The Nerve Magazine - April 2006 by The Nerve Magazine

The Nerve April 2006 Page

THE FACES

BO DIDDLEY

CONTENTS

IAN McLAGAN - 11

The former Face on Ronnie Lane and how to get bladdered on American beer

ROKY ERICKSON - 13

Director Keven McAlester discusses You’re Gonna Miss Me

DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE - 16 LIVING THINGS - 16 Producer Keith Schieron on the long road to We Jam Econo EDITORS - 16 DUNGEN - 22 PAUL WILLIAMS - 15 Little Hamm loves Little Enos THE COUP - 16 ADVANTAGE - 23 BO DIDDLEY - 18 We take a call from the Grandfather of Rock ‘n’ Roll! WRECKLESS ERIC AND HARD-Fi - 19 BIG SMASH - 7 Drug Confessions! ROBOSEXUALS - 25 CRASH: SMASH OR TRASH? - 35 Cheap Shotz - 7 WRECKLESS ERIC - 7 Toronto - 26 THE DOERS - 25 Albums - 30 BIG JOHN BATES - 25 Live - 29 BLACK LIPS - 9 DVD - 33 THE ANTICS - 26 Film - 34 FROM FICTION - 26 Ainsworth - 37 MR. PLOW - 27 FOSTER CARE - 27 Fiction / C.C. Rose - 37

THE MINUTEMEN - 12

Skate - 36 Books - 36 Comics - 38 Crossword - 38 THE NERVE

508 - 825 Granville St., Vancouver, B.C. V6Z 1K9 604.734.1611 www.thenervemagazine.com / info@thenervemagazine.com The Don (a/k/a Editor-In-Chief and Publisher) Bradley C. Damsgaard editor@thenervemagazine.com Pistol Whipper (a/k/a Music Editor) Adrian Mack mack@thenervemagazine.com Shotgun (a/k/a Film Editor) Michael Mann mann@thenervemagazine.com Map and Details (a/k/a Skate Shreditors) D-Rock and Miss Kim Launderer (a/k/a Book Editor) Devon Cody cody@thenervemagazine.com

The Henchmen (a/k/a Design & Graphics) Dale De Ruiter Weapons Cleaner (a/k/a Article Editor) Jon Azpiri, Sean Law Surveillance Team (a/k/a Photographers) Laura Murray, Jeremy Van Nieuwkerk, Miss Toby Marie The Muscle (a/k/a Staff Writers) Jason Ainsworth, Cowboy TexAss, Chris Walter, Jason Schreurs, Adam Simpkins, Therese Lanz, Carl Spackler, David Bertrand, Herman Menervemanana, Sean Law, Phil Heidenreich, Ferdy Belland, Dave Von Bentley, Devon Cody, Dale De Ruiter, Derek Bolen, Tony Newton, Andrew Molloy, Boy Howdy Plaster Caster (a/k/a Cover Design) Miss Toby Marie Fire Insurance (a/k/a Advertising) Brad Damsgaard advertise@thenervemagazine.com

The Kid (a/k/a The Intern) Kristy Sutor Out-of-town Connections (a/k/a Distro and Street Team) Toronto: Rosina Tassone Calgary: Mike Taylor Edmonton: Freecloud Records, Shauna Sirockman Winnipeg: Margo Voncook Whitehorse: Jordi and Jeremy Jones Victoria/Whistler: Jono Jak, Lindsay Seattle/Bellingham: Frank Yahr The Nerve is published monthly by The Nerve Magazine Ltd. The opinions expressed by the writers and artists do not necessarily reflect those of The Nerve Magazine or its editors. The Nerve does not accept responsibility for content in advertisements. The Nerve reserves the right to refuse any advertisement or submission and accepts no responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts or artwork. All content © Copyright The Nerve Magazine 2006. Est. 1999

The Nerve April 2006 Page

CONTENTS

A Very Starring SpecialWreckless Cheap Shotz Eric and Big Smash! I

t’s only taken six long, dreadful years, but The Nerve’s publisher Brad Damsgaard has finally gotten his beloved Faces on the cover of his own magazine. It’s not for lack of trying, it’s just that there was never an appropriate moment until now: from April 20th - 25th, Vancouver’s Pacific Cinematheque will be presenting Big Smash, a festival of Music-on-Film curated by The Nerve’s old buddy Kier-La Janisse. Among the films receiving their Vancouver premiere is The Passing Show; a heartfelt documentary on the life and death of the Faces’ Ronnie Lane, which we discuss with none other than Ronnie’s longtime band mate Mr. Ian McLagan. Also included in our festival preview: director Keven McAlester tells us about the making of his incredible Roky Erickson documentary You’re Gonna Miss Me, while Roky’s brother Sumner adds his perspective. Elsewhere, producer Keith Schieron talks about We Jam Econo – The Story of the Minutemen, while Robert Dayton celebrates the screening of Brian De Palma’s still mind-blowing satire of ‘70s rock excess and corruption The Phantom of the Paradise – not to mention the screening of Jim Henson’s still mind-blowing satire of ‘70s rock excess and corruption The Muppet Movie – with legendary songwriter Paul Williams. Check out www.bigsmash.com for more details on this extravaganza, which also includes fine cinematic contemplations of subjects as far-ranging and essential as Nina Simone, Albert Ayler, Joe Strummer, Esquivel, and Daniel Johnson, not to mention the unbelievable Stunt Rock, a movie about a retarded German gentleman who has spent a good part of his life pretending to be the Beatles, an evening built around the much-discussed, never-seen ‘punk’ episode of Quincy with Jack Klugman, a screeing of Peter Watkin’s exceedingly rare Privilege, and much, much more. Of course, Big Smash also happens to be the title of an underappreciated 1980 album on Stiff Records by England’s Wreckless Eric. Eric is perhaps best known to Nerve readers as the force behind the Len Bright Combo, a basement-fi three-piece that included the Milkshakes’ rhythm section. They took a fabulously nasty sonic dump on the worst decade ever (the ‘80s, bitch). Or perhaps you know Eric from his killer 1977 hit “Whole Wide World”,

