the landscape, even the wet weather was fine with her. As long as it wasn’t pouring, she would ride her bike anywhere. You see so much more of the city that way, street level. A car cut her off. The driver hadn’t even seen her. “Fuckin’ idiot!” she cursed. It drove away, blowing hot, dark exhaust in her face. It just made her pedal faster. She got to a hill and a bum with a shopping cart was riding it down, full speed. She coasted past him and smiled. He was smiling too. She kept her distance from the rows of parked cars. No way she was getting doored. It had happened to this bike courier she knew and they had had to wire his jaw shut. One time, he had come over and she had ground spaghetti in a blender for him so he could drink it through a straw. It looked pretty gross but the poor guy said it was the best thing he had tasted in weeks. Maybe she would make spaghetti when she got home. She had the sauce, and some veggies and stuff. Did she have pasta though? She couldn’t remember. Maybe she should call Chris up and invite him over. She could go to the store and pick up some garlic bread, and maybe something for dessert. Something chocolatey. Oh, and red wine! Yeah, a big bottle of red. And a movie. He seemed to like Woody Allen style comedies. Was that presumptuous? Setting up a romantic atmosphere might put too much pressure on him. Create expectations. She wasn’t sure they were there yet. Sure they had done it

Precious Moments Ainsworth

Fiction

in the bathroom at that party, but they had since gotten over the awkwardness of the next day and started hanging out again. Things were still a little weird though. She hoped one day it wouldn’t be weird. Maybe today would be that day. Maybe she should call him. Maybe they’ll have a fantastic conversation, over a tasty meal, and after a couple of glasses of red wine they’ll move over to the couch and watch a funny movie and laugh. As if nothing was ever awkward between them. As if nothing had ever happened. She got to a light and pulled out her cell phone to call. But what if he says he’s busy or something? Then she’ll have put out the ‘I want to see you’ vibes and he’ll have rejected her. Then she’ll be totally choked. After all, he had taken off from the bar without even saying goodbye the last time. He had hardly said a word to her all night and then he had just left. What if he doesn’t want to hang out anymore? Or worse, what if he’s seeing someone else? The light changed and she stuck her cell phone back in her bag. That’s silly though, who could he be seeing? That Alison girl? She’s so not right for him. Or that other one, whatshername, with the long, red hair. No, she’s way too young. He’d be stupid to bother with her. Wait, though. Come to think of it, she had mysteriously disappeared from the bar that night too. And they had been talking quite a bit. That little bitch! Jolene hopped up on the sidewalk and skidded to a stop. She pulled out her phone, dialed his number and placed it at her ear. Her hands were shaking and her heart was beating hard and fast and heavy. It rang. She hung up. n

Come to think of it, she had mysteriously disappeared from the bar that night too. And they had been talking quite a bit. That little bitch!

By J. Ainsworth

mailbox is like a womb, because you never can be sure what will tumble out of it. You could be expecting a new child, a proud son to raise as a sailor, and six months later out it pops, black as the ace of spades, evidence of a Faithless Wife, assuming you have one. And think how surprising it would be for a woman! A woman who had a womb, full of new life, and then, POW! A litter of puppies. “I…I.. didn’t… I didn’t’ realize…” sobs the woman, crying. Surprises all around, because of these Faithless Wives. I’m a Batchelor myself, thank God. So the mailbox is equal to the womb, okay. I was expecting a cheque. Oh, god, I would have welcomed a bill, or even an audit or a coupon. Not this. Not this Insult. Not this. Out of my mailwomb dropped a small box. It was a box of…. sanitary napkins. Rags for cleaning up a Woman’s Shame. Little cushions of disgrace that will never expunge Eve’s Sin in the Garden of Eden. The TAMPAX PEARL PLASTIC Company, because they are horrible, heinous flappers, sent me, a proud man, a box of Tampons, and I assure you it took all my guts to spell out that word, a word I will never use again because I will die before I use that word again. I want to make that clear. I’m apparently supposed to put them in my vagina to sop up my menses. Fuck Off. I haven’t got one. Still, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade! I was pleased to learn that TAMPAX PEARL PLASTIC thingies come in FOUR grades of absorbency, which is great beyond my wildest expectations. My unwanted grab-bag contained three cotton spears, all shaped like a syringe, which caused giggles and confusion. Each one came individually wrapped; I’m assuming to avoid vaginal infections? I’m no doctor, not a medical doctor anyway. I played around with them for awhile, and became, and I admit to becoming mildly aroused, and it really was fun to push in the plunger like I was some fiveyear old drug addict, pretending to be a bubble. Now, as I said, these little fuckers come in four grades of absorbency. Junior Absorbency will handle less than six grams of moisture, which is fine. So-called Regular Absorbency takes a mouthful, six to nine grams. Super Absorbency lives up to its name, laughing in disdain at a gusher up to twelve grams. It’s the heavyweight division that’s the most interesting, though: the Super Plus Absorbency will suck up a mouthwatering FIFETEEN GRAMS of lady drippings, whatever they are. (The little packet didn’t say). I was playing around with the Super plus Absorbency tiger when the Captain called, and

