The Nerve Magazine - November/December 2001 by The Nerve Magazine

The 2nd Anniversary Issue Vol. 2 No. 6 November/December 2001

FREE!!

in Vancouver and Victoria, BC

A Mag for Freedom’s Sake!

BRIAN SALMI SADDLESORES MIXMASTER MIKE CIVIXEN JEFF OLIVER

CONTENTS Features

Editor’s Blurb

Real McKenzies

Mix Master Mike

Saddlesores

Little Man in the Boat

Columns Brian Salmi

Jeff Oliver

Civixen

Dig That Groove

Visual Arts

Sections Nervous Response

Cartoons

Crossword Puzzle

Live Wires

Straight 8

Off the Record

Books and Zines

Blue Movies

Editor-in-Chief: Bradley C. Damsgaard Production Manager Pierre Lortie Contributing Editor: Heather Watson Film Editor: Elizabeth Nolan Design and Graphics: Pierre Lortie, Bradley C. Damsgaard, Staff Writers: Atomick Pete, A. D. MADGRAS, Mike O, Jeff Oliver, Elizabeth Nolan, addict, Casey Bourque, Sinister Sam, Jason Ainsworth, Leather Twatson, Adler Floyd, Aaronoid

Lianne Ledwon and Brian “Who’ Else got married on Halloween night at the romantic Cobal, of all the fuckin’ places... Anyway, from all of us in Nerveland, congrats and good luck!

Welcome, fellow charlatans and petty perverts, to the 12th or 2nd anniversary issue of The Nerve Magazine. I hope the past two years that The Nerve has been cramming itself down your tight throats have been pleasant. Yes, pleasant. Because, though they have been the epitome of a yin-yang rollercoaster of pain and pleasure for myself, we have survived! And survival, of course, is 9/10ths of the goddamn battle in this brutal business. Bruised, battered, and bloody, we once again pull ourselves out of the hangover gutter and give you what is, I‘m sure, our finest moment yet. Over the past year, I’ve had the pleasure of having my ‘reputation’ in this small town threatened by a disgruntled burlesque dancer, witnessing the side window of my car being kicked out by the manager of The Cobalt, launching Nerve TV (the only decent alternative to our nation’s fabulous music station, I’ll have you know), being busted by the Vancouver Police for the spring Sex Issue Party half an hour BEFORE it even started (three cheers for efficiency, ya bastards!), being ripped off by some fetish wear peddlers (come on, it happens to everyone once), almost killing Jello Biafra after picking him up at the airport in my ’85 Chevette, and discovering ways of pulling miracle after BLOODY miracle out of my ass to publish this thing… but, alas, as Brian Salmi once told me over copious amounts of swill at The Cobalt one Wednesday night, “Never ask a man how he makes his money.” What else, oh yeah, we offer our condolences to our friends at The Loop magazine who have called it quits after six years. Or maybe it was longer? I don’t know, but R.I.P. AND, lastly, you are all invited to our anniversary party at the Anza Club, Friday, Nov. 16th with The Real McKenzies, Spitfires and New Town Animals. We love you all… really, now fuck off and let me sleep. Bradley C. Damsgaard Editor Irresponsible Special Thanks! to T.V. Mamma’s, The Old Ripper and Super Stock for playing the Nerve benefit at the Cobalt on Oct. 5th. Here’s what Broken Pencil Magazine thinks of us...

Contributing Writers: Beaver McNeil, Tara MacDonald, Dmidrtui Otis, Rusty Haight, Paul Crowley, Ogla, Dave Crusty, Jenni Nelson, Jason Wertman, Johnny Sizzle, Caroline Manuel, Brian Salmi, Dan Scum, Harold Septic Illustration: Mike O, Ad Sales: Bradley C. Damsgaard Copy Editing: Grace Chin Cover pic: Saturnin Pre-Press, Printing, Binding: Horizon The Nerve is published bi-monthly by The Nerve Magazine Ltd. Circulation: 10 000 in Vancouver, Victoria and via subscriptions. The opinions expressed by the writers and artists do not necessarily reflect those of The Nerve Magazine, its publishers or editors. First publishing rights only are property of the Nerve Magazine. 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. Copyright 2001.

The Nerve Magazine Ltd. Box 88042, China Town PO, Vancouver BC, V6A 4A4 www.thenerveonline.com CONTACT US: (604) 734-1611 (office) (604) 632-9654 (fax) editor@thenerveonline.com publisher@thenerveonline.com advertising@thenerveonline.com

WHOLE LOTTA ZERO At the centre of the universe there is to be found a bright, shining drunk. Cowboy Zero

Uncensored - Viewer Discretion Advised 3

WHY YOU MUST RIDE FOR FREE

here is a spectre haunting the Lower Mainland. It is the spectre of the undead Mad King George. As predicted by sages who were called fools, Puil has pulled his one foot out of the grave and now stalks those of us who have grown to hate him for his arrogance. Fare increases and service cutbacks. Didn’t we just see this horror show last year? Wait. Let us guess what else is coming. Will the Translink Board vote themselves another big fat raise? No. That’s enough. This nightmare has to end. There is only one thing that can slay the undead, money-munching zombies over at Translink: money itself. Stop feeding them money and they will die. If you are a transit user and you are not sick of putting up with this bullshit, you go ahead and keep on paying your tithes to Mad King George and his court. If, however, you are no longer willing to sit back and watch George Puil decimate pubic transit, it’s time to stop paying your fares. The Rhino Party is happy to announce that we are issuing our own transit pass and it is absolutely free. We have been distributing the passes in Terminal City for the past month and we are very happy that The Nerve has agreed to print them as well. Should we find a small bag of money we will print the passes in every publication in the Lower Mainland that is willing to take our money. And we encourage – nay, we challenge – all organizations that are fed up with the tragicomedy that is Translink to print and distribute your own transit passes – hello,

By Brian Godzilla Salmi

Bus Riders’ Union? The idea is simple: George Puil and the rest of the Translink Board have to go. The only people who have the muscle and the interest to march Mad King George and the rest of his cronies up to the guillotine are transit users themselves. If we refuse to pay for their gross mismanagement, they will have to walk the plank (planks, guillotines... whatever – so long as we rid ourselves of the scurvy dogs). Our message to transit users is this: don’t be afraid. Just get on the bus, flash the driver your Rhino Party Transit Pass and take a seat (if you can find one). Should bus drivers choose to side with Translink management by giving you a hard time, or by not accepting the pass, they will be saying that the only thing they really care about is getting a bigger slice of the pie for themselves. The four-month transit strike clearly demonstrated that the Canadian Autoworkers Union (CAW) is completely impotent when it comes to a mano a mano battle to the death with Translink management. A fare strike is, quite simply, the only way we are ever going to get rid of the bumbling bunch of incompetents who have ruined our transit system and treated us like diseased dogs. If Translink were run by an elected Board they would have been recalled long ago. If Translink was a publicly traded corporation, shareholders would have demanded the heads of Board members for gross malfeasance. Only in the strange in-between world that was created for Translink by George Puil could this kind of

Nervous Response Hi, I felt compelled to respond to Ani Kyd’s rant about the demise of MyCityRadio.com. I’m a producer at myCityRadio.com. During our days at 1070 W. Georgia, I produced the Joe Show with Joe Keithley and helped launch Ani and Brian Else’s shows. MyCityRadio.com remains online and webcasts a combination of live and recorded programming Monday to Friday, five hours a day, from a temporary studio. (For example, log on at noon Pacific to see the best of the Joe Show with Joe Keithley). It’s volunteer-run for the moment, but efforts are underway to arrange new financing. Efforts are also underway to legally force Global Tree Technologies to live up to its duty to pay employees every cent they’re owed. I believe it’s reasonable that you edit her contribution before it’s posted to thenerveonline.com to make the above point clear. (And I hope you will also print a retraction in your next paper issue.) To clarify Midibitch’s comments: Elston Johnston is the

insanity continue. But not anymore. Rhinos know the only thing that can slaughter a pack of arrogant, fat-cat mental cases is a band of deranged lunatics with nothing to lose. That is why we have decided it is time to put the Board of Translink out of our collective misery. Off your knees, weary fellow travelers. Transit users of Vancouver unite! Proletarians have nothing to lose but our... our... well, we have nothing to lose, period (that’s kinda what makes us proletarians). The time has come to stand up to the tyranny of the Mad King. We shall overcome, brothers and sisters, and one day soon we will raise our glasses and drink a toast, “The Mad King is dead – may we never suffer another.” What To Do If Your Driver Says No 1) Point out to the driver that the transit system is there, first and foremost, for transit users. Not bus drivers and not George Puil. 2) Inform the driver that our transit system is being systematically and methodically destroyed by TransLink management and that you are a conscientious objector to this destruction. 3) Inform your driver that if the Board of TransLink is not fired they will continue to destroy our transit system and we will all be walking more often than not, including the driver, because his/her job will have become redundant. 4) Point out to your driver that the four-month transit strike proved that the CAW is impotent when it comes to battling TransLink. Make your driver understand that you and other transit users are the only ones capable of dismissing Puil and his cronies, by withholding your fares. 5) Point out to your driver that the majority of people who use transit are too poor to afford the luxury of a car. While unionized transit workers earn a decent living and can afford a car, the majority of transit users work for $8 to $10 per hour, are students, unemployed or retired and on a fixed (meagre) income.

6) You may want to point out that, once upon a time, unions were at least partially concerned with building a better, more just society. 7) Express your regret that a once proud movement has sunk to the point where unionists and their representatives are really only concerned with getting a bigger slice of the pie – that we are all paying for, by the way – for themselves. 8) Express dismay that the driver is siding with George Puil against the little guy/gal. 9) Explain that this is, essentially, a dispute between the shareholders of a company (us) and the irresponsible management (Puil et al.) and that, as such, employees should not interfere. 10) You can also point out that the management of TransLink has lied to us repeatedly about fares and service and that we simply are not going to put up with this bullshit anymore. Make a scene about this and ask the other passengers what they think about the matter. If every driver who dares to refuse a Rhino Pass is subjected to this lecture, they will all get the message very quickly and back off. I will address how to handle Skytrain cops very soon. I am, in fact, planning to launch a frontal assault on Skytrain cops, in order to send a message to Skytrain cops and to TransLink management. They may well throw me in jail but they’ll pay a price for it, I assure you. Ultimately the authorities are powerless to punish transit users for being conscientious objectors if our numbers become legion. If a Skytrain cop tries to give you a ticket and you refuse to accept it, he’ll have to call the cops at some point. The cops are not going to respond to thousands of such calls every day. If they were to do so they would be doing nothing else. The powersthat-be have no power over us if we refuse to recognize their authority. They can not jail a half million people. They can, however, continue to destroy our transit system and treat us like third class citizens... if you let them.

letters, rants, raves, cussin’ correct name of Tom Kennedy’s sidekick. Kennedy is CEO of Global Tree Technologies, while Johnston is a director of GTT. And, to clarify Pat Hardin’s comments: Management did make mistakes – who doesn’t make mistakes when you’re starting something from scratch? – and there was a plan for producing revenue. Pat should instead direct her anger at GTT. The parent company acted in such a manner that it deserves all the disrespect (and more) that it receives in the pages of your current issue. Thank-you, Bob Mackin Jr. Send letters to: Nervous Response Box 88042 Chinatown PO, Vancouver, B.C. or e-mail:nervous@thenerveonline.com Letters may be edited for clarity

How Not To Get Your From The War On Am

he morning it happened, I woke up pissed. My girlfriend Nikki called me from L.A. at 4 A.M. New York time to tell me that a couple of bulldog-faced Nazi skinheads had just harassed her and her friend at a bookstore, calling them “niggers” and “dirty Jews” and saying they would cut off their hands and stuff them down the garbage disposal. Nice stuff – they had swastikas on their fists. I was so tired when I got the call that at first I didn’t really want to believe her, but once I found out she was okay (and that there was no more danger), I assured her in sleepy baby talk that I would beat up those meanie-baddy nasty nazis as soon as I visit…. Yeeees, Jeffrey wiiiiiill.... The next morning, September 11, I trudged towards my morning coffee thinking about Nikki’s story. ‘Hey, don’t we own L.A.?’ I asked myself. ‘How can a couple of full-fledged Nazi skinheads go traipsing around Hollywood, the town that so-called ‘dirty Jews and niggers’ built, spewing racist rhetoric without getting jailed? Where was the Anti-Defamation league? Where was Steven Spielberg, with his millions of dollars and connections? Just how could this happen in this day and age?!’ Even with my head in the clouds, you’d think I’d notice the thick plume of smoke that painted itself across the clear blue sky. You’d think I’d notice a crowd watching a television in the back of a Cadillac Esplanade parked in front of my building, with some guy saying (wrongly, of course) “a plane hit the Empire State Building!” I didn’t notice. Not until I got to Flatbush Avenue where there was a clear view of Lower Manhattan did I notice anything wrong, let alone the massive lit cigarette that was Tower Two of the World Trade Center. “Stupid air traffic controllers,” some crazy guy in a sweat suit said, “they gotta keep their eyes off the stewardesses!” A crowd formed at the corner, watching the movie-like panorama of America’s financial symbol burning to the ground because of some poorly trained pilot. “Jesus! Sweet Jesus!” the crazy guy said again, jumping up and down, hanging onto people’s shoulders. “A plane hit! It hit!” He was way too excited, overacting like he was on drugs or something, and he kept hugging everyone. “It’s the end! The end of the world!” He came right for me but I dodged him and he hugged some pregnant woman next to me. She shrieked bloody murder, but it wasn’t his fault … Tower One of the World Trade Center had just been hit by a second plane, exploding like a fireball into the 95th floor and alerting the world that, far from being simply some pilot’s error, America was at war.… All right, Nerverts & Nervettes, let’s cut the post-apocalyptic neo-paranoia drama-queen crap and get down to soup and nuts. America is at war, it’s been almost two months, and unless you’ve recently snorted white powder from an envelope addressed to Tom Brokaw, you’re probably still alive. Perhaps you’ve even taken advantage of humanity’s genetic predisposition to screw like a bunny rabbit when the apocalypse comes and you have actually gotten yourself laid! Congrats. Now wash up, put on some undies and get ready, ‘cause it’s time to break things down with some basic Q&A:

Question #1 Just what the hell is going on?

Good question – and I’ll give you an historic timeline that dates back several centuries in a moment, but for now you probably know that on September 11, 2001, hijacked planes were flown into two of the World Trade Center towers, the Pentagon, and some Amish field in Pennsylvania, killing thousands of innocent civilians in the worst terrorist attack in American history. Osama bin Laden and his Islamic fundamentalist network the ‘Al Qaeda’ have been named responsible for the attack, and by association, so has Afghanistan’s government, the Taliban, who seem to be harboring bin Laden in a series of (believe it or not) luxurious caves. George W. Bush, who, up until September 11 was a potato latke, declared war on Afghanistan and began bombing the already war-ravaged country, threatening other nations “if you’re not with the U.S., then you’re with the terrorists.” Unfortunately, Bush’s bombing raids seems to have killed everyone but the terrorists, who spent their week leisurely mailing off envelopes filled with the anthrax virus to prominent media personalities and politicians in New York, Florida and Washington, D.C. So far, almost a dozen have been infected with the anthrax virus, two fatally, and bin Laden seems to be the only reasonable culprit… which brings us to our second question:

Question #2 Who the hell is Osama bin Laden?