which featured Ian Dury on drums and Nick Lowe on just about everything else; a song which was voted the second best Stiff single of all time by the listeners of BBC Radio. Eric evidently disagrees with this assessment, incidentally, feeling that “Whole Wide World” is much better than their #1 pick - “Alison” by Elvis Costello. Eric’s opinions on most things can be found on his insanely entertaining website, wrecklesseric.com, where he also tends to call a lot of people “aresholes”, “idiots”, and “fucking cunts” – as if he’s Derek and Clive rolled into one foulmouthed little man. Obviously, it was with some trepidation that I called Eric to discuss his forthcoming appearance at the Railway Club on April 23rd, as a special guest of the Big Smash Festival (Here is an opportunity I didn’t expect to see in my lifetime. Wreckless Eric at the fucking Railway in Vancouver. What next? Jilted John?). Luckily, he was highly amused to learn that I grew up in a shitty town in the north of England called Grimsby, and he does a bang on impression of the accent. Not bad for a bloody southerner. Nerve: If I get any of my facts wrong, will you call me a stupid fucking cunt on your website? Eric: No, I wouldn’t call you that. I reserve that for people that have really upset me. I could review your article, if you like. A lot of people just write articles about me so they can get a review. Amongst journalists now there’s a lot of kudos in having a review of their review, on my site. It’s something that journalist strive for. Nerve: I prefer it when people don’t read my articles. Eric: I actually have a backlog of the reviews of the reviews to do… You’re nobody until I’ve reviewed your review. Nerve: I noticed that you let Mojo off the hook. Did they get everything right? Eric: No, I just haven’t got round to it yet. I had a great article last week in the Chicago Reader. It sort of got some of it right. You know what it’s like. There’s an awful lot of stuff where you just read what they’ve written and it just doesn’t make any sense at all. Nerve: Well, writing about music is bullshit.

Eric: It’s difficult. When I write on my site, I’m either gushing with praise, or I’m slagging them off – did you read what I wrote about Coldplay? If you look in the recent archive, it’s in a thing called “Make Wealth History”. It’s about Live 8, and what a lot of shit it was. Read my article. Chris Martin gets a mention. Nerve: Do you like Coldplay’s music? Eric: I actually want to do a record under the name Coldsick, and call the record A Rush of Vomit to the Throat. Does that answer the question? Nerve: There’s a lot of excitement about the show. Have you played in Vancouver before? Eric: I have. My first U.S. tour – I came over to America in ’78 – to play in New York, and then came back in ’79 to do a tour and we actually started in Vancouver. Nerve: Who were you touring with? Eric: Well, it was me, and I had a band, and the first show was in Vancouver. And the support band was the Pointed Sticks.

“I actually want to do a record under the name Coldsick, and call the record A Rush of Vomit to the Throat.”

Nerve: Who were on Stiff! For a minute! Eric: That’s right, yeah. Nerve: They got stiffed by Stiff. Eric: Well, didn’t everybody! Nerve: Did you like them? Eric: Well, I think they only made one single or something, and actually, to be quite honest, I can’t remember it at the moment. It was a strange show. It was some big hall somewhere. People were throwing cans and stuff like that at us. We didn’t like that. Nerve: You published your autobiography in 2003, A Dysfunctional Success. Have you considered reviewing your autobiography on wrecklesseric.com? And then correcting it? Eric: I could do that actually. It’s an idea. Nerve: Were you disappointed when you read your own book? Did you think to yourself, ‘This stupid fucking cunt got a lot of it wrong’? Eric: No, no. I knew it was me. It was the most weird thing. Having your first record out – that’s something. But when they sent me copies of the book, by express post, and I opened it up, and there it was – it was my book. And I sat there. I sat on the sofa at my house and I’m just holding the book in my hands, and I was just shocked. I mean, you see books all the time, but to have a book that you’ve written… I couldn’t believe it. There’s misprints here and there, and there’s a couple words they cut out because it might cause offence, and they made things make no sense. Nerve: What words? Eric: Well, they kept the word ‘cunt’ in, but they took the word ‘retard’ out. But everyone says it sounds like I’m talking to them. They can hear my voice in it, so I think that’s a good thing. Nerve: I’m only gonna ask you one question about Stiff. Eric: That’s alright. You can ask me any questions about Stiff. Nerve: Alright. What was it like being on the same label as Alvin Stardust? It was quite a strange roster they had. Eric: It was in the end, but at the beginning it was a different kind of vibe. I like the early Stiff records – I like the sound of them – I still do. I listened to them all when I was writing the book, I listened to loads and loads of records to remember what was going on, because I could always remember it by the

r e cords, and I was struck by how good the early Stiff records sounded. I think they lost it. Even Madness, a lot of their records, the production sounds so bland somehow. I mean, I could never stand the Belle Stars. I never saw the sense in that, but I know that Alvin Stardust – that sounded great that record. And because of the animosity with Stiff, I felt almost like a traitor for liking it. The whole idea was to sell a label, but you know, great labels have a sound. Tamla had a sound. Stax had a sound. You knew the sound of a Stax record. Other labels sold their artists, but Stiff was going on selling the label. But what was the label, in the end? What was its identity? It didn’t have one. Nerve: What was the one that got away? Eric: I think the great classic lost record was “Yankee Wheels” by Jane Aire and the Belvederes. I was playing in Akron, Ohio last night and I met the people that played on “Yankee Wheels”. They were telling me how they did it. I couldn’t believe what they recorded it on. They recorded it on a quarter inch TEAC 3440, and they mastered it on a domestic 4-track tape recorder. Nerve: You’ve described Nick Lowe as a hero… Eric: Every few years we bump into each other. The last time I saw him, he was playing in a bookshop and Glen Matlock came along to see him as well, so there was me and Nick Lowe and Glen Matlock all having a chat. What