it is directly his fault I dipped it into my Tea. I thank him for that, though, because I saw something that not even Galileo saw. The little chap floated around for a second (my Teacup is a very large teacup, allowing for a… wide surface area on top) and then filled with tea, and then, like a mighty eagle, these wings, I can only call them wings, emerged from the side, like life born anew. It appears that women must have a lot more physical… space inside them than I ever dreamed possible. This explains a lot of things, really, and in a sexy, almost slutty, way. I told this to the Captain, who was frankly shocked. He told me to throw it against the wall, and I did. Let me tell you this, very little tea splashed out of the SUPER TAMPAX PLUS. I can really recommend this little bastard. Girls with menses! You should run to the shop now and buy one! Oh sweet Jesus, buy lots of them! Oh, God, I just don’t care anymore about your crotches, and what comes out of your crotches, but at least now I know how your crotches work because my sample package came with illustrations. I guess, thinking back on it now, it wasn’t meant to be an insult. They probably just sent them at random to different apartments, and it’s a mathematical truism that at least one box will wind up at the house of an effeminate straight man. I get one box, Klaus Nomi gets a box, and so on. Weeks later I went to the Orgy of the Dead, and saw bleeding out the nipples, which confused me in every way possible simultaneously even more, I guess. It was great. But it doesn’t change the simple fact that TAMPAX wasted marketing money on me. And it’s my fault. Thanks for reading. n

My unwanted grab-bag contained three cotton spears, all shaped like a syringe, which caused giggles and confusion.

PAGE 30 THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005

NERVE CROSSWORD

Comics

SUBMIT a finished crossword and you could win 2 PASSES to VALIENT THORR, NOV. 4th, at The Brickyard Vancouver B.C.

Bring your completed puzzles in person:to The Nerve office weekdays between 12- 5pm or you can mail them to:The Nerve 508-825 Granville St. Vancouver, BC V6Z-1K9

By Dan Scum

13 Across 1. full of pus! 16 6. Crush up as in potatoes 10. ___ Nasty feat. Dave Smalley 22 23 13. Sgt. Role for Steve Martin 28 14. Norse capital 15. the m in E=mc2 31 16. Relative of JC 17. A Bernardo OR a Dr. Phil 39 40 19. Stalk in the night 21. A puzzling riddle 48 22. What we be bustin’ (in asses) 52 24. Grim fellow 26. Tote along ardu55 ously 28. Matador’s acco59 lade 29. ___ ___ view 64 30. Fleck, Kiss ,or Lugosi 67 31. rug 33. Railroad abbr. 34. Fink and Simpson 35. Dull pain 37. Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome 39. The absence of light 42. Notre Dame 44. The general public 48. “I’m ____ James, bitch!” 49. A genetic type or a great stress 51. American airline 52. They go marching 2x2(hurrah!) 53. Butch of the Islanders or being done in by a bull 54. Distress or a part of the guitar 55. Paul of Iron Maiden or Dicksee of Powerclown 57. Lovable Australian bear 59. Rubbing alcohol 61. Taunts 64. Punishment in Singapore 65. Time for a hanging as “Hallowed be thy Name” 66. Nibbles 67. Seasonings manufacturer 68. ____ high 69. A heaty crime

Down 1. Public Broadcast System 2. EI formerly 3. One who loses footing or a piece of footwear

17 19

34 37

38 44

57 60

58 61

boot(BBAAMMMM!) 4. Certain candy bars 41. They speak louder than 5. Yono words 6. ______ Crue 43. Old School Texan hard7. Carbon residue core band 8. Snoozers 45. Sometimes they’re dire 9. Reynolds in “Boogie 46. One who gets tupped Nights” 47. Took a seat 10. Inventor of the internal 49. ___ __ _ Bitch! combustion engine 50. Leg joints 11. A physical attack 53. Axl, Slash and the boys 12. Unpopular Canadian tax 54. Wrestling’s Nature Boy 15. Miles per gallon Rick 18. Broadcast 56. Gorilla e.g. 20. Ire 58. Swedish pop band 22. Corrosion of Conformity 59. ____ bin ein Berliner! 23. In the style of 60. Maker of veggie back 25. Mo. After Mar. bacon 27. One of the 3 phases of 62. Vietnamese notorious BC matter car thief 29. Actor Gregory 63. US SIN 30. A fish or a 4-string guitar 32. Prepare for a trip or a Last Issue’s Solution: gang of wolves 34. An excellent source of fibre 36. Obeying the second law of thermodynamics 38. Mexican friend 39. A Californian term of endearment or a lady’s garment 40. Tennis player Davenport or the quirky superduperuberhot chicky that books the

Episode 18

THE NERVE NOVEMBER 2005 PAGE 31