Basically, Osama bin Laden is a spoiled rich kid from Saudi Arabia who went radical in college to get back at his daddy who gave him a $300 million trust fund but no love. So needy was little Osama that when his hippie professor, Dr. Abdullah

Ass Killed and Actually Benefit merica! Azzum (the historical leader of the group Hamas), encouraged him to join the Islamic resistance against the Soviet occupation in Afghanistan, he willingly did so, leaving behind his hedonistic Saudi lifestyle, but unsurprisingly, not his piles of cash. Lucky for him, too, because when the Soviets pulled out of Afghanistan in 1989 and America lost interest in funding the Islamic resistance, money-bags Osama was there with the fat bankroll. He took over funding and leadership of the resistance, renaming the fighters Al Qaeda (Arabic for ‘the base’) and employing the CIA’s database along with his own connections and a growing cult–like charisma to create a global network of Islamic fundamentalist fighters. The Al Qaeda’s theocidal intent is directed squarely at the infidels of the West, and its stated goal is waging an unconditional war (Islam vs. The West) without drawing any distinctions between civilian and military targets. Now 53 years old, Osama bin Laden lives in caves in the Afghan mountains, and enjoys waging war against Western nations, sponsoring politically- motivated terrorism and playing his acoustic guitar. He is said to have hypnotic eyes, and he has a plan to unite the entire Islamic world in a jihad. If he succeeds in the political sense, then America and its allies are in big trouble, because they will be fighting an army of a billion Muslims that have a pretty good chance of changing the balance of global power.

Question #3 What’s bin Laden’s beef with America anyway?

or Hollywood. Islamic militants have gripes with American media, sure, and Bush’s insistence that “they hate our freedoms” is substantiated by the Taliban’s repression of women and minorities in Afghanistan (women risk decapitation if they have sex before marriage), but it was The Pentagon and the World Trade towers that were attacked, and for good reason: they symbolize America’s guns and money, the abundance of which is seen by America’s enemies as what allows them to be so cocky. Still, these beefs don’t excuse the murder of 5,000 innocent civilians, and as stated before, America isn’t about to change their ways. So screw the terrorists, right? America’s has a country to defend and a lot of guns to do it with – so, like it or not it’s… la guerre!

Question #4 War? Is that such a good idea?

The answer is mostly no, especially when it’s likely to be waged against Afghanistan, instead of the real terrorists. Since day one, U.S. military leaders have been bragging about “bombing Afghanistan back to the Stone Age.” Nice idea, General Bitchslap. Unfortunately, it’s already been done… a bunch of times. One Afghan writer said that if you’re going to compare Osama bin Laden to Hitler and compare the Taliban to the Nazis, then you’ve got to think of the citizens of Afghanistan as the Jews of Germany. After looking through the history of the Afghan people, I can see why that comparison is made. The Afghans are a starved, exhausted, suffering people with no economy and little food. Their average life expectancy is 43 years old, they have 500,000 disabled orphans, four millions refugees, and one of the worst landmine problems in the world. It all started in the 19th Century, when the British and Russian czarists used Afghanistan as a battleground for their imperialist war. It continued during the Cold War, when the Soviets occupied Afghanistan, and then further, when the CIA trained a guerrilla force called The Mujahideen, (a group of united Islamic fighters that included a young Osama bin Laden and most of the future members of Al Qaeda). It escalated when the Mujahideen ousted the occupying Soviets in 1989 and a civil war ensued, leaving just over a million Afghans dead, six million as refugees and a commie-puppet-ruler named Najibullah dangling from a lamp post with his testicles stuck in his mouth. Enter the Taliban, a government that enforces a narrow, fundamentalist interpretation of Shari’a law (Islamic law), including stoning, severing hands for theft, forbidding women from work or going to school, and requiring them to cover

America is the greatest country in the world and the bloodthirsty murderers who did this are just jealous, power hungry, homicidal maniacs who want to ruin democracy for everyone. (This is what you say if you’re in America … or Calgary.) In terms of bin Laden himself, it’s hard to say whether he genuinely shares the very technical list of grievances voiced by many Muslims regarding America’s foreign policy choices. It’s certain that he’s against the U.S. embargo of Iraq. But bin Laden’s main beef seems to be religious in nature – he doesn’t like “infidels,” i.e. anyone who isn’t Muslim. He especially hates the fact that there are infidels living in his homeland of Saudi Arabia, and certainly isn’t thrilled about the infidel Jewish state in the Middle East. But bin Laden’s newfound infamy has given him a chance to align himself to the rest of the Muslim world (i.e. the non-billionaire, un-psycho type), where he can gather sympathy by borrowing from their list of grievances, pointing to America’s history of global bullying and support of horrible regimes and dictators to make himself appear a hero to the cause of global justice. Historically, the anti-U.S. beef goes something like this: America has used ‘anti-Communism,’ ‘anti-terrorism,’ and ‘democracy’ to justify the support of scumbag dictators in Iran, Indonesia, Saudi Arabia, Burma, China, and a whole bunch of Latin American and African countries. They have waged horrifying wars like the one in Vietnam, they have financed covert operations like in Guatemala, and trained torturers and thugs like in Afghanistan where they helped to replace a government that didn’t force women to cover their faces and not work or attend school or vote with one that did. Up until he invaded Kuwait and threatened oil prices, even Saddam Hussein was an American ally, despite the fact that he was gassing Kurds the whole time.). Let’s face it … America has been a real global sleazebag. But it’s more than that – it’s America’s arro- Since day one, U.S. military leaders have gance about that power that pisses so many people off been bragging about “bombing across the board, and makes the threat of an enemy Afghanistan back to the Stone Age.” united against them so very real. Think about us Nice idea, General Bitchslap. Canucks. We wear Canadian flags on our knapsacks when we travel so as not to be mistaken for Americans. Unfortunately, it’s already been done… a We do it because most of the world hates Americans bunch of times. for being cocky, testosterone-driven maniacs, with lots of cash and loud opinions. America is that swaggering drunk that struts into the bar, checks out all the women’s themselves in public from head to toe…no doubt by now you’ve asses and then picks up your girlfriend while you’re in the got a taste of how bad things have been for the Afghan people. bathroom. So, you follow him outside and knock out his two Sure, America is going to war – but against these poor schleps? front teeth. In the case of Sept. 11, the two front teeth are the Already, Afghan lives have been lost in the air strikes – and the 37,000 lunch boxes that US planes have dumped over civilian World Trade Center Twin Towers. So this swaggering drunk (America) has some deci- areas just ain’t gonna cut it as apologies to the bereaved famisions to make: is he going to fix his teeth (the WTC)? Probably. lies. Which brings us to a key point: every time an Afghan Is he going to beef up at the gym so he doesn’t get his ass kicked again (huge military build-up)? More than likely. Is he going to civilian dies from a U.S. bombing raid, another seed of hatred is ask himself, ‘gee maybe I shouldn’t be so cocky in bars any- planted – that’s just common sense. If a moderate Afghan sees more and I won’t get my ass kicked’?? In America’s case, no America as an evil enemy set on destroying them, what’s to stop way – they are far too proud of their way of life, and they love him from moving over to bin Laden’s side? And if one does, what’s to prevent a whole bunch of others from doing the same? America with nothing short of fanaticism. It’s worth noting here that Osama bin Laden did not Anti-American solidarity is exactly what bin Laden wants… a bomb the Statue of Liberty, nor did he aim attacks at Disneyland Muslim world united in hatred against the U.S. and prepared to

wage a jihad. There have already been bloody riots in Pakistan, Indonesia and Israel’s West Bank following the first set of U.S. air strikes. In 1998, because of false information fed to them by bin Laden the Clinton Administration’s Operation Infinite Reach, brought about the destruction of the Al Shifa pharmaceutical plant in Sudan with U.S. missiles. The plant, which supplied 50% of that country’s medicines, was tipped to be a military target. Now, you really think Sudan’s on our side? Uh, no. We have to think about the fact that many of the countries that America has pissed off in the past have serious military capabilities, and if they go on side with Osama, they might use some muscle.

Question #5 What should the U.S. do?

America has to destroy the Taliban, dismantle the Al Qaeda network and apprehend Osama bin Laden. This can be done through military action – but America must exercise restraint. Non-excessive attacks mean not pursuing political movements that are remote to the WTC attack , or exacting revenge on regimes (other than the Taliban) that are hostile to the U.S. It means not using force on the actual enemies unless it’s absolutely necessary, and that includes force against enemy personnel who are wounded and / or subject to capture. It definitely means avoiding as many civilian casualties as possible, and that might mean a ground war — a tactic that will cost more American lives than a straight up air campaign — and maybe that will be more than America’s willing to give up. If America goes too macho-violent in the attempt to fight bin Laden, the flames of Islamic militancy will be fanned and credence will be given to the notion of a holy war. The world will see the ‘asshole-America’ that everyone talks about, and will be reluctant to help such a prick. America needs friends right now more than ever. They need tattle-tales to weed out terrorists cells, they need international banks to block terrorist funding and they need a global coalition for cooperative action to back them up with international policing. America has a lot to prove right now. We really could be facing World War III if America acts like a bully in Afghanistan. Bomb a few more civilian villages and Osama bin Laden will become a hero, America a villain, and the West will have no chance. Fortunately, George W. Bush seems to know this right now. He’s moving cautiously in the right direction, but let’s hope he’s not just feeling things out as he prepares to open a Texas-sized can of ‘Whoop-Ass’ that’ll get us all killed. Speaking of ‘us’…

Question #6 What should we Nerverts and Nervettes do to stay alive?

Lay off the auto-erotic asphyxiation, for starters. Otherwise, be smart: (1) Do make sure the cocaine you’re snorting is actually cocaine.– the stuff that Helen Grubart sniffed at NBC was Anthrax and her chest turned black. (2) Do show support to your local Muslim community. In New York, two “Muslimlooking” Indian men were killed by a bunch of rednecks who swore they saw Osama bin Laden. Lots of other innocent people are getting death threats because they are or look Muslim - and that’s just plain moronic. (3) Don’t say you knew someone who died in the WTC unless you really did. That is star-fucking at its very lowest. You are, however, encouraged to lie about where you were when it happened, (“I was at the homeless shelter feeding starving orphans when I heard the news...”) Hell, our parents all did that with JFK. (3) Do volunteer. I keep trying to tell you this – there’s no better way to learn, feel good about yourself and get laid than by volunteering. It doesn’t matter if you do something war-related or not. Get in the spirit of pitching in, and you’ll find that there are a lot of people who suddenly want to sleep with you. (4) Do get a bit patriotic. Last night I was surfing porn and there was this site that had a big Canadian flag and a link to an article about Canada’s involvement in the war effort. The site banner proclaimed, “Proud to be a Canadian porn site!” Very cool. (5) Do cash in. Some guy in California is raking in the dough with a new t-shirt website called Binladentshirts.com. War is a good time to make cash if you’ve got a good, non-racist idea. (6) Do stay informed. Six hours a day sucking on the glass teat may not actually give you the whole picture. Read some alternative mags, even if you don’t agree with their fascist crap. And listen to The Nerve’s A.D. MADGRAS. That sick fuck knows which way is up…. Finally, party it up. If the end of the world is nigh, it’s time to have as much fun as possible until we croak. You’ll be fighting the terrorists by not letting them terrorize you into stagnation, and who knows, you might even find an alternative to that nasty auto-erotic asphyxiation habit… pic: Heather Watson

The Nerve is Your Bitch What a phat funky shot in the funarchist forearm Nerveland received in the Sept 20th 2001 “Best of Vancouver” issue of The Georgia Straight… but with carefully pruned omissions that made chopped liver of us and the other sponsors involved. “Best of Vancouver” indeed… best fucking bitch is more like it.

heralded by The Nerve with the first appearance of the cartoon of the same name by Mike O, now showing on another part of this page. It was the year when everybody wanted our luscious ripe ya-yas to sell their own Civic Fun Redevelopment projects, but nobody wanted to look us in the eye and say howdy. What a sandpapery gang-bang it was. And now we get one more vote for Maytag Of The Year (we’d be doing an awful lot of laundry if we were a prison bitch) from the anonymous (but sassy) editorbot at the Straight. Alternative media in this town needs a steady diet of fun, and they lust after it like vampires at the blood bank where all the cool kids donate. The good people of Nerveland just give and give and give till it hurts and we get all dizzy, and what do we get for our pains and troubles and deeply held funarchist principles? Best Big Fat Nothing by the Best Rip-Off Artists in Vancouver. What gives the cocksmokers at our fellow media outlets carte blanche to parlay our success into their street cred? Sure there’s a fucking war on, but that doesn’t mean no one will step up if they’re chal-

“Best place to embrace your inner pervert: Fox Cinema (2321 Main Street 604-874-3116) ” winks the anonymous sassy scribe, who gushes forth about how the eww icky sticky image of porn has “recently … been attracting a more discerning brand of adult-movie connoisseur.” And here let me just pause and say how thrilled I am that The Georgia Straight thinks enough of its audience that it will use top quality journalistic talent to cover porn–related events, using a vocabulary that bespeaks sophistication and a keen critical eye. Use of the word “recently” in a finely honed bonsai of a paragraph is a perfect example of what a liberal arts degree can do, and we should all be lucky enough to have such a precise command of the language. Semper fi, O fellow university alumni, but let us brace for the liver chopping that is to come. The insider whispers conspiratorially: “those who turned up for the first installment of Return to Porno Chic earlier this summer came for more than just come shots.” As many of you are aware, this is known as the Field of Dreams school of porn…if you turn up, it will be arranged and sponsored with kegs of delicious beer from Storm Brewing and sexy door prizes from stores like Burcu’s Angels. People have told The Nerve they dream about that, and we are excited that people are so darn excited about excitement. Lack of fun is bad for the brain… that’s why people hallucinate that they can see the ghosts of dead baseball players in corn fields or that lenged to another one, even if it is only a diss war. The Kevin Costner can perform complicated tasks like act local press seems hell-bent on piggybacking on the his way out of a wet paper bag. Visions like those are accomplishments of our illustrious leader and his merely symptoms of a disease. The Nerve feels your superlative fun creation skills (and beautifully formed, pain… and your swollen glands. Sometimes you just all-natural ya-yas). Don’t get me wrong… it’s not like need to get your rocks off. July’s Return to Porno anybody here wants the key to the city (unless it Chic was hotly attended, as our sassy Straight-er opens up the spooky catacombs under the West notes, by some “200 scenesters,” the most scenic of all End, in which case – fork it over). But I think I being, of course, the event’s chief organizer… impre- speak for all of us at The Nerve magazine when sario and man-about-town, Captain to my Tennille, I close with the following chorus to a song by The Nerve’s own grande fromage, Señor Bradley C. our favourite outlaw country rebel superstar, Damsgaard. “The most recent Return to Porno Chic the beloved David Allan Coe: took place on September 15,” the article continues (cleverly, the author reintroduces the word “recent” – you thought no writer would dare, but you were mistaken and sorely outclassed). Sass Jordan reassures us I will hang around as long as you will let me, that we’ll “have plenty of opportunity to get [our] And I never minded standing in the rain. ya-yas out in the coming months.” You don't have to call me darlin,' darlin… As I sit here, exfoliating and moisturizing You never even called me by my name. my ya-yas, I think about the coming wintry months. I think about how hard Brad works on this ya-ya filled magazine, keeping not just it afloat, but full to dripping civixen@thenerveonline.com with all the right mouthwatering juices. I reflect upon pic: Ian Tong the past year in which the era of No Fun City was