about that! I saw Chrissie Hynde recently and she told me he’s become a father for the first time, and he loves it. Nerve: Larry Wallis. Eric: Yeah – haven’t seen him for years. Nerve: How crazy was Larry Wallis? Who was the craziest on the legendary Stiff tour? Eric: I don’t know who was the craziest. I remember walking into a hotel, in God knows what kind of drunken state, and I walked into this TV room, and it was full of Chinese men, all sitting there with their arms folded watching the telly, the sound was hardly on, but there was this snoring noise, and it was Larry. He was asleep under the TV table. All you could hear was Larry snoring. Nerve: I guess your memories of that tour are not so vivid? Eric: They are in part. It was a strange business, you know – it changed everybody, and I don’t think for the better. We all became quite unpleasant in one way or another. I started to go out of control. I was drinking an awful lot, and it was not good. Ian Dury became a monster. I can remember seeing him walk on stage one night and thinking, I don’t know him anymore. We was always friends, right up to the very end. I did all his last dates in the UK. I opened for him. It was great. We were working together again. Nerve: I wanted to ask about the part in the amazing “33s & 45s” - from Bungalow Hi (2004) - where it turns into “Get it On” by T-Rex. Eric: It does, doesn’t it? It’s a bit “Get it On”, it’s a bit “Little Queenie” but that’s where “Get it On” comes from - “Little Queenie” by Chuck Berry. Oh yes – I done that riff with Two Lone Swordsmen, which is Andrew Weatherall. I’ve been playing with them. Every time I get the chance to do the T-Rex riff, I’ll stick it in there. So my name for the Two Lone Swordsmen, apparently they’re putting me down on the album as ‘Trex Riff.’ Nerve: The feel of the song changes a little bit. It’s weird. Eric: I never worry about that kind of thing. It’s biological to me. When I do it live, I do it with an acoustic guitar… Nerve: And you’re coming to the Railway Club. It’s a great venue. Eric: Will people shut up and listen? Nerve: It could go either way. Eric: Yeah. That’s the thing that always bothers me. Music has been so devalued, you go buy a pair of shoes – you got music. You want to do your shopping – you get music. You try to buy a railway ticket, they put you on hold – you hear music. It’s become meaningless. Once people are presented with music – and they pay money to come in – then they just stand there talking to each other, and I can’t stand that. It’s like going to your grandmother’s house and stubbing a cigarette out on the carpet. People are so fucking dead, their ears are so dead that they can’t hear the noise they’re making. Music was still something people listened to 30 years ago, but… people talk about ‘the soundtrack of my life’, which they carry around with them on a fucking iPod. They’re not listening. They’ve reached saturation point with it. It’s very difficult to come through when you play live. I fucking tell them to shut up. Nerve: The character in “33s & 45s” cares deeply about his music, his records. Eric: The character in it is me. People think it’s about chronicling a break-up, and it’s just about splitting the record collection up, but it’s not. It’s this thing – any time that anything traumatic goes on, I go back to my reference, which is the music. It’s what shaped my life, so I’ll go back and listen to stuff, and I work backwards and forwards through it, I suppose. They’re iconic objects. What I love about records is they create a physical vibration. There’s something different about that. CDs are very hard to love. You can love what’s on it, but the actual object will never represent anything. It’ll never become a talisman. A record would. Nerve: Not to mention the artwork. Eric: Like I say, “I look at CD artwork through scratchy, gray plastic,” in a song called “Same”. It’s a very psychotic song, in its way. You grew up in Grimsby, so I suppose you can understand. - Adrian Mack

The Nerve April 2006 Page

CONTENTS

The Black Lips They Pee on Things By Tony Newton

do that. I wish I had some right now. We just go into vulture mode.” Vulture mode? “Yeah, sometimes you gotta go into vulture mode to survive on tour. We haven’t had to do that in awhile, but we’ve had to pool our little schemes. Sometimes we didn’t eat, and we had to sleep in the van a lot, but I don’t think we coulda lasted too long doing that.” The band has a reputation for chaos, being cited for intense live performances and fucked up stage antics that lead to occasional banishments by intolerant promoters. “Fireworks,” explains Jared. “Or fire. Setting off fire extinguishers. Most of the time we get in trouble because of the crowd, who, uhh, does bad things. I don’t know whether it has anything to do with the music, or it’s just what they thought they could get away with because that’s, like, expected or something. I think it’s like you get a mob mentality and then one thing leads to another. But, umm, especially if a club thinks you’re gonna… well, if they’ve heard anything about it before you come, they’re already expecting something so they’re all pumped up.“ “I’ve heard about the peeing,” I state. “We peed on some stuff,” Jared admits. “What did you pee on?” “Cole peed in his mouth, and then, like, on the managers and stuff.” “Is that a regular thing?” “Sometimes. It just depends.” Juvenile delinquency and rock ‘n’ roll are still best friends. You can catch the Black Lips spreading the love April 2nd at Richard’s on Richards, opening for the Dirtbombs. n

“We peed on some stuff”

PHOTO: DANNY HOLE

here is a strange joyful sadness that permeates the Black Lips and their tin can garage rock. It screams like a juvenile greaser in a knife fight, making love to a hippie on a skateboard. This band survived the futile death of a founding member, and they still sound truthful, and youthful. That’s talent. The Black Lips might be rock ‘n’ roll naturals. At first you’ll compare them to the Stooges, Rolling Stones, maybe Swell Maps (and the legions of innovators and copycats that ensued). You’ll absorb the new album Let it Bloom – their third - clench your fists in joy and realize you don’t give a shit about comparisons, you’ve just remembered why you love rock ‘n’ roll in the first place - because it’s so damn familiar. The Atlanta-based fourpiece labels its traditional ‘60s garage rock sound “flower punk”. “It’s because, uh, flowers are too wimpy, so you need something to counter it off - something psychedelic or something,” jokes bassist Jared Swilley, from his Hayes, Kansas motel room, where the band has stopped for some downtime by the pool. He slowly explains in a laid back drawl that they “don’t usually get hotels or anything, we usually get couches.” The Black Lips make due with what they have, since no one in the band holds a real job - other than gigging. Swilley tells me about on-the-road survival strategies. “In the beginning it was pretty tough to eat. We used to have to go to homeless shelters, and like beg for food ‘n shit. But now we’ve done it enough to where we can survive and maintain ourselves. I mean, there’s lots of restaurants you go to that will throw away food, and you could

The Nerve April 2006 Page

I a c P m s b f a h n w M b f A t S

N p M N M t N M D n i p a i A t h e N m “ s M b h R L o i s w N n M w t m o H t o l p o s fl s B s h “ w l a I b N i M i b d m N h M

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Plonk!

CONTENTS

Remembering the Heart of the Faces

Nerve: I got sent a copy of the documentary, popped it in and poured a Guinness. Mac: There you go! Nerve: It’s just great. Mac: They did a beautiful job. The passion shows through. Nerve: Has it been released anywhere? Mac: No, but Rhino is putting it out and a Faces DVD. And on the 1st, which would’ve been Ronnie’s 60th birthday, I’m releasing an album which is called Spiritual Boy, which is 10 of his songs performed by my band here in my studio - an absolute labour of love. Ronnie was kind of looking over my shoulder for the whole project I think. And it’s 11 songs total because there’s one song that I put on the end, which I wrote for it, about him, and I’m releasing that on his birthday. So I’m expecting big things for Ronnie this year. Nerve: I think the thing that surprised me the most in the movie was how Ronnie went from “Three Piece”, as you guys called him, to a sort of pirate in the woods. Mac: It had a lot to do with Kate who eventually became his wife. She was very much a gypsy in her ways. And when he was feeling unhappy with Rod and the band, he would tour with her in his Land Rover, instead of coming in the limousine, or whatever. The poor fucker, he would’ve stayed in the Faces if he could have at least sung one song live, but Rod never considered it. And as he was the main songwriter, he just had to leave. Nerve: There must have been some bitterness. Mac: I didn’t realize it at the time. It was only when I was putting the Faces box set together that it became obvious, because I just thought - out of interest - I want to see who wrote the most songs. I figured it might be Rod, or Woody, or Ronnie, but it was Ronnie by far and away. He was the most prolific songwriter. And the as the albums went on, there were more and more of his songs and he never got to do any of them live. After “Ooh La La” he must have been so pissed off. He said to me, “I’m leaving the group” one night and I laughed, because that was our standard group statement. It was if the beer was flat or, you know, my socks were inside out. Any stupid thing and we’d go, “I’m leaving the group.” But when he said it, I said, “Oh fuck off,” and he said, “No, I’ve had it. I’m leaving the group.” And he said, “Why don’t you come with me?” I said, “But Ronnie, I’m in the band I want to be in. I want you to be in the band. I don’t want you to leave.” But he had made his mind up. Actually we argued that night. And I kicked him off the stage. I was upset to see him go because he was my buddy. He was my brother. Nerve: Did you know at the time how great it was? Mac: Well, I knew how great it was and how great it could be, but unfortunately we were starting to be billed as Rod Stewart and the Faces, and I didn’t like that. As soon as I saw that I fired our manager. Nerve: I read a story that you hit him in the head with a beer bottle. Mac: No, no, no, I’ve never hit anybody in the