T HE S ADD LESO R ES HANG ‘ EM U P

fter over half a decade of being a staple in the Vancouver cow punk scene and one of the best sources of two fisted, from the hip rock ‘n’ roll this city has to offer, the Saddlesores have called it quits. I caught up with the Pinto and Jason at the Silvertone Tavern to find out just what the hell was going down. Rumors were circling about two fragment bands, Crystal Pistol and Speed to Kill, but no one really knew for sure…. So here’s the goods, straight from the horses mouth, so to speak. A.D. MADGRAS: When we set up this interview, it was under different circumstances. Things have changed in what, the past week or so? Maybe you can explain what’s going on. Pinto: The last 10 days? (Turns to Jason) When did we decide? Jason: That it was going to be our last show? Since we were in Nelson. Pinto: When was that? Jason: A couple weeks ago, man. Pinto: Ok, so why don’t you go ahead and tell him what happened. A.D.: What happened? What’s the official story? You know, for the record. Jason: Personally, I felt that the band had kind of plateaued. Maybe not artistically, but in the media’s eye, I was getting really frustrated that we weren’t making any progress. If we’re not going to be making leaps and bounds of progress, then I wanted to have personal artistic satisfaction. I wasn’t getting enough of that with the Saddlesores. Not that I wasn’t getting, any, but I just wanted to try a new avenue of rock ‘n’ roll, without the whole cowboy side to it. Which is a little truer to the way I’m feeling now. And contrary to some people’s beliefs, I did not steal anybody out of the band. A.D.: Pinto? Pinto: I felt that we were at the top of our game and everything was as awesome as it could possibly be, but like Jason said, we weren’t really getting anywhere with the media; we weren’t getting anywhere with anybody, really. No label interest. No nothing. The tours were getting tougher, things were getting more expensive, and basically, Jason told me what he just told you, that he wasn’t’ getting as much personal satisfaction out of it as he hoped to be getting and the cow punk thing isn’t working out. It seems to be something that people just won’t warm up to or understand or whatever. In a sense, I think it is the industry and the people in the business who never got it. But we never, ever

Within six months we should have our shit together. A.D.: Jason, you’ve also got something else going on after the Saddlesores. Jason: Over the past two years or so, I’ve been slowly building up a small studio in my house, to do demos and stuff… writing a lot. Which has put me in a good position to work with other musicians. Because I can just give them a tape to get the ball rolling. Wes, the bass player of the Saddlesores, had quit the band, actually, before I had said I wanted to leave. Once he heard my demos, he said lost a crowd. We’ve played to all didn’t get it. And to a straight up he wanted to play with me in Speed types of crowds, punk crowds, rock rock and roll band, like even the to Kill. Right now we’re making our crowds…. Spitfires and Flash Bastard – they way through about 30 songs. We’re A.D.: Every show I’ve been to, I’ve are bands we get along with, but … going to take the best ten to 15 witnessed great crowd response and because we’ve got the cowboy thing songs, rehearse them through all of it was always a packed crowd. Why going on, we don’t fit in with them November, December… record do you think the media didn’t pick up either. But, musically, it’s not too far maybe an EP in early January and, on it? Why wasn’t there a bigger off. If anything, we’re just a little come February, I’ll have the website buzz around what you were doing? more original. That rockabilly thing up and running. The image of the Wrong band, wrong time or what? just stuck to us, we always got band is going to be a little more Pinto: I don’t think we ever fit into grouped in with the rockabilly refreshing as well. Instead of the any of the trends. The music scene scene… we’re just too heavy for leather and studs, I want to look like has gone through a number of trends that. That’s how we felt. But you a bunch of ex-Gucci runway models. in the past six years and we’ve never can’t change people’s perceptions Slick looking. Kind of like the new fit into any of it. We wanted to do without changing the name, or Duran Duran for 2002. things our way. And people got it changing how we play. It got to the A.D.: How would you describe the and that was cool, style of music? but nobody in the That rockabilly thing just stuck to us... we’re Jason: I like business took it just too heavy for that. But you can’t change the way Cheap seriously at all. Trick kind of That may have people’s perceptions... it got to the point where melded pop been our fault, I was just tired of defending that. music and hard because when the rock and roll band first started together, yet made it easy to digest. out, it wasn’t as focused as it is right point where I was just tired of They had awesome songs and enernow, or, in the past year, anyway. defending that. gy, but there were still forces and And we were called a shtick band A.D.: This isn’t necessarily – the pop hooks that were there. The and as soon as you are called a shtick demise of the Saddlesores, that is – a arrangements were there, that could band, people don’t take you serious- bad thing. You both are starting new be played on radio: 70’s Bowie, like ly anymore. bands. I’ll start with you, Pinto. the Berlin Iggy Pop stuff, The Idiot, A.D.: A while ago, you (Jason) told Pinto: We’re called Crystal Pistol. meets Queen’s of the Stone Age. me that you detested being billed as It’s me, Mick from the band Taste, A.D.: I’d like to ask you about your a rockabilly band. Why is that? and the Cartels… all three of them. thoughts on Vancouver’s live music Jason: If you listen to rockabilly Some of the stuff that was written for scene, right now and what’s happenmusic and our music, I don’t think Saddlesores will be used, some of ing with the clubs. there is any correlation between the the stuff that the Cartels did will be Pinto: To me, I don’t get to go out two. Our bass lines are different, our used. There’s a lot of collaboration much with the new baby, but it attack on the songs is different. between me and Mick. The closest seems that the only place I want to We’ve had rockabilly inflections in a thing I can compare it to is maybe go to is The Cobalt. It seems to be few of our songs, but for the most something like G ‘n’ R, you know, where rock and roll lives. People part, it’s just rock and roll. The rock- with rock vocals, but with major come out and they just want to have abilly purists don’t accept us, which progressions and the country and a good time. But at the same time, we found out when we toured down blues influences still behind it… it’s kind of a sad thing because that to southern California, like Anaheim, with a bit of a glam aspect to it. seems to be the only place left in where there is a big rockabilly scene. A.D.: When can we expect to see town where you see something like We’d play for rockabilly fans and you guys playing a gig in our fair that. You used to be able to go to they’d look at us like we were some city? four or five different spots. Now gaylord mutha muthas. They just Pinto: (Laughs) I don’t know. there’s only The Cobalt left. Unless

Saddlesores

pic: Tawnya Crowshoe

you are a big act from out of town, people just don’t really go out to the shows. Jason: I think things have fallen into a bad state. And maybe I’m wrong, but I think we’re going to see a resurgence of rock and roll. The real rock and roll comeback. Seeing a band like The Strokes come in and sell out the Commodore and have a real buzz when they are so low-fi… so ground level rock and roll. Just watching Much Music the other night, I noticed three or four back to back rock songs. And you just haven’t seen that in a long time. I just thing that there is going to be a backlash against all this dumbified hiphop and Nickleback-type bands. There is a thirst for that. You can see it in the kids around town. So, what’s going to happen is that places like the Starfish are going to close and then someone’s going to get the bright idea and say, “Hey, I’m going to open up a club an make a killing with all these bands.” I’ve got some older friends who say that in the 70’s the same thing happened in Vancouver, where canned music and disco, turntables… that’s what everyone went out to see… and all the live clubs died out. Then, in the mid-80’s, it came back so strong. And, really, it had a good run and it wasn’t until the mid-90’s that it really started to die. But it will come back. It might get a little worse, but it will get better in the end. A.D.: Let’s just hope that it isn’t one of those things that has to hit rock bottom before people realize that they’ve lost all their clubs… because it can take a long time to start them again. Alright, let’s have your fondest Saddlesores memory or favourite tour story. Pinto: Shit, that’s a tough one… there’s so many. Ok, one of my favourite moments was when we were in Orange County and some guy showed up at the show and he was heckling us. Then Jason started mouthing him off. And after the show, he said, “Hey, I like you cats. Come back to my place.” We went back to his place and he happened to be the coke dealer in the area. So he gave us a lot of cocaine and we did it all. Then some more. And then some more again. So we leave and we’re completely high on coke and we’re driving along and then Jason looks over at me and all he says is… “Hospital.” A.D. MADGRAS

TEENAGE RAMPAGE Crossword Puzzle Solve this shit and win a CD!!! Across

1. Legendary Canadian Maiden tribute band from Jersey _________ Clown. 6. Legendary Canadian Maiden tribute band from Jersey Power ______. 11. Scent 12. A verb and a stinging insect(homophones) 13. Fear 14. Genetic duplicate 15. 3 17.

18. Hot air animal 22. Bashful 23. Pie___mode 24. Sunday night sex show’s Johannson and Legendary Vancouver metal couple gal 26. Haves and have______ 28. Bars in 17 across 31. Decrees 33. Babe in Ulysses whose song cannot be resisted 35. Half pipe 37. Ritual_________habitual 38. At 40. Uglier of the Gallagher bros (good luck!) 42. Opp of mult 43. Resembling a penis 45. Genetic Blue print 46. Dames who are all show and no go

47. Owners of a Lonely Heart

Down

1. Crib 2. Legendary Canadian hockey player Bobby_____ 3. “__________is me!” 4. Hotmail or yahoo service 5. Short wave and transistor 6. Legendary Canadian TV network 7. The the (Fr) 8. Woodwind section 9. Olde tyme waitress 10. Demanding 16. Promissory notes 18. Musical group 19. _______Vera 20. After late 21. Jersey’s b-ball team 25. Right_____Fred 27. Legendary Canadian indy band from Alberta (happy retirement boys!) 29. “A nightmare on Elm Street” villain 30. Of a cat 32. Cheshire cat feature 34. Chevy and Scotia 36. Couple 38. Suitable 39. Word before Pogues or Smalls 41. Hammer and Face 44. Boozers club By Dan Scum The answer will be printed in the next issue of the Nerve (January-February 2002)

PRIZE: First person to send in the completed puzzle wins a Gift Certificate good for one CD at:

TEENAGE RAMPAGE Records: Vancouver: 19 E. Broadway 604-675-9227 Kamloops: 350b Seymour St. 250-828-0800 Send completed puzzle to The Nerve Mag: 88042 Chinatown PO, Vancouver, B.C. V6A 4A4 c/o crossword

Wax On, Grasshopper

an interview with Mixmaster Mike Leather Twatson scratches the surface of one of hip-hop’s most influential turntable artists. The fourth Beastie Boy, the Serial Wax Killer… whatever you call him, he’s the shit. Say a nasty, Nervert hello to Mixmaster Mike. Leather Twatson = LT Mixmaster Mike = MMM LT: I guess I should ask you to define turntablism… MMM: Turntable music is an art composed through nothing but vinyl records and re-manipulating sounds that have been played already and making it our own way of making sounds. Turning nothing into really something … [taking] little bits and pieces of parts of music and constructing it with scratch percussion and stuff. LT: You started out playing house parties? MMM: Yeah, house parties and garage parties. LT: When do you think it was recognized as more than just fucking around and scratching records? Was there a turning point, do you think? MMM: The turning point was probably I guess when we [nemesis-turned-partner Q-Bert, and Apollo, founding members of the Invisibl Skratch Piklz, the first scratch-based group] won the [’92’94 DMC turntable] world titles in London and New York, and then me hooking up with the Beastie Boys [MMM joined them on 1998’s Hello Nasty]. LT: The further you get from the ‘epicenters’ of hip-hop, the harder it seems to be to win street cred. Were there advantages to coming from outside the hip-hop “beltway” [MMM is from the San Francisco suburb of Daly City]? MMM: I think that we were doing something new for a long time, but people were open to it … there were

very few people that were doing what we were doing with the turntables, and that’s how we started it… that’s how we developed it into its own kind of art … it was new, we developed it, and now, the turntable is outselling the electric guitar [laughs]. When I first started, I knew I’d developed my own style, since ‘86/’87 [at the age of 15, MMM pioneered the “crab scratch” technique, which uses all 5 fingers extended across the fader], and then battling and winning titles… I guess that’s when the confidence level kind of boosted, because becoming world champion of this whole art…it kind of shows a lot. You’re just with full confidence of anything you create after that … you know something’s going to happen out of it. LT: Your parents must have done the “get a real job” thing that happens to all musicians… MMM: Of course! LT: Was it even harder for you to shuck that? MMM: I was in my own world, so I just blocked it out. [Scratching] was probably the only thing that made me happy during that time of my life, and so it kind of took me away from everything…kind of like I ran away with the turntables. LT: Kind of like the circus… your bio made it sound like quite the fuckin’ high wire act. MMM: It was a hard, long road but it’s finally paying off now. LT: I see more minority turntablists than I did a few years ago [MMM and the other members of the ISP are Filipino]. Do you think Asians, women and other DJs from ‘non-traditional’ DJ backgrounds are starting to get more respect from labels or is it still kind of an uphill battle? MMM: You know, it is an uphill battle, because me, I’ve kind of transformed myself from a DJ to more of a scratch

composer/producer … if you just want to become a DJ, it’s going to be even more hard to get that recognition, as opposed to me – I make my own music and my own beats – if you can do that, the more power you have, because you’re able to not only play other people’s records, but play your actual records that you made. It’s definitely a plus to become a producer. LT: What’s the scoop on the artist-run labels flaming out? [The Beastie Boys’ recently folded label] Grand Royal and Lars Ulrich from Metallica…do you think this discourages smaller independent artists from starting their would be straight up. own labels? LT: Well, it’s karma. MMM: No, not at all…I mean, it’s like MMM: Yeah, it’s karma… that’s what taking your own ball and running with it is. it your own way. Just putting it out LT: You’ve been here before? yourself and not relying on major labels. MMM: Yes, I love Vancouver. To have to deal with all that … paper- Vancouver rocks. work … you know what I mean? I LT: Are we considered part of the West won’t say any record companies, but coast ‘scene’… or are we just Canada? there’s record companies out there that MMM: Of course! To me it’s West see you as just a fresh piece of meat, and coast. milk you as much as they can, and I LT: Out of some 500 upcoming North guess that’s why there’s independent American tours, hip-hop artists and record labels like Grand Royal and Lars otherwise, Vancouver is a scheduled putting out his own shit…you know, stop for only 20 percent of them. When cause they feel, I guess, it’s safer. you’re drawing up a tour schedule, do They’re in more control of their whole you pay attention to how many tours go dynasty. somewhere? LT: Swollen Members [who have also MMM: No, not at all. As long as I can recently collaborated with MMM] have gone straight to the clubs in Europe and ...there’s a Coco Brothers have started distributing through DJs in London. Do [formerly known as Smif n’ you think that sort of back Wessin] 12-inch that I door shit is the way to stick it to The Man? picked up and he refers to MMM: You know, I think himself “blowing shit up so. It’s all about finding the distributor. I think that’s the like Bin Laden”.... key, and I won’t say that the easiest thing to do is run your own label, because it comes with a bring the heads in the venue and we can lot of stuff [as opposed to] becoming an all have a good time, that’s all that matartist…it’s like two different worlds, so ters to me. I’ll go anywhere, as long as it’s pretty tricky to try to hold down both they’re willing to see me. forts … being an artist and running your LT: One of the things I love about hipown label. I give respect to cats that do hop is how un-PC it is. Do you think that, like Sean Puffy Combs, he started MCs are going to use Bin Laden and the from nothing and now he’s got a whole WTC in their lyrics eventually? empire … he did it pretty much by MMM: [laughs] Well, there’s MCs that himself, and Russell Simins… he’s not I know that are using them ... the most generous guy in the world, but LT: Already? [This interview took they’ve [both] done it from nothing, and place 2 weeks after the terrorist attacks] now, they … MMM: Yeah, there’s a Coco Brothers LT: They make their own rules. [formerly known as Smif n’ Wessin] MMM: [laughs] And it’s hard work. 12-inch that I picked up and he refers to You have to have a good mouthpiece himself “blowing shit up like Bin [laughs]. Laden”…[laughs] LT: Yeah, and you have to love the LT: [laughs] That answers my question. Accounts Receivable and all that kind MMM: It’s not surprising to me, of crap just as much as you love being ‘cause I find a lot of MCs are running on stage. out of things to talk about. [laughs] I MMM: I think as long as you don’t remember when Public Enemy was out, fuck people and you treat people with and they were like a political revolution. respect and kindness and show love and I guess it never got any harder than give people what they’re worth … it’s Public Enemy for me. And as far as the going to fall in place, if you treat people groups on my CD [Spin Psycle – with the right respect and not try to rip Moonshine Music - www.moonshine. people off. If I had a record label, I

com], they definitely have their own opinions about what life is leading to, and I’m just glad to have them cats on my CD, able to express themselves, because there’s not enough people out there that know who Binary Star is, or JVC Force. That’s why I want to have them on my record — so they can get that exposure and that voice out. LT: And whatever it is that they’re saying, at least they’re saying something. MMM: Yeah. LT: I love your new CD. I reviewed it in our last issue [archived at www.thenerveonline.com ] and I said I thought it was awesome background music for humping … why haven’t hip-hop artists been soundtracking porno movies?! It seems like a natural fit to have some nice scratching going on during the money shot. MMM: Oh yeah. Definitely. LT: Consider it! [laughs] You’re doing some stuff with EA [Electronic Arts] … do you play video games? MMM: Oh, of course, a lot. A lot of sports games. I did the soundtrack for the new SSX video game [ www.ssx. ea.com/mixmike.html ] … there’s a basketball game called NBA Street, which is sick…real sick. LT: What’s going on with Full Court Radio [a radio show co-hosted by MMM and the Beastie Boys’ Mike D. – info at http://www.medialane-international. com/fullcourt.htm]… is it happenin’? MMM: Right now we’re waiting for somebody to pick it up and syndicate it. We’ve got 3 volumes of it. It’s 30 minutes of me and Mike D. goofing off… playing beats, underground hip-hop, old rock pieces. LT: Well, don’t ignore Canada when it comes to distributing that shit, cause, man, people will eat it up. MMM: Canada’s in mind. LT: The last time the Beastie Boys played here with A Tribe Called Quest and Money Mark, it was the greatest show … are you touring again in 2002? MMM: We’re getting things ready right now…we’re getting our thoughts together. It’s all in our heads right now. But it’s going to be crazy when we go on the road. pics: courtesy of Moonshine Music

Paul: You are right. A.D.: Ok, so he’s absent. Kurt: No, no, he’s not absent minded, he’s just absent. Anyway’s, we have Brad “The Machine” Lambert, we have Matthew McNasty on the pipes, and we have The Bone, and Paul McKenzie here.

pic: courtesy of The Real McKenzies

A.D.: Ok, you have recently released a new record and are about to go on tour to support that record. Let’s talk about the tour first. Where are you going? Kurt: Ok, we’re going across Canada, all the way to Halifax, and then we…. Paul: St. John, New Brunswick! Kurt: Oh, are we doing that too? Excellent. Bone: On Halloween! Kurt: And man, can those East coasters drink! We’re going to have a great, great time. Then we hop over and do a bit of Germany.

f The Real McKenzies aren’t the finest example of Canadian roots punk, no one is. They’ve taken their brand of bare-

balled, kilt-flippin’, haggis-fueled and Scotch whiskey soaked punk rock across our Great White North (and the globe, for that matter) numerous times, survived (barely), and are currently celebrating the release of their third record, Loch’d and Loaded. By the time this is printed, they

will have just completed another cross-Canada tour, and then it’s off to Europe once again for the lads. Like many a hurtin’ soul, I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying a dram or two of Scotch with the McKenzies… the last time, things ended up in a chair-throwing contest at The Cobalt. I don’t remember who won, but it sure as hell wasn’t me.

Paul [in a genuine Scots burr]: Alright! ’ere we are, we’re at The Cobalt, it’s Saturday night, an’ The Real McKenzies are ‘ere, an’ there’s a good lookin’ guy in a cowboy hat and he wants to ask us some fockin’ questions! A.D. MADGRAS: Let’s start off with some introductions.

Kurt: Ok, Jamie isn’t here right now… he’s the only missing McKenzie at this moment, I believe….

Mark “the Bone” Boland

A.D.: So you’re doing Europe on this tour again? Kurt: Well, we come home for a little a break … they always tie in to each other. And then we’re off to Europe again to do a lot of towns in Germany, which is strange because we just did Germany twice in six months… we thought we did every town in Germany, but there’s more! It never ends, they have more and more… so, more towns in Germany that we’ve never heard of … then down to France and Spain … Bone: Portugal. Kurt: Portugal. Bone: Holland, Paris, Belgium. Kurt: Well, but the new territory is France and Spain. We’ve never been there before. Paul: An’ we’re going back ta Amsterdam. Kurt: Which we liked very much. Bone: But wait, we’re going to Portugal... where things are legal, not tolerated. Kurt, Paul: Yeah! (laugh)

because they know no one will buy their records. But they’re a great fucking band. A.D.: You guys are doing the Canadian stretch of this tour with The Darkest of the Hillside Thickets…. Bone: We’re doing this entire tour with a band called Fabulous Disaster. They’re an all-female band from L.A., or San Francisco or somewhere… A.D.: But aren’t the Thickets doing it with you as well? Bone: I don’t know… um, I think they’re doing part — a few shows…. Paul: The Darkest of the Hillside Thickets are a fockin’ excellent band. Fockin’ H.P. Lovecraft. Bone: I’m gonna steal their patch cords! A.D.: I want to talk about the new record. Your first record, Clash of the Tartans.… Kurt: Yeah… No! That was the second one. Our first record was, uh, self-titled, I guess, and we did it to document The Real McKenzies. We were going to quit. We just did it. Somebody offered to do it in Seattle. And then they sent it to the college radio stations… next thing you know, we’re sent to Texas, where it went to number one. We thought we could quit, but no, we weren’t allowed to. A.D.: So then Sudden Death picked you up, and you recorded Clash of the Tartans. Now you are on Honest Don’s. The new record is called Loch’d and Loaded. How was it different recording this record?

We’ve been watching this big wave of the whole big boy band thing on Much Music and we’re trying to cash in on that wave. Only, instead of trying to sport cleanly-shaven faces, we’re sporting furry bums. So it’s kinda the same, but different. Dirty Kurt

A.D.: So, what’s the main difference, for the McKenzies, in touring Europe as opposed to North America? Kurt: They feed us really well, they have really cold houses, and their washing machines do a spin thing and they don’t have dryers. So your kilt is wet for however long … Bone: And they have shit decks on their toilets. So you revel in the mess you made. Kurt: Oh, yeah, yeah, when you take a poo it sits on a shelf. Bone: You know the best thing about Europe? They actually go to shows. Kurt: Oh! And they love punk rock... they love old style punk rock. A.D.: Who are your tour partners in Europe? Bone: Terror Group, a band out of Berlin. They’re a really big band in Europe, but they sing in German, so … they’re not well known. They’re on Epitaph in Europe, but they won’t release them here

Brad Lambert

Jamie Fawkes

Kurt: Honest Don’s has McKenzies records on every shelf. The McKenzies have never had a record you could actually buy anywhere. And even when we came to your town, nobody knew we were coming. A.D.: Why was that, exactly? Paul: Uh, it was logistics, man, logistics. Bone: It an unfortunate deal that just ended up that way. Paul: We had no idea we were goin’ ta attack the world wi’ such vigor…. Kurt: Actually, what happened there was Joe [Keithley] had no idea how popular we were getting, and he couldn’t come up with the amount of albums. A.D.: He couldn’t print as many as was needed…. Kurt: No. And that’s what happened with our first label. I’d like to add that there have been about 20 men from Vancouver who have worked for many years in this band who have helped us get where we are. A.D.: Where did you record this new album? Kurt: In Seattle. With our original producer from the first album [Jon Dunleavy]. A.D.: Was that your choice? You wanted him on this record? Kurt: Well, actually, when we made plans to do the record, we didn’t think we had a record company, so we were like, well, Jonny’s our friend and he’ll front us the time and he will make this happen. So we phoned [him] up and... Paul: [yells] JONNY! Kurt: He agreed to do it. And then we got the record deal and everything was great. Paul: And we were saying on the telephone, “OI! HEY JONNY!” Kurt: “Help us out! We got no money and we need to make a record! “ Paul: “Is somethin’ wrong wi’ the connection? Hello? Come in! Hello?” Kurt: Jonny did the Supersuckers’ country record and he’s doing live sound for Smash Mouth. I think he wanted… because the first record was done on such a small budget, he wanted to have a second

A.D. MADGRAS has a wee chat wi’ shot at it. And we rose to the occasion. A.D.: What kind of deal do you have with your new label? Is it record-by-record, or what? Bone: That’s a good question. Umm … [ general confusion and shouting] we don’t really know. A.D.: How have the reviews been for the new record? Kurt: Absolutely fantastic! Bone: Except for the people who think we’re ripping off The Dropkick Murphys. A.D.: I imagine you’ll get more of those comparisons …. Kurt: Well, it gets tiresome that people bring it up. Paul: Constantly. I mean, we like ta sKurt the issue. I’m not talkin’ ’bout the kilts, ya know. A.D.: Do you guys know The Dropkick Murphys? Kurt: Yeah, they’re friends of ours. Paul: We’re their biggest fans and they’re ours. A.D.: Mutual appreciation between you? Bone: There is now that all the bullshit’s been sorted out. Paul: But we’ve got a better lookin’ piper. Kurt: Yeah, we’ve got that on ‘em. Bone: Not that he gets laid more. He’s married! Kurt: We’ve been watching this big wave of the whole big boy band thing on Much Music and we’re trying to cash in on that wave. Only, instead of trying to sport cleanly-shaven faces, we’re sporting furry bums. So it’s kinda the same, but different. Paul: Are ya tryin’ to tell me ta make a good impression wi’the McKenzies, ya ’ave ta shave yer ass? Izzat wha’ yer fockin’ sayin’? Kurt: No, no, we’re the furry bum boy group.

THE REAL McKENZIES

rips the door off. And, apparently there’s a five hundred deductible on a limo door. So, we are looking for donations and we have a fund, McKenzies fund, on our website www.realmckenzies.com to help Bone with the payment. Bone: Or you can just send a cheque directly to me. Paul: Personally, I don’ give a fock about the money and I don’ give a fock about the fockin’ car. I was dreadfully concerned about the wellbein’ of the individuals. Tha’ was ma main concern. A.D.: Are they after you for the money? Paul: [yells] BONE! If you ever act so irresponsibly again I’m gonna spank you! Hold it! Bone is getting a spanking! [slaps his hands together] Not thinking about safety first! BASTARD! Kurt: We destroy so many vehicles and guitars… people are what you have to be concerned about. You know? We’re constantly injuring ourselves and taking trips to the hospital, and all that, you know, but that’s what you’ve got to worry about. You can buy another guitar — you can buy another vehicle.

Bone: HEY! I got a story that contradicts everything you [points to Kurt] just said. We were in San José…. Kurt: Hey, you’ve never broken a limb… you’ve never broken a limb or a leg on tour!

Bone: Hold on, let me fuckin’ talk! Kurt: We’re gonna sort you out this tour! I’ll tell you! Bone: This prick starts a fist fight with me on stage in San José. I’m trying to protect my guitar, and this guy’s throwin me fuckin’ [shots] from behind, the whole time, I’m trying to protect my guitar and I didn’t even realize it till the next day… I’ve got a broken thumb! And it’s still broken. Yeah, he cares so much about the well being of the people in this band that he would break one of their thumbs only

Matthew Hawley

Kurt: I don’t remember. Basically, we only get blackout drunk once a week on tour. We drink a lot every day, but we have a job to do. Paul: You’ve got ta understand, when you’re given a wonderful fockin’ single malt, it’s not up ta you how or when y’open yerself up ta the fockin’ good Scotch gods. Sometimes ya drink several bottles a night — sometimes ya don’ even have a sip. It’s not up ta us. [At this point in the interview, the opening band starts up] Bone: Hey, [turns to me] you wanna finish this outside or something? A.D.: I think it’s alright.… Kurt: I kinda like him, I don’t feel like fightin’ him. [laughs] Bone: I do…. A.D.: I’d like to ask you one more question…. Paul: Ask two! A.D.: If you had to sum up the McKenzie experience — what you write your songs about — Kurt: [ignoring the question] Fuck, you guys are so lucky I’m alive tonight, man. I’m so sick, I thought I was going to die. I’m probably going to be twice as sick tomorrow. I’ve had several drinks now…. Bone: I think I just had an auditory hallucination…. Paul: Wha’ it comes down to is Scottish history. Scottish history in relation to Canadian history in terms of comin’ over here... how deep tha’ cultural Scottish well is. I think The McKenzies have only had two or three thimbles of wha’ is potentially available ta us.

Paul McKenzie

Dirty Kurt Robertson

A.D.: Is there any ass shavin’ going on here or are you all au naturel? You let the plumage hang out? Bone: That’s a little personal, isn’t it? (laughs) A.D.: Hey, we call it The Nerve magazine for a reason, my friend. Kurt: You know, I never shave my butt! I’m proud of my ass hair! I’m losing the hair on my head and it’s going to my ass but at least I fuckin’ still got it! Bone: We don’t wear underwear under the kilt, so the guy that might consider himself dapper… he might want to… you know… you don’t want people to be looking at ‘The Wolf’. A.D.: Has that ever caused any indecent exposure charges? Kurt: At Bumbershoot one year, Paul was chased around by the Keystone Cops. They arrested one of our other members, and then they realized they had the wrong man. Paul: I deeked ’im out, naturally. Bone: I got us banned from Nanaimo. A.D.: Paul, you were involved in an accident where part of your face was damaged, and apparently you guys had to cancel your Naughty Camp 2001 appearance because of problems with your health. What happened? Paul: I ‘ad ta go under the knife. It wasn’t actually ma health, it was jus’ the shape of ma head. A.D.: So it was the plate in your head? Kurt: That was my fault. I put you in a headlock, Paul… and we haven’t talked about that since. Please forgive me, I’m so sorry. We had a couple of drinks one night…. Paul: There’s nothin’ ta fergive. Bone: Let that be a lesson to ya! Kurt: Naw, Paul, I felt really bad about that, I didn’t mean to hurt your face. Paul: Well, so am I, but I fergive ya. Anyway, rock ‘n’ roll goes on. Kurt: Yeah! And look how young he looks on this side! Bone: Yeah, it ironed out the wrinkles! Paul: It’s a beau’iful punk rock story. A.D.: Speaking of stories, you guys have done some extensive touring. Let’s go around the table and hear a few of ‘em. Bone: What? You think you can ask that question without somebody buttin’ in? Kurt: Alright, I’ll start with when we were starting off our second European tour, Bone… we get a limo because, well, you might think that sounds very decadent, but were actually very thrifty because it was cheaper to get all of us in one limo than it was to get two cabs. So Bone runs out and into traffic, opens the door and leans it against a semi while he’s trying to stuff his guitar in. The semi takes off and

because they mocked him on stage. Kurt: No! Hey! I’d just got my guitar back! You’d fuckin’ removed my fuckin’ fret — the only fret we use, the B-flat! Bone: One string, one note. Kurt: That’s the only one I need! You fuckin’ ruined my B- flat! We only play in one key and that’s B-flat! Paul: You guys got any dirty laundry ya wanna wash? Kurt: [ignoring Paul] And you fucked up my guitar! I got it fixed, and by the way, you owe me sixty bucks! Matt: Try being in the van. [laughter] Bone: So, a couple of guys from Smash Mouth decide to come out to that show in San José, and they left going, “what the fuck was that?” A.D.: You guys go through the pipers. What is it about having a piper in a band? Bone: Like I said before, “he can wag the bag without any hag.” Matt: I’m never room-mating with you again. Paul: I was in Europe an’ I lifted up ma kilt in the men’s water closet and this guy looks over an’ says, “European?” “Yeah, I’m a peein’! Wha’ the fock’s it ta you, ya fockin’ bastard? [laughter] Quit lookin’ at ma dick!” Bone: Then he was in Saskatchewan in a toilet truck stop where a guy took a nasty poop and Paul, as he stuck his head out of the stall, Paul’s question to him was, “corn fed?” [more boozy laughter] A.D.: I gotta ask… you guys have a reputation as being a heavy drinking band. Has that gotten you into any trouble? Bone: Every time we run outta booze.