By Carl Spackler

head with a beer bottle. I’ve heart. He wrote with me, he wrote with Woody, drunk a lot of beer, and I did he wrote with Rod occasionally too, he was the have an altercation with somecore of the band. And without him it was like Rod body with a painting on their and Woody songs, and I was blown out, and head. That was a different thing. Kenny was blown out, and it was all about Rod. But no, I never hit any manager They were very happy times when Ronnie was yet. I’m waiting for that opportuaround. nity. Nerve: You guys used to trash hotel rooms Nerve: There’s still time left after booking them under the name Fleeton the clock. wood Mac. Mac: I mean, if I ever get to see Mac: We got banned from the Holiday Inn chain Don Arden, Small Faces managbecause… damage occurred. It tended to haper, I’d hit him. I’d run across the pen. So we went in as Fleetwood Mac and evenroom to smack him really hard. tually we got Fleetwood Mac banned, and then But that’s not going to happen. we went in as Family, which, I don’t know why, Nerve: Was he a full on mobthey were all three bands that were on Warners I ster? think. And they began with ‘F’ so it was easy for Mac: No, he liked to believe he us to remember. We could’ve done Free. They was. But he employed heavies. There was an were on tour with us on one of them. occasion, he invited us up to the office for some Nerve: What happened to that train in Mireason, and he introduced us to this couple of ami? heavies standing there. And he said, “This is Mac: That was in Tucson, Arizona. It was a HoliMad Tom,” and Steve (Marriott) said, “Hello day Inn we stayed at and they had a miniature Tom,” and he grabbed Steve by the neck - by his train that went round. It was one of those two shirt - and pulled him up off the ground, and put story motels with the pool and everything and it his face close to his and said, “Mad Tom to you.” was quite a big affair. So they had this train. I And that was enough. We knew from there that don’t quite know what the point of it was. But we he wasn’t the mafia don like derailed it. We just pushed it he was pretending, but he had over. And we got banned. And “You know, he enough muscle, you know - we then, maybe six months later, could be hurt. we’re in the middle of a tour never, ever comNerve: Well, you weren’t the and we get to Tucson and we plained. I would biggest of blokes either. get there kind of on a day off, Mac: No have been moan- about five or six at night, and Nerve: Do you miss Steve? we had nothing - back then ing all the time if Mac: I do, he was a hard act we used to do a lot of drugs, to follow, and he was tough to you know - so we had nothing, I had 21 years of be with sometimes. But I loved and someone says, “You know that awful fucking what you can do with a can of him, of course. I pray to him. I give him a little nod sometimes, beer?” You should try this yourdisease.” when I close the show with self. Get a 12 oz. can of beer, “What’Cha Gonna Do About It”. and American beer, let’s face it, Nerve: What did you think of Humble Pie? it’s not worth drinking, I mean there’s only CanaMac: Not much really. I never saw them live or dian and Mexican - I don’t know why they can’t anything. I’m sure they were good. I mean, Steve get it right in the middle. You guys got it, Mexico’s was great. But Steve was getting less and less got it, I don’t drink American beer. So you get a subtle - let’s put it that way - in his singing. And 12 oz. can, and if you want to get really drunk rehe used to be so great. And it ended up he was ally quickly, get a shot glass each, and you pour kind of bellowing a lot more. He was so talented. a shot, which is an ounce, they say that in AmerA great guitarist. You know he was the Stone’s ica, I don’t know about Canada, you set your first choice for replacing Mick Taylor? Keith wantwatches and as soon as the second hand hits ed him in. But Mick couldn’t handle the competithe 12, you down tion on the vocals. Imagine that. the one ounce and Nerve: Getting back to Ronnie getting his it’s nothing, and due, the other thing that struck me was how then you fill your optimistic he was even though he had such a shot glass up and horrible disease. wait 60 seconds, Mac: You know, he never, ever complained. He and you do that 12 never pulled a sad face and moaned. I would times, and I swear have been moaning all the time if I had 21 years you’ll be feeling of that awful fucking disease. The only thing he’d the effects. It’s not say occasionally, you’d say, “How ya’ doing, like just drinking a Ron?” And he’d say, “I’m great.” And he’d say, 12 oz. can of beer. “Fucking disease,” like it was something else, As the first minute outside of him. Then he’d just go, “Oh well.” He goes, it just drags was resigned. I’m in my studio right now where on, second one it we recorded Spiritual Boy, and this is the only gets a little closer, room in the house that he made it into. He came eventually, you’re over for lunch and we tried to get him out of his laughing, you wheelchair. We tried to carry him up the steps can’t pour, you get up to the house and he kind of went all stiff and through two cans he was unmanageable, it was really weird, so of beer like that we decided to wheel him around into the studio - you’re wasted. which is on the ground floor. The house is up a It’s a cheap way few steps. So we had lunch in here and it was of getting high. beautiful because, cutting the album, he was in So anyways, we the room. His spirit was here, I reckon, and it’s did that and we the only room in the house that he’s been in. derailed the train Very fitting. Plus I have photographs of him all again. We realized around. I wanted to see him a lot. it was the same Nerve: When you guys were in the Faces hotel we had been - was that one of the funnest times in your banned from, so it life? was just like lambs Mac: Oh yeah. The end of the Faces were pretty to the slaughter. miserable after Ronnie left. It all went very fast We couldn’t resist. and it wasn’t very much fun really. We did what We had to go out we could. But the band was over really, once he there and shove it left, because there was no balance to Rod. He over again. was right in the middle of the band. He was the Nerve: Who PHOTO: TODD V. WOLFSON

trange, weird, and wonderful things happen in this world. One moment I’m riding a massive bummer of a hangover, and the next I receive an advance copy of The Passing Show, a new documentary about the funky little singer/songwriter Ronnie Lane, bass player in two of my all time favourite bands – Small Faces and the Faces. Twenty-four hours later, I’m drinking Guinness and chatting on the phone with Ronnie’s blood brother Ian McLagan, keyboard player for both those bands. Turns out the former Londoner, now living in Austin, Texas, is a helluva great guy. Life is funny that way. Check out The Passing Show at Big Smash, April 23rd.

would usually lead the trouble? Mac: Well, any one of us at a given time, but Rod would kind of be the instigator. It was just pranks. We were so bored with being on the road. The gigs were all we were about. There’d be girls, and there’d be drugs, and you were just in Holiday Inns, you were on a plane with lots of businessmen staring at you. We did commercial airlines, and we were in vans, and dressing rooms, and then the stage – and that was great. And then afterwards, back to the Holiday Inn, to the bar, the girls, the plane, whatever. And you’d be in the same room. The Holiday Inns back then, they were identical. So you just have to hurt a room every now and again. Just to show who was the boss. Nerve: Do you think there’s any unknown little Lane’s or little Woodies running around the US? Has anyone ever strolled up and said, “Daddy?” Mac: It would never surprise me. But I’m 60 now. I’m sure my naughty days ended in the middle ‘70s. I’m sure they would’ve come up and said hello by now. The thing is we never used condoms. Never had a condom. Nerve: You must’ve had a few visits to the doctor then for the, uh, drippy dink. Mac: [Morosely] That’s unfortunately true. Nerve: What about playing together again? Is there any chance, I know Ronnie’s not around but have you guys… Mac: Rod was so pleased with the box set, and he tells me all the time he wants to do it, but he’s lying. Him and his manager both say they want to do it, and I tell them, “No you don’t.” Unfortunately, this is the spot where I drunkenly kicked the plug outta the tape deck, so all of Mac’s quotes about Rod were lost. I can tell you the he called Rod’s American Songbook series, “Bloody awful,” claims that Rod is driving his real fans away, and has told Rod that much to his face. He also told me that Rod makes him change the keys to many of the Faces classics when they play together live, “And that ain’t very rock ‘n’ roll.” He also told me a fuckin’ hilarious Ronnie Wood story, which I will repeat to you for the price of one shot of tequila - the good stuff, no silver shit – next time I’m holding court at the Morrissey. n