Bone: Do you want to hear from the drummer at all? A.D.: I don’t know, what does a McKenzie drummer have to say? Brad: It’s all good. We’ve got a new record coming out soon. [laughter] Paul: Tell him about Devo! Brad: We are all Devo. Bone: Can he get his own article, maybe? A.D.: You always have a mean-looking expression when drumming. What’s with that? Kurt: No monitors! Brad: I guess I’m a lot more angry inside than I appear. So, maybe it comes out in my expression … the way I look at you, spit at you and — aaarrrgghhh — get into it…. Bone: … that, and because he has big testicles and he’s always hitting them with his sticks. A.D.: You guys always get to show off your cock and balls, but when does anyone get to see the drummer’s underkilt? Kurt: He gets up and climbs over the drums… don’t worry, you’ll get to see Brad’s ‘nads.

[Catch The Real McKenzies with The Spitfires and The New Town Animals at The Nerve’s 2nd Anniversary issue release party at the ANZA Club, 3 W.8th Ave, Nov.16 , 9pm] all pics: Saturnin

The Strokes The Moldy Peaches Commodore October 13, 2001

W Supersuckers

Photo: B.C. Damsgaard

The Supersuckers Flash Bastard Richard’s on Richards October 14, 2001

here aren’t many things that will get me off the couch on a Sunday night, but the Supersuckers are one of them. What a great fucken show. There’s something about whiskey, cowboy punk, guitar rock, satan-loving and shit-kicking that really brings people together. I’ll sum up opening band Flash Bastard using what Eddie Spaghetti said when bassist Renaldo complained about missing The Strokes show. “Never even heard of ‘em,” he growled. “We’ll see where THEY are in ten years.” Hopefully not still wearing carefully shredded shirts and playing ‘80’s rock, glam metal and the Pretty in Pink soundtrack. Even with their name this is not a joke worth listening to, it is THE DEATH OF IRONY in tight pants and big hair. But they did have a lot of ENERGY and sure looked GOOD. After avoiding the floor like it carried a venereal disease the crowd swarmed the stage for the Supersuckers. Rumor has it only half the band still parties. You could probably guess, but who cares? When they started singing ‘I’m bad bad bad!’ a man screamed like he was being stabbed in the intestines. It was a genuine rock show! They played old and new stuff, with simultaneous leg kicks during ‘I Want Drugs,’ ‘My Kick Ass Life,’ ‘Hell City Hell,’ and a crazed ten minute version of ‘Whiskey River.’ Dan “Thunder” Bolton played his guitar with giant windmill action, occasionally stopping to actually pull a brush from his back pocket and re-feather his hair. It was the hottest thing I had seen all week. The last three songs were a built-in encore, with Eddie dedicating ‘Nitroglycerin’ to his wife and 4-year old son Quatro, who were rocking out sidestage. They finished with ‘Born With a Tail’ and everyone happily sent their middle digits flying. “That was the best show I’d ever seen!” some drunk kid yelled outside. The Supersuckers play that kind of rock and roll. What the hell, if Flash Bastard makes it ten years I’ll come to their show and give them the finger too. Beaver MacNeil

here the hell have I been? Apparently some massive bzzzzzz has built up around these guys lately. Maybe I haven’t been tuning into the radio often enough, where their single is in heavy rotation. Anyway, they were back in Vancouver again just a few months after their last gig here, this time movin’onup to headline the Commodore. Madgras and I showed up a bit late and missed the openers. Sorry, Moldy Peaches: I don’t know anything about you. When the curtains rose on the main event, the Strokes had decorated their stage with three giant TV set shapes. These would light up every once in a while to blind us all. Perhaps a metaphor for the blinding force of their music? Or just nifty? Most of the band were wearing rumpled suits that somehow reminded me of the Replacements, but with John Paul Jones’ haircut. The lead singer was found in an alley just prior to the show and probably smelled like piss, but he’s got a great crooning voice. The Strokes like to build their songs as three-chord walls of sound with a kind of hypnotizing drone effect. The vocals are a bit like how Tony Bennett would sing if he played CBGB’s in the late 70’s. Anyway, it’s nice to see melodic Clash-style guitar back in style. We’ll leave the palm-mute chugging to Blink -182 or whatever. Their set was great, but short with no encore. Would all bands please understand: people work hard for the money to go see shows... if you play for a long time they will be more happy and they’ll come again the next time you play. Paul Crowley

Joe Keithley and the Rabble Rousers with guests Railway Club Sept 24, 2001

An evening put on by Sudden Death Records, this was a showcase for what’s called Anarcoustic, the demented and crooked bridge between folk and hard punk which now is becoming a creditable scene of abstract song writers in Vancouver and not just a novelty offshoot of weirdness. This scene is really only happening in Canada and I feel it’s distinctly different from the Beck’s and Michelle Shock’s of N.Y.C. If you should happen on an anarcoustic show, go on in and witness some underground rock history in the raw present day. For this show, Joey “Shithead” Keithley was the MC. Dave Seymour started out the show clanking his capo against a wooden stick singing about a blue collar hero which gave the night a working class “I’m an individual” feel. Then I saw Ana Bon Bon with accordion dressed in this hot purple low-cut dress showing the room that polka-punk is possible. Ana is one bluesy cabaret on the street corner. Fat Joe Satan of Vancouver’s Shame got on stage and horked out his song, ‘Your Face, My Ass’ to positive response. He spewed out songs about sexually perverse thoughts that I’m sure a lot of The Nerve’s readers have every day, if not every hour, but won’t admit.

the Skids Slim Cessna’s Auto Club

crowd’s chant in full cult leader style. Love and unity could be seen in the eyes of all, and in unison they started bouncing slowly up, their cries building to a glorious crescendo, until Nardwaur stage dived into the welcoming embrace of his followers. You really have to hand it to the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion; The Wett Bar they persistently play with opening acts that Oct. 4, 2001 have the potential to upstage them. Next up was supposed to be The It was a crispy country fried evening down at Tight Bros from Way Back When, unfortunate- the Wett Bar, greasy and smelling of gasoline ly their set was inexplicably cancelled. Half from fixin’ voodoo Cadillacs and eatin’ fried the reason I went to the show was to see the chicken. Now the Wett Bar is NOT exactly the Tight Bros again because their last show in venue you’d expect to find two of the finest Vancouver was so great (the other half reason hick culture bands around, and as I entered the loungy, couch filled club I got the feeling the being Jon Spencer’s tight leather pants). city folk working the bar weren’t used to hav We had time to sip on a couple pints of Vancouver’s finest micro-brewed before the hottest cock in rock took the stage. Although JSBX neglected to play many hits, every note out of their twin guitars was pure bliss. Seeing them live Johnny Sizzle really exhibits how well they manage to translate their live sound onto vinyl, but the best part was the young gentleman wearing the white shirt/ red bow tie/authentic nerd glasses in the front row. Did anyone else catch his slick dance moves? If he is reading this, please write to The Nerve Southern Culture on the Skids Photo B.C. Damsgaard and give me your phone number. Richard’s on Richards When the band left for the Oct. 16, 2001 1st time (good fake out, you managed to ing the place full of simple country folk or trick… nobody!) Jon left his theremin screech- even having live bands in there for that matter. As soon as I entered Richard’s on Richards I ing. That, coupled with flashing blue lights The club’s inexperience with live music began could hear music from the opening band, the and a voice intoning, “blues explosion”, man- to show as the opening band began playing on Evaporators. As per usual, an arrival time of aged to bring out yet unrecognized epileptic a mostly unlit stage. Slim Cessna revved it up anyhow nine-thirty ensures one will miss half the tendencies in me. Thankfully, they came back show! Surrounding the stage were a small before any permanent damage was done, and with their brand of sad, lonely country with group of college goers crouching, with they managed to rock the house for another lazy Deadbolt style guitar riffs, which I unforNardwaur the human serviette, conducting the 20-25 minutes, playing some songs I could tunately only got to catch the last bit of. Those sing along to. What else can you say about guys have some talent, alright, and a double JSBX? Russell Simins and Judah Bauer are neck guitar with a mural of Jesus across the talented musicians, and Jon Spencer is the body. As the band finished their set sans man. He just is. This wasn’t their best live performance by far, but Jon Spencer made me stage lights, I got to wondering if the light feel like I was in grade school again, ripping technician was planning on even showing up to out an 81/2 x 11 glossy from Tiger Beat maga- illuminate our esteemed headliners. Southern Culture soon hit the stage, in the dark, with a zine. much welcomed ‘Too Much Pork for Just One Jenni Nelson Fork’ and they all dug on in from then on. The band was in fine form, dressed up to drive tractors and win hearts. The sexy queen of country cool, Ms Mary Huff, was as radiant as ever; party dress and hair piled on John Spencer Blues Explosion high. She surprisingly sang almost half the Photo: B.C. Damsgaard Oh lovely guilt. After that, Mr. Plow went on… Har har har… he’s Mr. Fun, singing about menstruation, pathetic barstool rockstars and fucking (actually sex, I mean actual sex) your mom with a cold fish. Mr. Plow has as song called ‘Even Hitler Had a Girlfriend’. A very good punk song, acoustic or not. Very crass. Next was Man of Death, in full army soldier outfit and gas mask, jumping up and hitting off song after song with an awesome stage presence. Yes sir, march to it!. Then the host, Joe Keithley, take to the stage with his drummer buddy. It’s an absolute pleasure seeing a hard core legend veteran not only perform action-packed songs, but crowd banter humorously while still getting serious political points across. 5 or 6 ripping songs, pretty good for a shithead. After Joey, the venue suggests that I, Johnny Sizzle, become the MC and so I did and introduced Joel Stuart MacNeil, clad in bag pipes… Captain Numb-Nuts!

Jon Spencer Blues Explosion The Evaporators

songs in the set this time which allowed Rick Miller to focus more on wowing the crowd with his amazing guitar prowess. That man is astounding and he doesn’t even shed a drop of sweat. Yep, so some dancing ensued and more songs about food followed, from ‘Banana Puddin’ to the highly anticipated ‘8 piece box’. The performance of this song is, of course, the moment in the evening when Cousin Crispy, the chubby, chicken slingin organ, guitar, and accordion player, without fail, lets loose the greasy poultry. The assembled fans by the stage scrambled madly for the free flying food, hungry and starved from saving up to pay the $20 cover. Out of starved desperation, I even ate a cold, oily thigh that hit me in the head. The SCOTS mostly played tunes from their recent album Liquored Up and Laquered Down and the more popular Dirt Track Date, including a well received ‘Camel Walk’ (the song that made ME a Skids fan) There were rumours that the Skids didn’t enjoy playing here this time at all, but as it was an excellent show albeit at a shitty venue. It had almost all the elements of a perfect SCOTS evening, including big hair, the chicken, go go dancing, dancin’, lovin’, a bit of southern culture - everything except the cheap corn liquor. At 6 bucks for a shot of whiskey, a good business venture might have been smuggling moonshine in and selling it cheaply in the bathrooms. Cowboy Texass

WANTED The Nerve is looking for music writers to review shows and records. contact the editor at 734-1611 or send a sample to: editor@thenerveonline.com

Southern Culture on

Straight 8 Preview!:

Vancouver Underground Film Festival November 22-25 at the Blinding Light

his November The Nerve’s favourite art cinema house brings back its festival of alternative, experimental and underground images. For the fourth year running, The Blinding Light!! will be screening new film and video works from across North America, accompanied by art installations, parties, music, free panel discussions, and if I remember correctly from last year, copious amounts of alcohol. Several screenings will feature guest appearances by the artists themselves, including Glen Sanford at his documentary Useless (about the Subhuman’s Gerry Hannah) and Vanessa Renwick at her biopic of folk artist Ritchart. As usual, many of the works featured are by Canadians, and all are outside the mainstream in form, content or both. If the thought of one more insipid romantic comedy starring John Cusack is bringing you down, step into The Blinding Light!! for a smack of fresh, creative fare. Highlights The Daddy of Rock’N’Roll is Montrealer Daniel Bilton’s glimpse into the life of Wesley Willis, Chicago’s schizophrenic rock star at-large. Bilton’s sympathetic, non-intrusive camera brings us into a typical day of bus riding, songwriting and meetings with friends.

Looking and sounding a bit like a black Andre the Giant, Willis comes off as an entertaining and likeable figure, despite his demons (the aptly named Nervewrecker, Heartbreaker and Meansucker) who call him “asshole” and force him to write songs about bestiality. While his life constantly fluctuates between joyride and hellride, Willis is clearly thrilled to be a rock star. An artist turned songwriter, Willis has a cult following of fans, including the Beastie Boys and Billy Corgan, but his catalogue of 2,000 songs are interesting for their bizarre and often hilarious lyrics rather than any musical capability they might suggest. A typically funny moment has Willis transcribing lyrics out loud at the neighborhood Kinko’s. “Suck on an Afghan hound’s raw dick! … ‘Scuse me miss, I’m just writing up a rock song.” Bilton’s film, which he directed, shot and edited himself, is an engagingly unusual picture of the mentally ill and what they can accomplish with luck and good friends. Bilton doesn’t shy away from revealing Willis’ huge, 400 lb. plus body or his endless talk about “sucking ass”, but we never condemn him or even feel sorry for him. This well-paced, nicely edited and touchingly humorous piece could well be Bilton’s Crumb. It certainly deserves to be. Short Films and Videos VUFF’s collection of experimental shorts may not be to everyone’s liking (I know I have a limited fidget control factor [FCF] for non-narrative based art pieces) but this year’s offering does

include some perks. The Milkman is so disturbing it has to be seen to be fully realized; all I can say is that I’ve now seen enough naked, 400 pound men to last me an eternity. The Tumor is a brief, twisted animation piece that makes no sense but is enjoyable nonetheless for its surrealism brought to (animated) life. Sand is another surrealist collection of unconnected anecdotes, narrated in Japanese and shot in a grainy sepia and black that appears to be painted on the celluloid. Like the festival itself, it is bizarre but strangely beautiful.

Gore!

MONSTER INVASION (FROM ALL SIDES)

oly shit, it’s Hallowe’en - time for all the goths to put on their Bauhaus shirts, time for the mall punks to put on their Misfits shirts, and time for the geeks like me to chill at home with a couple of all-time faves. The evening may consist of handing out candy or whatever, but the primary should be maybe playing a bit of THE FROGS “Death Songs” album and then turning the bloody VCR on. Fuckin’ eh. So, what to watch on this night of pure fucking evil (King

...continued on p. 15 13

Straight 8 ...continued from p. 13 Diamond style)? My hands usually reach for the early Italian gothic chillers like Bava’s Black Sunday or even Black Sabbath. That’s a hella atmosphere that’ll drive the Jack o’ lantern inside you into pure delirium. Overlooked by most is director Riccardo Freda. “Weirdo Eyes” herself Barbara Steele says that he was the shit

fuck with every viewing is the unknown Graveyard Of Horrors. Director Miguel Madrid unleashes a barrage of unparalleled idiocy/ genius and lays out a plot any fucker would die for. With the help of his masked servants, a man rises from the grave nightly to feed off the blood of the living and support his habit of staying alive, even though he is really half dead and looks like a poor man’s gillman, (with big sharp teeth!). But, no, wait — the film makes nooo sense —or too much sense. For the Sherlock Holmes in all of us, there’s a thriller twist and then the monster is added to the mix for the final Hail Jesus (à la Madrid). Among the fun elements are an unrelentingly depressing atmosphere and incredible graveyard/tomb scenery … very Freaky Friday. Well, there you go — the latest installment of my quest to see everything before I die and come back to life as one of Fulci’s extras. Happy Hallowe’en! SINISTER SAM […And from all the rest of us here at The Nerve… Happy Razor-Apple Day! - Editor]

Review!:

Vancouver International Film Festival Sept. 27-Oct. 12 2001

P when it came to good creepy scares and plot construction, and hey, I agree. The Horrible Dr. Hitchcock consistently scares the bejesus out of me with every viewing. “I swear she was dead … maybe I should screw her again anyways.” Yeah! The only problem with the above titles and directors is that they aren’t entirely trashy. Yeah the films are cheap, etc... but the tits and ass don’t let fly with the sweet quotes and random action that makes your head go “what the fuck is going on?” If you search REALLY hard for shit that rocks the boat in more ways than one you’ll eventually come across dudes like Amando de Ossorio. This guy knew what was up with his ever-popular Blind Dead series that features models up against the walking “blind” dead. Swords to the tits and medieval style heart-surgery are the tricks of the day, with a liberal mix of eerie tombs, small towns, and my favourite (from the fourth installment Horror Of The Zombies) — a ghost galleon— Death Ship-style, with stupid models and even dimmer advertising execs. “Please come out and save me - it’s scary!” Don’t go for the trerasure! The living dead will be back on shore to get you anyways. Ossorio also liked to tackle the monster theme with his goriest film, Lorelei’s GRASP. The legend of the Lorelei comes to life (!!!) as a reptilian fish-woman (when not shown in monster suit, played by the very sexy Helga Line) decides to turn the local girl’s school into a living hell by clawing up chests into a bloody mess (another creature trying to protect a treasure). But, holy shit, that’s not all! Ossorio ended his career in the 1980’s with his masterpiece - The Sea Serpent. He dragged legendary actor Ray Milland along with him in this rubber puppet show that has to be seen to be believed. It is choice to be reminded that not everything has to be fucked up with CGI because some actors don’t have the balls to climb into a big rubber mouth filled with teeth once and awhile. Another film that is a constant mind-

ractically my first experience at this year’s International Film festival was to realize that I am not in the least qualified to talk about film. In fact, my position as The Nerve’s Film Editor must be seen as a grievous sham — unfortunately there is no one to take my place so I must continue on with my facile analysis and (luckily) adequate editing skills. Notwithstanding the fact that I did once write a 40 page paper on Nationalism and Canadian Cinema, several points against me must, in all fairness, be brought to light: 1) Despite having a Media Pass (allowing free entry into any film and privileged status via the Pass Holder’s line) I did not see a single film until 6 days into the festival. It’s true I have a nine-to-five job, but a true aficionado would have taken a leave of absence or something. At this first viewing, the volunteer sitting beside me already had an annotated list of about 30 films that he’d seen, rated from 1-5. 2) Even after realizing that I was not up to par, I willfully insisted on working, and then on visiting my friends who were in town for Thanksgiving and staying at my apartment. This attitude resulted in me seeing only 5 films in total, even with the aforementioned pass. 3) I based my choices almost entirely on location and time considerations, and not on any recommendations. If anything approached the 2 hour mark, I was NOT in. I also tried to stay away from the Ridge and the Hollywood, based on the assumption that the rich people who can afford passes would live closer to these theatres and they’d be too packed. (My one visit to the Hollywood seemed to prove this theory wrong, however. Vancouver Centre was always WAY worse.) I must say that after 4 years out of the province/ country during festival time, I was surprised and impressed with the turnout. Every film I attended appeared to be at capacity seating; of course I can’t comment on the ones I missed due to 9-to-5itis, and those might have been less popular. However, there truly was a festival type atmosphere, with strangers happily conversing and comparing films. The legions of volunteers were very dedicated, and a good portion of Vancouver’s filmmaking community seemed to be in attendance.

Partly because of the location/time considerations 3 out of the 5 films I managed to see were Canadian, and I have to say I enjoyed them the most. Since it’s possible that some of these films will even get distributed here, I’ll limit my reviews to these three. Suddenly Naked (2001) directed by Anne Wheeler Suddenly Naked follows Wheeler’s trend of dealing with strong female protagonists, as seen as her two most recent releases, Better Than Chocolate and Marine Life. The plot is a familiar one — respected, older writer/artist gets writer’s block, but is inspired by a young, talented fan. The twist? The writer is a woman and the young fan becomes one of a long (and extremely detailed) list of lovers who last for more than one session. Of course the writer has a problem, in that her protégé is 20 years younger than herself, but he makes her realize what’s really important in life. It all sounds quite hackneyed, which is why I was surprised to really, really enjoy this film. Elyse Friedman’s screenplay is actually very witty and at times laugh-out-loud funny, while leads Wendy Crewson and Joe Cobden are both perfect in their roles. Crewson’s depiction of Jackie, a bitter, funny and very intelligent woman who drinks a bit too much but has a very healthy appetite for sex is nuanced enough to keep us rooting for Jackie until the end. Newcomer Joe Cobden, who apparently comes from a background of street performance in Montreal, has great timing and brings a comedic touch to the thoroughly likeable Patrick. There’s also lots of sex between Jackie and various men, and a pretty funny send-up of the film industry itself. An added bonus is the Vancouver location, which is unusually recognizable but has rarely been allowed to look so gorgeous or so cosmopolitan. Rare Birds (2001) directed by Sturla Gunnarson. Sturla Gunnarson made an appearance at the showing of Rare Birds that I attended, and I suspect this might have had an influence on the audience’s reaction. It could also have been endof-the-festival giddiness or the predisposition to love everything ‘maritime,’ but I just didn’t think the film was as funny as everyone else seemed to. This Newfoundland-shot film follows the wacky hijinks of restaurant owner Dave, played by William Hurt, and his well-meaning but slightly cracked neighbor, Alphonse Murphy (Andy Jones). Dave’s restaurant, on a picturesque but isolated stretch of coast, has absolutely no customers and his wife has packed up and gone to Washington. Alphonse comes up with a scheme to draw customers in with a phony rare bird sighting, in return for Dave’s help with some schemes of his own. Jones’ character is quite entertaining, but Hurt’s Dave is far from appealing; in fact, I could not see any reason that Molly Parker (who appears as his urbane young love interest) would have anything to do with him. While Dave is portrayed as being more sophisticated than Alphonse (he’s been to the big city and has a cellar of fine wines) he comes off as a dolt. Gunnarson’s script doesn’t go in for much character development, but I suspect another actor could have made Dave at least a bit likeable. And was that an attempt at a Newfie accent I heard kick in about 10 minutes into Hurt’s performance? Some funny moments indeed, but not my pick of the festival. Nuit deNoces (2001) directed by Emile Gaudreault Oh, the Québecois …never tired of physical humour or jokes about sex, bless them. This entry was a blockbuster hit in Québec, and thinking of my francophone friends there, I can

definitely understand why. This ‘will they/won’t they’ tale of a couple who wins a full wedding package complete with a trip to Niagara Falls is a pleasantly light-hearted exploration of love and the evolving nature of relationships. As the know-it-all volunteer beside me remarked, it’s quite a nice commentary on changing social patterns in Québec. It also puts an interesting spin on the relationship between the Québecois and the rest of Canada as seen from their side, as one of the characters remarks “I had to come all the way to Ontario for this!” There’s also the anglo hotel worker who continuously claims “je parle français,” until the frustrated lead sets her straight. Mostly though, it’s just fun, with plenty of erection jokes and a liberal peppering of Québecois swears, and of course more breathtaking Canadian scenery.VIFF Elizabeth Nolan

Japan’s Cinematic Overburner Miike Takashi Vancouver International Film Festival (VIFF) 2001, Sept. 27-Oct. 12

Japanese director not named Takeshi Kitano appears to have found a populist home in Vancouver! Not yet distributed in regular cinemas in Canada, the recognition of stylistic ace Miike Takashi by local audiences is due both to his prodigious output - he’s managed 12-plus features since 1996 - and the efforts of VIFF’s East Asia Programmer Tony Rayns to not only present them here, but also bring Miike over (for the 1998 Festival.) This year’s VIFF had three Miike films, and the two I saw - Ichii the Killer (so good I saw it twice) and Dead or Alive 2 - were well-attended by hip, enthusiastic crowds fully ready for the Miike Takashi ride. The ride? Technically, Miike Takashi films are beautifully shot, with crystalline clarity, painstaking composition and a bright palette of colour. There tends to be some funny/scary Yakuza involved, and a serious Œhuman interest’ back story. But though the art house and humanist cinema criteria are fully met, every possible moral propriety is subsequently blasted and/or dissected with maximum gratuity. Yep, we’re talking gore. Blood and guts - quite literally. Deeper yet - stomach contents and their eventual byproduct (shiite, man) may well make a creative appearance. Violence? Takashi takes the nihilism of the Yakuza genre and ups it to Spinal Tap’s proverbial “11”. In other words, not only does everybody die, but in graphic, imaginative detail. Sex? Takashi whips the uniquely Japanese aesthetic of the perverse to new heights, then tosses it into his cinematic blender with the violence. Despite many scenes of extreme bodily experience, I heard more laughter than gasps at Ichii the Killer and Dead or Alive 2. Takashi’s sensibility is unapologetic, and the more films he makes the better he pulls it off - though I’d have to say the beating-on-women parts are still probably beyond even the most un-PC Westerner’s tolerance level. But the real bonus for me was the genuine quality Takashi has achieved with characters you get to know and stories that involve. Some of his earlier efforts were a little hollow and thus his stylistic flourishes came across as just that. But with this year’s offering, integrity of story and style has been delivered.

TV!:

Dmidtrui Otis

continued over...

Straight 8 Kromosphere: the arkives “the most talked about TV show that nobody’s seen yet”

Maya Miller

hen Maya Miller heard the news last June that she’d been picked to pitch her pilot at the Banff Festival of Television Arts, she’d already almost forgotten she’d applied. Miller had scripted, directed and filmed the pilot almost two years previously, and had submitted the on-line application to the festival back in January. She was busy preparing a complete promotion package to take to YTV when she got the call, and with just days to prepare, hopped on a Greyhound and headed to Banff. The Banff Festival of Television Arts is an important convention for industry professionals in Canada; according to Miller its filled with people from the broadcast industry who are hoping to make millions on their next project and who can afford to stay at the prestigious Banff Springs Hotel. Miller and her partner at the time checked into the Youth Hostel, and although she was invited, she could only afford to pay for two hours each — just time enough for her to make her pitch and meet a few contacts. At $1500 in total or $75 an hour, the Banff Festival isn’t an easy place for a newcomer with no budget and no previous experience to break into. Apparently however, Miller’s two hours there was enough. “Kromosphere: the arkives” had a freshness that appealed to the people that decide things, and the half-hour pilot was picked up for possible development by the CBC. Kromosphere follows two affiliated gangs from another dimension and their quest to find their way to Earth. The skateboard-riding Galaxy Deck Girls and their bike-riding friends the Banana Seat Boys are obsessed with Earth’s pop culture in all its forms and so they try to find their way here. My first thought on hearing the plot was

continued of “The Warriors”, to which Miller exclaimed, “That’s my biggest inspiration!” Unlike in the classic gang film, however, Kromosphere’s gangs work together. And in keeping with an ongoing TV scenario, they probably won’t ever reach their journey’s end. While the pilot basically introduces the characters and their quest, Miller has written an entire season of episodes to come. The gangs will have to collect DNA samples and piece them together in the proper sequence to formulate a map to our dimension. Mostly, though, plots will deal with the gang members’ adventures along the way, which unfold in a soap opera-like fashion complete with love triangles, etc. Miller created Kromosphere with a lot of creativity, a very small budget ($100) and a lot of help from her friends. She filmed the pilot on locations around the Downtown East Side using her High 8 camera and one belonging to a friend. Her friends are the actors, and the costumes came from Value Village. The fact that Miller is approaching mainstream TV stations to produce Kromosphere doesn’t mean she’s looking for a slick upgrade, however. Miller fully intends to keep the low budget, indie look intact; “why blow money on high tech weapons when you can buy loonie store squirt guns and spray paint them silver?” Ultimately she sees Kromosphere appearing somewhere between 11pm and 1am on Friday or Saturday as a cult following. As she describes it, the show is “a little bit off... definitely off” and “pretty wry.” Lately Miller has been working on putting together a complete project with all the components ready to go to the next level. She’s adamant about keeping the show in Canada and within Vancouver if possible. So far she’s done everything with the help of her friends, and she’d like to continue that arrangement. For now, she says, everyone’s doing it for free because they want to, but “the goal is hopefully I can bring them with me as I go along by setting up a good package.” Currently on board are a friend with an art direction proposal, a costume designer, a DJ, an animator, and a web site designer. While her DJ friend Son of Jacob works on creating a soundtrack that represents a “mish-mash” of pop culture, another friend is creating animated versions of the characters. Miller hopes to have animated segments that randomly interchange with the live action. For the time being, the future of Kromosphere is still unknown, but Miller was very positive about CBC’s interest. For now, would-be fans can visit the web site at www. kromospherethearkives.com . And if you happen, like I did last spring, to see an ominous chalk message on the sidewalk somewhere that proclaims “Kromosphere: the arkives is coming”, you’ll be prepared. Elizabeth Nolan

JOIN THE NERVE TEAM! we are looking for a few dedicated guys and gals to help with the marketing and promotion of The Nerve Magazine and Nerve events. for more information contact: Brad at 734-1611 editor@thenerveonline.com 16

Punch Drunk 3 Compilation TKO Records Probably the most established label for specializing in high quality street punk, TKO Records prove once again that the real stuff is here to stay. In this most recent edition in the Punch Drunk series, we’re given over 20 acts from the states along with a few from the welfare state of England. This release begins with The Beltones from Florida. This band emerged on the scene a few years back winning many over with their sped up Stiff Little Fingers style. This track entitled ‘Better Then a Kick in the Head’ is up and coming from their highly anticipated new full length. A few other established names here include The Generators, Niblick Henbane, Workin’ Stiffs, US Bombs and Bonecrusher. On the Punk ‘n’ Roll side of things we’re given decent stuff from Electric Frankenstein and The Stitches. Excellent cover songs showing The Forgotten doing Generation X, Anti Seen the Ramones and yet another version of ‘Folsom Prison Blues’ by Johnny Cash is redone by Terminus City. Now considering over half this material is unreleased makes the retail $10 price tag a bargain. Aaronoid. @Home @Sunrise Compilation Moonshine Records It’s the middle of October and I’m out on my patio wearing a Hawaiian shark print shirt & khaki shorts, holding a bottle of imported beer and grooving to the @home @sunset/sunrise compilation. There are 24 tracks of pure kick ass electronica between these two fine disks. @sunset is the happy fun chilling CD of the two. It showcases some great tracks by Alex Gopher, Man Called Adam and my fave The Mambo Craze by De-Phaz featuring the sexy voice of Pat Appleton. This song is so fucking sweet it makes you want to smoke cigars and drink martinis all day long. The 2nd CD @home @sunrise is the ultimate ambient relaxor encounter. This is the choice CD to play if you had a long day at work or you just trippin’ the mind. Sabers of Paradise tickle your senses with the great track called Smoke, while Bedrock’s ambient extravaganza Beautiful Strange puts you in a state of wonder and enjoyment, then seamlessly segues to the Electric Skychurches beautifully arranged Deus. This double disk set is a unique chillout experience and a must if you are into acid jazz, ambient shit and just like to groove down to the pure sound of electronique delight. A unique chilling experience, indeed. Adler Floyd CHI Anywhere But Here Independent Judging from their recently released 67 minute album, Anywhere But Here Chi draws its influences from the basic pool of contemporary heavy music—Korn, Tool, Deftones etc—so their sound is not fresh or unusual. Despite this limitation, Chi pulls off several explosive sections that hint at a powerful live show. Unfortunatley, when the chorus’ kick in and the listener expects the vocalist to yell or shout or at least sing at the top of his range, he does the unforgivable and whispers through heavily reverbed distortion. Each song on the album is separated by a section of film score-esque meanderings that nullify any potential for momentum Anyehere But Here might have had if the songs had been ordered back to back and the meanderings either chopped or put at the end. At this stage in the game, Chi does not have the musical authority to pull off a 67 minute album. Not many bands do. Harold Septic Converge Jane Doe Equal Vision Records From grind to punk to slow Jesus-Lizard-style grooves, Converge plays it with artistic originality and craft on their cleanly produced new album, Jane Doe. Converge uses the musical tool of repetition