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CONTENTS

History Lesson

The Minutemen and We Jam Econo

By Boy Howdy

e Jam Econo, Tim Irwin and Keith Schieron’s heartfelt documentary about “three fucking corndogs” from Pedro is making the rounds of film festivals and review houses this summer. The film takes us back to a simple, courageous time and concentrates on the very close bond between Mike Watt, D. Boon, and the criminally underrated George Hurley. The filmmakers do a fantastic job relaying the band’s convictions, idealism, humour and determination, via archival footage, interviews with the players themselves and with several key contemporaries from the altmusic scene of the late ‘70s through to the mid-80s, plus contributions from family, friends, and some key inspirational figures from the band’s early stages. If you really wanna know from someone old enough to remember, I think that the Minutemen, more than any other hardcore band, epitomized the free-thinking independent ideals that formed the core of punk/ alternative music. These cats were fiercely eclectic and politically revolutionary. They managed to evolve and reinvent - never staying in one place too long. They moved from punk to free jazz to funk to folk at a blinding speed – teaching, pioneering, fighting, and fusing the entire way. They really were something special. The film itself is as lean, fractured, and urgent as the band was. We Jam Econo offers the viewer a loving look at not only a great outfit, but at the way their sound and fury was assembled, and how that sound eventually progressed. Starting completely from scratch (hilarious commentaries in the film detail how they didn’t even know they had to TUNE their instruments, at first. Watt thought a bass was just a guitar with four strings) the Minutemen are seen burning an indelible path and style, as they became both an inspiration and influence on up-and-coming acts and their peers alike. The film also takes a journey through Pedro, accompanied by Watt, who reflects on various “Minutemen landmarks” in a fascinating tour-spiel. We see the park where Watt first met D. Boon as a 13 year-old, when Boon fell out of a tree and landed on him. We see the place they bought their T Rex records and the PetCo. which used to be the music store where they purchased their first instruments. We also catch an intimate glimpse of the loving way their families supported and pushed them into broadening their horizons through artistic and musical endeavours, and the sheer reverence in which they are held by contemporaries and friends. Producer Schieron is evidently possessed by a similar ethic and drive as his subject matter, and he describes the impetus of his and Irwin’s quest to do this documentary as a parallel journey: his via the album he bought when he was 16 - The Punch Line - and Irwin’s via a skate flick soundtrack featuring the Minutemen that he happened to hear on THE SAME FREAKIN’ DAY, but at different places with different people and under different circumstances. The two hooked up later. “We started talking then,” recalls Schieron, in a phone call to The Nerve. “In a kind of 16-year-old’s fantasy way, in these pre-internet days, about who these guys were and how big were they?” Reading his brother’s back issues of Spin helped Schieron better understand the Mike Watt mantra, “Go paint your own picture, go start your own band, go write your own story!” Taking that advice to heart, the two teenagers immediately decided it was their calling to document the Minutemen at any and all cost. Fastforward 10 years, the two friends have reconnected and discover that their passion is undiminished - they decided to finally make their film happen. “We wanted to showcase how inspiring they were to us,” Schieron explains. “And hopefully that story of how inspiring they were would cause people to get excited again… We decided on that pretty early on as a goal.” This passion actually manifested itself in the form of a young lady who approached Schieron after a screening of We Jam Econo, telling him that the film had inspired her to go and jam that very evening! A warmth radiates through the movie whenever someone talks about the band. It‘s like the interviewees are proud to be a part of this historic retelling of a

working class story. Keith mentions that they hoped to get 14 interviews initially, but a buzz around the project led to considerably more. Ian McKaye, Dez Cadena, Joe Baiza (Saccharine Trust), Richard Meltzer, John Doe, even Watt’s mom – they’re all in there. On more than one occasion you see people choking back the tears, usually when conversation turns to the topic of Boon’s premature death in a car wreck in December of 1985. “Interestingly enough,” says Schieron, ”We asked each interviewee, do they remember when they heard that D. Boon died? How did they find out? And I would say that the large majority of them, probably about 10 of them or so, actually started crying… You know, these were beautiful, beautiful moments, and we could not think of how to get these beautiful genuine emotions into the film - it felt a little bit exploitive. These people had been so good to us, we did not really want to exploit these very personal moments that helped us, as filmmakers, better understand the impact that these guys had, not only as a band, but how they impacted people on a personal level… I mean, the friends of D. Boon, he was a huge part of their lives completely outside of music. He was a great friend above all!” Even the sound of their instrumentation is shown to have a back-story. Joe Biaza demonstrates the shrill, biting guitar tone D. Boon preferred. The band’s decision to have the guitars as trebly as possible and bass deep and rich and rumbling is identified as a political statement; a component of an overall body politic that goes right back to their name. The militia Minutemen of the American colonies, all of them 25 years old or younger, were chosen for their enthusiasm, reliability and physical strength - they were the first to arrive or await a battle. The documentary illustrates this point through live excerpts, where the band performs its agit-punk as if their lives depended on getting the

positive friction between Boon and Watt - like George just sailed along and kinda had faith in himself and things never bothered him. In many ways he was kinda like the only person who could be the third person in this situation. Somebody else might’ve caused a lot of problems, you know, but George was just the perfect person!” Live concert footage wound into the film includes some crazy shit: a 1980 gig at the Starwood in L.A. was provided by legendary SST engineer SPOT, and the 9:30 Club footage came via a bootleg. A Bard College interview was supplied by its original source (Mike Ryan), and an Acoustic Lodge performance was originally from an L.A. cable access show, struck from Ian McKaye’s used VHS copy since the ¾ inch reel was decayed. The videos came from the video director’s own cuts! Schieron naturally adored the ‘treasure hunt’ aspect of his and Irwin’s work, and reflects on the advent of video: “It’s kind of a funny thing about the era if you think about it,” he says. “Camcorders - the ones like a family would buy with, you know, a VHS tape - did not hit the streets until 1983. So a band, to get taped before ’83 or even ’84, would have to play in some sort of studio or have to make some sort of quote/unquote professional shoot. So we started digging up these bootlegs of the Minutemen from late ’83, ’84 and ’85, and there was this huge gap where we didn’t have anything. And then SPOT pulls out this two-camera shoot from 1980, and that was the Minutemen’s first paid gig, and they were so young, and it was such an unbelievable thing to see them play the really early, early, early stuff, and even an unrecorded tune called “Art Analysis”. It was a real treasure to be able to find that!” The film has not always screened in a festival context like it will be in Vancouver. Schieron initially aimed for a more grassroots environment. In many cases the film’s brain trusts have had to turn down the festivals and theatre runs to make We Jam Econo more accessible to the fans who comprehend the “econo” part a bit better. “It’s been so inspiring,” Schieron says, “And we feel we’ve done the right thing as we have received so much positive feedback. What’s so cool - if you get into the whole story of Black Flag and the Minutemen and how they created this touring circuit of places to play live - the same thing happened with the film. It just grew very organically, and we’ve now screened at over 70 places, and I actually only pursued two of them!” June 27th is the date for the public release of the 2-DVD set of We Jam Econo on PlexiFilm. Schieron reveals, “Three of the concerts wound into the film will be shown in their entirety on the second disc. As will the interview on the grass (from 1985), and we’ve got a bunch of extras in there as well. We’ve got the videos and commentary from the video directors… And separate from that, we are going to put out a book. We’ve got hundreds of amazing photos, flyers, lyrics, and the whole film transcribed.” Schieron and Irwin’s original intentions might have been modest, but We Jam Econo has exceeded all expectations, and the young filmmaking team find themselves on a crazy ride. Jump on board at the Big Smash! Festival, here in Vancouver, on April 23.

“What’s so cool - if you get into the whole story of Black Flag and the Minutemen and how they created this touring circuit of places to play live - the same thing happened with the film.”

The Nerve April 2006 Page 12

songs out as quickly and fiercely as possible. I throw Keith a bit of a curve and ask him to describe the Minutemen using their own songs. He’s a bit taken aback, but reels in solid choices that make perfect sense to me. “Even though Watt wrote the lyrics, I think that ‘History Lesson, Pt. II’ is probably the title that is most appropriate to describe D. Boon,” he says. “Not only because of his broad understanding of history and the universe, but due to his understanding of his place in it.” And for Watt, “The song before it on Double Nickels, “My Heart in the Real World”, which I think is an unbelievable song that has some of my favourite lyrics of all time - I think it’s really appropriate for Watt because, you know, if you look at his lyrics, they’re just so unbelievable in so many ways, but they are also so personal. But it was like personal/political, and if they ever had a love song, that would be their one chance at a love song.” Before we discuss an appropriate song to describe Hurley, I sidebar with my own thoughts on how he really was the “forgotten” member of the equation and how I, as a fan and patron, loved the fact that the filmmakers paid tribute to what George Hurley brought to the group. The man, quite frankly, was a motherfucker of a drummer and a happy-go-lucky personality that really held the group together in more ways than we realize. The accolades are fast and furious from the interviewees, and the light-hearted personality of Hurley shines through in his own interview portions. “And for George,” Schieron continues, “I think the song on What Makes a Man Start Fires called “Faith/ East Wind”… The guy was such a total, absolute sweetheart, and he just blew with the breeze, like with everything else. With all the friction and stuff - the

“Our band could be your life Real names be proof Me and Mike Watt played for years Punk rock changed our lives We learned punk rock in Hollywood Drove up from Pedro We were fucking corndogs We’d go drink and pogo Mr Narrator This is Bob Dylan to me My story could be his songs I’m his soldier child Our band is scientist rock But I was E. Bloom, Richard Hell, Joe Strummer, and John Doe Me and Mike Watt, playing guitar.” - History Lesson, Pt. II n

CONTENTS

Two-Headed Dog! Two-Headed Dog! I’ve Been Working In The Kremlin With A Two-Headed Dog! By Jason Grimmer

he world likes a little madness with its art. It seems to mean something more if the artist is tormented. It’s a trip to the zoo for the privileged, a leper colony travelogue for the Great Washed Masses. No one likes to think they’re paying a millionaire for his work (except maybe the millions who continue to buy Rolling Stones albums - but wait! They’re functioning drug addicts and drug addiction is a sickness so I guess my theory holds up after all, thank you very much). Workout videos and clothes are different. People like to pay millionaires for that. Of course, no one actually wants to be the sick, poor, or mentally ill, but it is, for certain, a good conversation piece. It goes great with wine! Syd Barrett, Skip Spence, Brian Jones, Brian Wilson and Ian Curtis - these names tend to pop up in discussions of this type, but you can bet your last five bucks there are million others out there that don’t have the benefit of a record deal to keep ‘em in the public eye, or lend them credibility, so to speak. The difference between the stories of those aforementioned troubled troubadours and the story of Roky Erickson is that his might include that rarest of things… the distinct evidence of recovery… and redemption. Born 1947 in Texas the eldest of five boys, Roky (nee Roger) learned how to play piano at five years old and later, when he was 12, taught himself guitar. In 1964 he had a regional hit, “We Sell Soul”, with his first group, the Spades. Spotted by the soon-to-be-members of the13th Floor Elevators, he was persuaded to join them. Their first single, “You’re Gonna Miss Me” (a track previously recorded by the Spades) became a sizeable hit and the 1966 album it came from, The Psychedelic Sounds of the 13th Floor Elevators, became legendary. It’s currently regarded as one of the most important of the early “head” records, inspiring everyone from ZZ Top guitarist Billy Gibbons to R.E.M. to current propagators of the Texas-psych sound, the Gris-Gris. It was during his tenure in the Elevators the Roky first tried acid and ultimately (by some accounts) ended up indulging a bit too much. He was soon to be officially diagnosed with a form of schizophrenia. Sometime after releasing their next two records, Easter Everywhere (their best) and the unjustly maligned Bull of the Woods, Roky was apprehended by the police for possession of marijuana. It was his second arrest and rather than deal with a prison sentence, he chose to plead insanity. This choice would have severe re-