with intention, unlike the bulk of rock bands who discover repetition as a by-product of their pitiful imaginations and then exploit it out of sheer laziness. The members of Converge are both musically thoughtful and highly skilled at their instruments. In other words, they are the only type of people that should be allowed to play this type of aggressive and chaotic music. The vocals consist of sounds you might hear Axl Rose make while performing his own vasectomy, however, there are also brief sections of harmony and melody that create an effective contrast to the screaming without the threat of cheeziness. Converge’s use of subtle musical contrast and variation ensures that they will not run out of new ideas any album soon. Harold Septic Corb Lund Band Unforgiving Mistress Independent Damn fool title for a record, combined with a bloody eyesore of an art-deco devolved cover design prepared me for an evening of utter banality. Not for the first time I was wrong. I can’t tell you how much I loved this album, I literally can’t explain. I think it’s folk music, I hate folk music, but this is just odd enough to fling itself down a different back-passage. God help me, I can actually recommend this thing to people who hate folk music, which is everybody clean, really. This is an obscenely fun, noisomly jolly and occasionally brutal album. Super best moment is what very much seems to be a translated cover of an old French fighting song, containing simply precious lyrics such as, “has he been burned alive by the chemical fire?”. This Corb Lund guy is pretending to be a girl, right, who’s boyfriend fucked off to go fighting. I absolutely love this record. Jason Aisworth The Dragons Rock N Roll Kamikaze Junk Records I really like the Dragons- killer live band, super nice guys. Their first album; Cheers to Me was promising, the second one Rock Like Fuck was quite good, but Rock N Roll Kamikaze is, frankly, a letdown. Uninspired songwriting and demo quality sound was not what I was hoping for, because- as I said- I really like the Dragons. I’m going to have to track down the son-of-a-bitch who borrowed my copy of Rock Like Fuck and never gave it back because Rock N Roll Kamikaze makes me miss it. Mike O Electric Frankenstein The Buzz of A Thousand Volts Victory Record Wow, I’ve got to say, these guys have a pretty impressive bio. I mean, they name-drop everyone from Gene Vincent to Slayer and basically tout themselves as the saviors of rock ‘n’ roll. I mean, I was half expecting the second coming of Christ when I put this on but all the rock ‘n’ roll rebel propaganda and fancy lyric sheets can’t really hide the fact that this is just a pretty decent rock ‘n’ roll record. Nothing ground breaking or even interesting. It doesn’t matter that it’s “recorded in glorious 48 track analog on vintage instruments and amplifiers from the 40’s to 70’s,” it still sounds like every other slick, commercial rock ‘n’ roll record since Dr. Feelgood. But it’s got a good beat and you can dance to it… so what the fuck. Rusty “grouchy old man” Haight Glasshead s/t Identity Records Kitimat’s hardest working punk band has just released another disc. 11 tracks fill out this pop punk release on Identity Records. Standouts for me are ‘Nothing but a loser’ and ‘Be a man’. Short

Dig That Groove Baby By Ogla! but sweet. I didn’t think the Lita Ford cover was worth putting on, same with the instrumental ‘Trippin’ on two’. Pick it up nonetheless. DC Hector Zazou and Sandy Dillon (Las Vegas Is Cursed) First World Music If you’ve ever been on a long car-trip, listening to the CBC, this is the type of thing that comes on around two in the morning right before you slide into the ditch. This is a record that’s impossible to categorize that seems custom made for “brave new waves.” Weird, hypnotic, scary, nothing you can hum. It sounds like the soundtrack to a very bizarre film and so I found myself wondering what the characters would be doing during every song. Usually human sacrifices or something. Nothing you’ll want to play when you’re in the mood to rock out (or when you’ve got to operate heavy machinery) but a great background for debauchery. Rusty Haight Hi-Standard Love is a Battlefield Fat Wreck Chords Love is a Battlefield is sadly a four song ep. By the time the last track is over you are left itching for more. Ep’s suck. If this was a single with bonus tracks to promote their new disc that would be understandable, but it’s not. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good (dare I say it) ep. Two originals and two covers, including Elvis’s “Can’t help falling in love”. There is a theme here. It’s good but too short. DC Insipid Speed Queen Independent Y’know there’s nothing lower than a critic. Someone who makes their living slagging those with the artistic talent that they themselves were born without. Nothing but parasites in the artistic community sucking off of those with the ability to

create. How many music critics out there could actually play an instrument or carry a tune if their life depended on it? It’s really hard to write a song, especially one that people are going to like and it’s the easiest thing in the world for someone to just sit there and say “I don’t like it.” Even writing this makes my skin crawl. Yuck I feel unclean. With that out of the way, I didn’t especially like this record. It’s too “grunge,” for my taste. But then who gives a damn what I think anyway?

Zeke Death Alley Aces & Eights/Sonic Unyon “AAAAOOOWWWW!” Chainsaws, chicks and motorcycles. Punk Rock the way Satan intended it- ‘Evil Dead’, ‘Evil Woman’, ‘Eyes of Satan’, you might not want Zeke for your Food Bank benefit gig, but if you’re having a house wrecking party…. Death Alley is all about the kicking of ass. Buy it. I’m not kidding.

Rusty Haight Propagandhi Today’s Empires, Tomorrow’s Ashes G7 Welcoming Committee I guess it’s more like “Today’s Empire’s, Today’s Ashes” now. I wonder if the guys from Propagandhi have been hauled in for questioning since September 11 for their oddly prophetic album title and front cover featuring a tattered American flag. There’s definitely a dossier on them somewhere.… The band doesn’t pull any punches in singing about cointelpro, Ruby Ridge or American imperialism in the Middle East. The messages are delivered through music that combines hardcore crust with spot-on hair metal riffing and will have your fist in the air in no time. Check out the G7 Welcoming Committee Website for useful links to places that deliver a different perspective on current world events than that being spooned out by CNN.

Mike O The Chick Magnets Girl Crazy Crusty Records The Chick Magnets are like those infamous underground Vancouver grow-op’s that we all hear about. We know they exist but some of us chose to participate more frequently than others. This three-piece Crusty Records band seems like they would have always been around town and yet I’ve never seen them play. Could be because of a recent drummer situation or the general woes of life, love and Steamrollers (where, if you happen to be walking close to the corner of Homer and Davie, you may just run into a certain young spinach rap magnet named Luke.) I first met Luke (aka Drunk) on a lunch break where I was given the now wonderfully appreciated E-Bay demo for his band. Two listens in and I was singing along. But seriously now, The Chick Magnets may seem like total goof and gaiety but put them on a decent stage some Friday night and dollars to donuts we would all have a head bouncing, hip shaking good time. Try quick silver guitar riffs, hot pepper vocals and jumpy drum beats all laid out nice and smooth by little Ernie from Big Midget Studios. I will say this about the Magnets, the website action is minimal at best. The last entry into the rock log was made in July of 2001 well before the release of their latest, Girl Crazy. No worries though, we can’t all be computer geeks.

Paul Crowley Victorian Pork S/T Porcine Music This local act is proof that the spirit of ‘77 is still alive and kicking. After an almost 20 year hiatus, Victorian Pork arrived back on the Vancouver scene a few years ago with an entirely different line up including new female guitarist/ vocalist, LX, not even conceived during the original form. Teenage LX belts out a vocal style resembling that of late 70’s acts like The Avengers and Dishrags. The production quality on this disc is high and although the musicianship is standard, song structure seems to be lacking and does very little to keep my interest. Live, however, Victorian Pork always deliver the goods with excellent renditions of old Punk

The Little Man In The Boat

was going down on my girlfriend. I think it may have been a Tuesday. Anyhow, I had devised a pretty good technique for giving face. I’d just close my eyes and lick the alphabet; A-B-C and so on, first capitals, then lower case and if it really took her awhile to get off, I’d do numbers. I could usually make her come at around forty seven. So there I was, just about to put the dot on the lower-case j and I saw something peeking out. I slowed down my tongue and tried to get a closer look but it darted back in. Perhaps I was imagining things. I kept on licking away. Then I saw it again. I knew it couldn’t be my imagination, I had definitely seen something. I tapped my girlfriend on the thigh. “Honey...” She didn’t respond. “Uh ... darling.” “What?” she gasped. “What’s the problem?” I was unsure of how to broach the subject delicately. “I saw something funny down there,” was the best I could do. “You what?” she asked, annoyed at the interruption. “I saw something poking out of you and I’m not sure what it was.” “Exactly what are you trying to say?” I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just saw something. I thought I should bring it to your

classics. The covers they do would’ve been a good bonus on this release… maybe next time. Aaronoid.

Tara MacDonald

NERD… The final frontier. This is a journey of discovery. The discovery of the nerd in all of us. That witch makes our record collections grand, our super heroes real and gives substance to our embracing of pop culture? “Sound effects to end intro” (suggestions: whap! Kupow! Ratta tat tat… Kursplat!) So the reissue / bootleg world has run rampant over the past couple of years, a natural response to the up and coming implosion of the internet which has pushed PUN-KROCK collectibles prices through the roof. Don’t fret my minimalist waged friends, the HITS are here! So let the price come down…. Those JAKS kids are gonna be happy to know they can own more than just the patch of the favorite SK8 rock slabs. The Zero Boys Vicious Circle LP and ‘Livin’ in the 80’s’ single were both reissued by Panic Button, the sub label to Lookout! Run by Ben Weasel of Screeching Weasel fame! The Big Boys finally had a vinyl re-release, well at least a bootleg of the Frat Cars single. The ultra rare Hollywood Squares’ Hillside Strangler single is also hot in the bootleg world, possibly bringing down the 500 plus us that single currently pulls in. Almost the entire Cramps back catalogue is back in print including a regular cover sleeve of the Look Ma No Head LP all thanks to the Vengeance label. The big question thoooo, is who’s gonna pick up the Meatmen’s Caroline back catalogue? Seen as how Colonel Jockey’s Suck is topping the charts in the US? And there’s still no Oi! band called the Skinny Skins. Don’t worry, vindication will be mine when my solo album strength thru McLoi! Comes out of the closet. The sort of recent re-release or the incredible shrinking and down of the Dickies was nice, too bad the scanner they used made the cover artwork look like the toilet water at The Cobalt. And I’m sure they could have found sample copies to scan from that didn’t have ring wear! A similar story plagues the Boys back catalogue on the Get Back label. Although it should be mentioned that Get Back does kick ass for keeping a lot of classic LPs in print that have long since been shelved by the majors. For those of us who watched Trashin one too many times, you’ll be happy to know that Steve Cabellero and the Faction were recently back in the studio and rockin’ live in Seattle with the likes of other Thrasher skate rock alumni JFA, Los Olvidados, The Drunk Injuns and the US Bombs. And no, Cory Webster and crew do not have a DVD with behind the scenes footage of the ramp locals and a never before seen one-on-one interview with Hook and the Daggers. But the Goonies DVD with big brother Cory Webster is in stores now. Maybe included are the alternate endings? Possibly answering the urban legend of the gone but not forgotten Octopus scene? The unfortunate demise of Man’s Ruin has left heaps of Rot’n’Roll bands with no label. Maybe they’ll get signed to Robert Smith’s new one that he started when all the royalty cheques recently came pouring in from the 1979 hit single ‘Killing an Arab’? Word on the street is Sub Pop is back collecting food stamps and welfare cheques. What are they gonna do with themselves now that the Murder City Devils are kaput, Gucifer and the Hellacopters quit, the Halos and the Supersuckers are drinkin’ near beer? Maybe the Suckers will play my 12th anniversary straight edge kegger? Well I guess we’ll be seeing a late night paid program for the forthcoming Time Life Series “The Grunge Years” just as long as it’s not on Space channel.

by Rusty Haight

attention.” “Are you trying to raise some sort of question about my hygiene?” she asked. That woman of mine did not like to be interrupted. “No,” I said, trying to maintain calm. “All I’m saying is that I thought saw something poking out and when I looked at it, it went back in. Let’s just forget about it.” What letter was I at again? My tongue started again. “What are you doing now?” she asked. “I’m forgetting about it,” I said. “Get of out there, I’m not in the mood anymore.” She pushed my head out of the way. Fine. I jerked off and that was the end of it. That night I lay there, looking at the ceiling, listening to her snore. I’d all but forgotten about our little tiff. Then I heard a voice, whispering, very, very quietly. “Hey!” I almost couldn’t make it out. “Hey!” Someone was calling me. I looked on the pillow beside me. No signs of life. It seemed to be coming from under the covers. “Hey!” I stuck my head beneath the sheets. The voice kept calling me. “Over here, you big jerk.” It seemed to be coming from my girlfriend’s navel. No, lower. It was her cunt. Was it talking to me?

Was I losing my mind? “I’m in here!” the voice yelled. It was definitely coming from her cunt. I got my head in right close. It was a good thing she was such a heavy sleeper. I pulled the lips apart slowly. I heard the voice coming from inside. It sounded like it was at the end of a long hallway. “Well, well, well.” “Who’s there?” I whispered. “None of your business,” called the voice. “What’s going on here?” I asked. “Who are you? How did you get in there.” The voice ignored me. “Listen pal,” it said. “I’m only going to say this once. Stay the hell away from here, okay? Just stay away.” “Stay away?” “Yeah, that’s right, I’m tired of your big, wet tongue down here.” “Come out of there,” I said. “No,” said the voice. “I don’t want to.” “You’re what I saw today. I knew I saw something.” “Yeah, you saw me. I see you all the time and I’m sick of your ugly face so keep away. It’s the last time I’m going to tell you.” “No,” I said. “I’m not going to stay away.” I paused for a moment. “Jesus, I’m talking to a cunt.”

“No you’re not!” screamed the voice. “You’re talking to me! This cunt is my home!” “Well, I didn’t know crabs could talk.” “I am not a crab!” yelled the voice, irate. I waited a moment, then saw a tiny head poke out. It was a little man. His head was the size of my thumbnail. I was in shock. “Oh, my god, what are you?” He sneered. “I’m the little man in the boat.” “Where’s your boat?” “Never mind that. Just heed my warning. Keep away!” He pointed a tiny finger at me. With that he disappeared. “Hey!” I yelled. “You get back here.” I jabbed at him with my index finger, actually pushing it into my girlfriend’s vagina. “Ow!” she screamed, leaping up, finally awake. “What in the hell are you doing?” I was dumbfounded. “I was trying to sleep, you bastard! I’m not in the mood for your clumsy advances!” “Sorry,” I muttered. She rolled over and went to sleep. I stayed up in a cold sweat. I could hear the little jerk laughing at me.

continued over... 17

Little Man ...from previous p. The next day the two of us were in bed, or I guess the three of us you could say. He was still there, I was sure of it. My girlfriend began to kiss me and rub my shoulders. I pulled away. “What’s wrong?” “Uh ... nothing.” We continued to kiss. I was scared. Pretty soon we were naked. I decided to forego cunnilingus. I didn’t want to look down there. I had no idea what would happen if we had sex but I was horny. As soon as I inserted I heard “Hey!” “Oh shit!” I muttered. “What?” She asked. “Did the condom break?” “No.” “Then what?” “Nothing.” I took another stroke. More yelling from down below. “Ow! Fuck you!” I climbed off. “What?” she was annoyed. I shook my head. “I can’t do this.” “Why not?” I was mortified. “I just can’t.” I took the condom off and threw it in the trash. I lay awake again that night, listening to her. When I was sure she was out I went between her legs. “Look you asshole, I know you can hear me in there. You’re ruining my sex life. Come out of there.” I heard the voice. “No, fuck you.” “I said get out here!” “This is my home,” said the little voice. I’m tired of you interrupting my peace and quiet, I’m tired of being poked by you and all the other guys she fucks on the side.” I was enraged. “Get out here now!”

“No! I don’t have to do anything,” the voice taunted. “I hate you,” I told him. I’m going to get you if it’s last thing I do.” I thought about that little man a lot. Where had he come from. Had he been there all along? If so, why had I never noticed him? What did he do during her cycle? I was losing sleep over this type of thing. The next day my girlfriend was feeling randy again. I decided to go with it. The hell with him. I’d poke the shit out of him. As soon as I stuck it in I heard it again. “Ow!” I shoved it in harder. “Ow! You fuck!” I slammed her harder and faster than I ever had. I pounded it in deep, all the while thinking of revenge. “Ow! Ow! Stop it! Stop it!” She was loving it. I must have made her come about a dozen times. I held off as best I could to get more shots in. “Take that!” I muttered. “Die! Die!” Finally I came. That night he talked to me again. “Now you’re in for it, wise guy. I tried to warn you.” “What are you going to do?” I taunted him. “You’re not even the size of my thumb.” “Mark my words,” said the little voice inside the cunt. “You’ll pay.” I grinned to myself. I was getting to him. My girlfriend was surprised at how much more interested in sex I was than usual. If only she knew. I had a plan of attack now. I reached in her panties and started to finger-fuck her. I swished around inside and tried to poke at him. “Where are you?” I muttered. I kept pinching my fingers together, hoping to crush his puny head. Evidently this felt good. Still I

couldn’t find him. Then I heard laughing. It wasn’t coming from the usual place. I felt like it was coming from my own head if that was possible. Like it was echoing into my brain. “Where are you?” I whispered. “I told you I’d get you!” hissed the voice. “I crawled inside your asshole while you were asleep!” I pulled my finger out and ran to the washroom screaming. “Get out! Get out! You

I had a finger up my ass and I was cursing and promising revenge. "What are you doing?" she shrieked. "Never mind!" I slammed the door. I started to cry. bastard! I’ll shit you out! I’ll get you I swear!” He laughed and laughed. My girlfriend got out of bed and ran in to see what was going on. I had a finger up my ass and I was cursing and promising revenge. “What are you doing?” she shrieked. “Never mind!” I slammed the door. I started to cry. “Get out! Get out of me, please, I’ll do whatever you want.” “No,” he said. “I like it in here. I think I’ll stay.” “Please,” I begged. “I’ll think about it,” said the little voice. “Now how about I jump up and down on your bladder!” “Ack! No!” It was horrible. He tap danced on my guts.

pening?”

There was a banging on the door. “Are you okay in there? What’s hap-

“I’ll be out in a minute!” I tried to reason with him. “Look, I’m sorry about all that’s happened, I really am. I’ll leave her alone, I won’t bother you anymore, just get out of me! I swear, just leave and I’ll never bother you again.” “Break up now!” yelled the voice. “Tell her you don’t want to see her anymore. Tell her there’s someone else.” “Okay, okay.” I opened the door. “Honey ... I’m sorry but I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” “What?” she was pissed off. “I’m sorry, there’s someone else.” She smacked me across the face. “Don’t be mad.” Crack! She hit me again. “Get out! Get out! Take your things and get out!” She threw my clothes at me. It was a shame. I would miss her, even if her crotch was infested with strange little men. True to his word, the little man was gone. I got on with my life. It was hard getting over the break up but soon I had met someone new. We had been fooling around a little and dating sort of casually. Then one day we were back at her place. We were necking and things were getting kind of intense. She pulled out a condom. “Why don’t you put this on?” “You’re ready?” I asked. It’d been a couple weeks already. She nodded. I complied and kissed her on the mouth and slowly stuck my protected penis inside of her. That’s when it happened. Another little voice. “Ow! Fuck off!” I screamed and took off running for the door.

Hellions, Fresh Hells and Hal

When life hands you lemons, fuck the lemonade…pick a big one, take aim and try to bean someone in the head. Distraction is a fundamental physiological need, particularly when the Carnage News Network offers a steady diet of round-the-clock team coverage of “the tragedies” and “the aftermath” of “the terror”. Whether it comes in the form of sex, drugs & alcohol or spending money (because after all, shopping will heal America, won’t it?), people need to find a way to keep it surreal. Celebrate your apathy with these titles designed to counteract the goddamn fucking holiday spirit that will be clogging the arteries of our culture for the next two months. Mosquitoes & Whisky Chris Walter Gofuckyerself Press (July 2001) The gateway in Cary Warder’s life is not drugs or alcohol…it’s boredom. He and his brothers and sisters are hustled grumpily from house to house by parents just trying to get by in shitty prairie suburbs in the mid-1970s. We follow Cary through his teen years, as exploration gives way to criminal instigation, incarceration, massive inebriation and bouts of furniture defenestration. The prolific, (self-published, ring-bound) Chris Walter puts Cary and his long-suffering mother through all the fresh hells of a teenage Henry Miller, dirty and stoned and looking to get laid. Cary, his friends and his siblings come of age with drugs and alcohol as social lubricants, and their relentless pursuit of fun against crippling 70s odds is worth a read and a rousing cheer from fans of Walter’s earlier books Beer, Punk Rules O.K. and Anarchy Soup, and any survivors of similarly punishing suburban conditions. And if you still can’t get out, the ring binding makes it an easy read on the long bus ride to No Fun City. LT Ditch By Hal Niedzviecki Random House Canada ($24.95 pb) Grey, cold, disturbing and devoid of hope, but at the same time well-crafted, intelligent and thought-provoking. These are the first words that come to mind to describe Hal Niedzviecki’s latest novel Ditch. Ditch is essentially a suspense novel set around two very different yet equally pathetic, empathy-evoking characters. Ditch is a 23-year-old-delivery van driver who still lives with his mom, is uncomfortable in his own skin and is trying (with very little effort) to make sense of his dead-end existence. Debs is a young (we never learn how young) runaway from Maryland, who arrives in Toronto having left behind a mysterious past. Naïve and at the same time manipulative, she understands how to get what she wants. They meet when Debs rents the upstairs apartment in Ditch’s house. Ditch is instantly put under Debs’ spell, and he welcomes her as a distraction to his otherwise mundane existence. The fact that she uploads porn shots of herself in the bathtub onto the Web and is desperate to contact “Daddy”

The Crackster Outlaw Productions 1996

The contemporary porn industry, as a slick, ultra-professional Internet and video/DVD-based mega-money machine, seems light years away from the quaint “adult films” of the “Golden Age of Porn” when serious feature movies were not only shot in glorious 35mmm FILM, but were also released into actual movie THEATRES. In fact, the core metaphor of Paul Thomas Anderson’s Boogie Nights (1997) was the schism of film vs. video dramatically illustrated by a tragic 1979/80 New Year’s Eve party which culturally forked those symbolic decades. Yet amidst the proliferation of modern porn stars with their clever porn names, the vanguard porn actors of the 70’s and 80’s maintain a surprisingly strong

doesn’t seem to phase him. Ditch proceeds to empty his bank account and runs away with Debs on a purposeless quest in the stolen work van. Their goal is to get to a destination that Niedzviecki relays “isn’t real”. This is indicative of Debs and Ditch … aimless and stuck uncomfortably in the present, unable to make sense of their pasts and incapable of understanding how to travel forward. The mini-chapters in the form of diary entries and emails provide a feeling of quick-tempo urban life. Wordy this novel is not. The spare style which Niedzviecki incorporates allows the characters he meticulously builds to speak for themselves. What they say isn’t much, but the meaning conveyed is profound. Ditch is a creepy, alarming and sad portrait of a lost portion of the so-called ‘slacker’ generation — worth a read, if only to make you feel better about your own existence. Caroline Manuel Lie With Me Tamara Faith Berger Gutter Press ($18.95 pb) Finally, bedtime reading everyone at The Nerve can enjoy! Berger’s wet, wank-a-lot tale is slowly making the one-handed rounds of the editorial staff here, and so far the consensus is muy caliente! The story hints at an emotional journey with a few interspersed quotes from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, but the anonymous narrator mostly just sluts her way through as many one-night stands and back-alley fucks as she can in the space of this square-shaped little book. The image of our heroine’s moist cunt lips sticking to the vinyl barstool as she enjoys the feeling of being out at a bar in a miniskirt with no panties is a memorable one, to say the least. A few chapters give us the respective fuckee’s points of view, and it crosses your mind that this poor lass might have a few storage lockers full of personal baggage stashed away somewhere. We all know a chick like this… some people try to save her from herself, while still others take full advantage of her rough-and-ready fuckability. They deserve what they get (whether that’s shoe-fucking or the old ‘chokey-pokey’). Berger lets our girl her do her thing and find her own answers in the feeling of obscurity that lies at the heart of the ultimate act of intimacy. How much degradation is too much? Every slut has a few boundaries, but that’s for us to know and the rest of the world to find out. The moral of the story, if there is one? “To fuck is human … to forgive, divine”. Or maybe “kink is in the bedroom of the beholder.” Share this book with your friends, but unless you have some kind of protective plastic sleeve to cover it, don’t expect to get it back in pristine condition. Think of it as a ‘DNA collection aid’. At 122 pages, it’s short enough that your arm probably won’t even get tired.

presence to this day. Everyone knows who Ron Jeremy is – but did you know his first film fuck (FFF) was in 1979? Marilyn Chambers? Her first starring role was Behind The Green Door (1971). While some of these old warhorses just gamely keep on fuckin’ on film (read: video) well into their 40’s, many others have moved into directing. Key players on this front are John Leslie (FFF ’74), Paul Thomas (FFF ’74), and Candida Royalle (FFF ‘75), all former porn actors who no longer perform on camera but have become ground-breakers of the porn industry behind the camera. A select few studs from this old guard have parlayed their ’legend’ status into marquee value, placing their name above the title as only the most successful (read: money-making) Hollywood players can. Peter North (FFF ‘82) has produced 19 volumes of his North Pole series, while Tom Byron (FFF ’83) has piloted three separate series under his name - Whack Attack, Planet of the Gapes, and Cumback Pussy. The oldest and most successful is clearly Randy West (FFF ’79), who, as of 2000, had reached number 89 in his ongoing Up and Cummers series. A late entry into this ’marquee’ genre is William Margold’s The Crackster (Vol. 1) (1996). Margold (FFF ’74) is an actor from the Golden Age who also functions as self-appointed spokesperson for the porn industry and advocate of its performers (if you caught the documentary Bad Girl at this year’s VIFF, you would have seen the 58 year-old Margold deliver

the line that “no-one ever died from an overdose of pornography.”) While never a household name, he evidently has enough rep as a porn movie ass-man and purveyor of the perverse to nail the role of the old Crackster. The title The Crackster hit my funny bone in a big way, but that alone wouldn’t have motivated any of my other bones to rent it. Reached at his L.A. home, Margold told me that The Crackster “did remarkably well.” He added, “my only regret is that I wasn’t dirty looking enough. I should have worn broken glasses and been more scruffy.” The appeal of the film? With the aid of a selection of phallic devices, the trenchcoated Crackster coaches various participants through some fairly intense anal workouts which leave the “female assholes” rather, uh, relaxed. As a sideshow to the main event, a porn starlet has her ass cast in latex. Though never jumping in on the action himself, Margold/ Crackster does eventually reach full wood status via self-stimming and manages an impressive money-shot into an empty glass...salut! On the subject of the shelf-life of The Crackster, Margold commented, “I had hoped to create a series of Crackster tapes, but funding fell through, so only one volume exists. However, I still have the trenchcoat and the boxer shorts.” No doubt at the ready in case there is a call for the services of “The Crackster” Dmidtrui Otis

It’s Raining Men

Visual Arts by Jason Ainsworth

Part 1

Painting shows are like cows … you can go out and look at them. The same with priests. They’re all over the place, if you know where to look (cows = farms / priests = seminaries / art shows = over yonder). Two of note this time. Let’s start with a jolly little ensemble that, of course, has now come down, so you can’t see it. It was at the Moonbase, but if you go to see it now you can’t, because it’s over. There’s something else there now. This one was called DUMBASS, a tandem show by two chaps working in unison, Kenn Sakurai and Dave O’Regan. I came to this show in a virgin state…what to expect? I expected nothing from a show dedicated to graphic work. “Graphic work” means prints, and all Modern Modernists think prints are démodé. I was as wrong as a woman priest, and I admit it. I thought this show was a ball. A mentally sound, witty and technically clever little appendage that had nothing at all against being funny. And it had the punters in tears, I swear to God. A wall filled with vicious and terribly charming post cards, which could be bought by anyone and brought home as a pleasant remembrance of one of the funnest debasements of the bad name of art I’ve ever seen. Then, over on the other wall, an interpretation of AC/ DC that was virgin sweet and so simple. This show was great like the catechism, and well worth catching…except that it’s over. But I swear to God above that you can still get the postcards at the Moonbase for so little money, Peter’s pence is all you’ll pay. So do it.

his Holiness, to safety. So, fuck, the Pope’s all, like, “thanks for the rescue, man … I mean it … shit, that was close, fuuuck…” And believe it or not, the lifeguard, Tex, he goes, “holy Father, I got me something to confess…” And the Pope is all, “no way! You just saved me, the Pope! What is this shit you’re talking?” And, this is the funny bit, the Lifeguard goes, “forgive me Father, for I have Swimmed!” That’s a

good one.

Another good one is the time when Diogenes or whoever from the Bible is walking down some street and he sees Sister Mary, a nun, and she’s smoking a cigarette — which isn’t uncatholic by the way, it’s allowed (Father Bumble says it’s a venial sin, but I never trust a priest like that) — ANYWAY, he goes up to Sister Mary and says, “Hey, I thought you quit smoking.” Guess what

she said! “I’m sorry, Padre, but it’s fuckin’ hard to break the HABIT!” Nuns wear habits!!

Part 3

Graffiti of the bi-month: Well, isn’t this a sorry state of affairs?

Part 2

This nostalgia thing was on display at the venerable Tart Gallery, and by Christ this show will still be up by the time this sees print. Post No Bills takes us to a gallery plastered like a gazebo with 400 musical posters, from last week to before most of you, statistically speaking, had even entered the world (through sin, coincidentally). The room was bathed in a holy glow, probably because of the white paper (refraction) (Diogenes) . A room full of memories for most everybody else with a few years under their belt or abs. Sad news, though… the Tart may be ending its tenancy on West 4th. Christ only knows what the scene will be with out it. As God as my witness, though, there is no suffering way in Hell that those Pop Tarts will let it die. Somehow it will continue, it must. It’s too depressing. I can’t continue without some en-Lightenment. So here are some of my favourite jokes (thanks Father Perez!) Okay, this is a good one. Our Father the Pope, his Holiness, is out fuckin’ swimming in the pool in Italy, okay, and I guess he’s no swimmer, because, Jesus, he’s a-spittin’ water, and shit, he’s drowning! And anyway, this lifeguard — Tex, or something — I guess he was good at swimming (and at Catholicking) ‘cause he jumps in and gets the Pope,

Graffiti artists are worse than criminals, as we can all hopefully agree (fucken fuckers). Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of seeing this beauty right on the wall of Our Lady of the Sacred Blood in Coquitlam. Still, let’s take a rational, sciento-critical approach to this image, and let’s have a closer look at what makes our artistically deviant Father Gary tick! The image was inked in red, which is the colour of blood, the devil, and Hallowe’en, so I think it’s safe to say that Father Gary may be questioning his vocation. The fact that he spray-painted his name on the wall of his own parish shows a sad lust for material fame in the secular world, no fuckin’ doubt about it. I mean, the man’s a priest, for God’s sake. And look at those hard, confident downward strokes. It’s time for Father Gary to strip off the cassock and flounce his self back into the secular world. Father Gary JOHNSTONE, my old friend, you’ve just fucked your way out of a promising career in the church. This is where urban-style rap music gets you. Fucked.

ainsworth@thenerveonline.com