percussions for him as he ended up in Rusk State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, where he was administered electro-shock therapy and other “experimental treatments” on a regular basis. He was finally released in 1972. In 1974, Erickson formed Bleib Alien and cut a couple of singles for Doug Sahm - the Buddy Holly homage “Starry Eyes” and the hard-rock/nutso classic “Red Temple Prayer (Two-Headed Dog). Whatever lyrically subtlety he formerly had was now most certainly out the window. Songs about aliens, zombies, demons and… uh… two-headed dogs ruled the roost in Roky’s mind, and the recorded performances of these songs are among some of the finest in the history of outsider rock ‘n’ roll. Later, Bleib Alien morphed into Roky Erickson & the Aliens, and their 1981 album, The Evil One (produced by ex-CCR drummer Stu Cook), is nothing short of necessary. Roky continued along through the eighties, playing sporadically with different collaborators until eventually stopping altogether. His last album was 1995’s All That May Do My Rhyme, released on Butthole Surfer King Coffey’s label, Trance Syndicate. In 2000, fledgling documentary filmmaker Keven McAlester decided to try and tell the Roky Erickson story. “I grew up in Texas,” explains Keven. “I knew about Roky, and obviously knew about his music but was also really fascinated by him as a character. I really liked his music but wasn’t interested necessarily in making a concert film… Especially because he didn’t play anymore… So what drew me to his story was how this incredibly talented musician ended up in the situation we found him in when we started filming. That and his relationship with his mother.” The film Keven ended up with was titled You’re Gonna Miss Me (Big Smash, April 25), and Evelyn Erickson figures almost as large as her afflicted son. It’s tough to not feel compassion at first, given her plight as Roky’s caregiver. She seems to have the thankless job of nursemaid to a childlike adult with little of the wherewithal to deal with day to day life. When we first see Roky in the film, he’s overweight, his hair is messy and matted with a large dread forming. His nails are long and dirty. He lives alone and in a small apartment cluttered with gaudy toys, keyboards, pedals and amps (through which he blares white noise and electronic clatter as he watches television). Evelyn is seen in the background sweeping, trying halfheartedly to tidy up Roky’s apartment, seemingly a lost cause. As the film progresses

“What drew me to his story was how this incredibly talented musician ended up in the situation we found him in when we started filming. That and his relationship with his mother.”

we learn that she doesn’t believe in, nor urges Roky to take his prescribed medications. We see that she maintains a bizarre collage of her life in order to try find out what went wrong with her family. We learn that she recorded a single when she was younger, and we watch, dumb-founded, her homemade film starring an adult, obviously out-of-it Roky as “The King of the Beasts”. It becomes apparent very quickly, though Evelyn Erickson certainly loves her son, she may not be the best custodian. This fact becomes clearer when - in one of the few times he addresses the camera - Roky expresses his discontent with his living arrangements. It’s an important and heartbreaking sequence and it almost didn’t make it into the film. “The first 25 minutes of the movie you saw was what I originally planned the whole film to be about… focus on his past, who he was, and how he ended up in this situation we found him.” McAlester elaborates, “ There would be no forward motion to the present. I spent about a year editing it, and then I brought another, more experienced editor named Victor Livingston who went through all the footage and brought out several nuggets… and that was sort of the major one.” It’s an important scene because it’s where the film, unexpectedly, takes a turn towards the hopeful. Enter Sumner Erickson, Roky’s youngest brother (all of his brothers, but one, make appearances in the film), who decides to challenge his mother’s guardianship of Roky in court. He wins and gradually nurses him to some semblance of his former self. “That first scene,” confesses Sumner, “It just shocked me to my core… and I was there. I couldn’t believe how bad off this man was.” Sumner credits McAlester’s interest in Roky in spurring him to step in and try and improve his brother’s life. “It was astounding to be part of that,” he continues. “I always felt there was a Roky/Sumner relationship even though we didn’t know each other on a day to day basis… I banked on it. Before all of this I hardly knew Roky. I think he answered my phone calls twice in the ‘90s, and of course, I was devastatingly sad about him since I was a little kid visiting him at Rusk State Hospital.” Sumner moves Roky into his Pittsburgh apartment (their father lives next door but, aside from one short appearance, declined take part in the film), takes him to his therapist and nearly goes broke trying to help. He also established The Roger Kynard Erickson Trust to address Roky’s living expenses, medical bills, and other financial needs. Despite this, he commends both Roky (“I’m a huge

admirer of my brother but he’s also, so to speak, a bad-ass. Roky deserves number one credit, obviously, because he’s the one who got himself to where he is at the end of the film. I worked hard to give him those options but he could’ve said, ‘No’”) and his mother. “To my mom’s credit,” he says, “Whether she was giving Roky what he needed or not, the fact is she never quit trying.” You’re Gonna Miss Me ends with Roky playing a song to his brother and his therapist, and Sumner says Roky’s the best he’s been in 20 years. He’s living on his own once more, recently gotten his driver’s license back and is in charge of taking his own medication. By all accounts he’s happier and more independent than ever, and just as important, playing music again. Roky’s appeared at two South-By-Southwest conferences now with his newest band the Explosives, and though the plans aren’t immediate, Steven Van Zandt (of the E Street Band and Little Steven’s Garage) has expressed interest in bringing him to NYC for some shows. Hollywood has come calling and the script is almost done for a biopic (which Jack Black was briefly attached to). There’s also an upcoming guest appearance on a Mogwai (!) single, an authorized book on the 13th Floor Elevators, and reissues of his seminal work. And he’s looking better too. Relates Sumner, “Roky’s enjoying fantastic health. Sadly for others, he looks so much better than his old fans from that era.” This is certainly fantastic news for even the slightest fan of Roky’s work. Unlike many of his contemporaries, his songwriting hasn’t declined with age. Even though his mental health has improved, his love of the weird and otherworldly has not subsided. The chance to see Roky sing his own songs live would’ve been inconceivable five years ago, but now it exists as a possible reality. That’s what Roky’s best work always dealt with, after all: possible realities. Long may he continue to maneuver between them, with more ease, and without detriment. n

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CONTENTS

SWAN By Robert Dayton

s you may already know, Big Smash! is a six-day film festival devoted entirely to films about music happening at The Pacific Cinemateque in Vancouver. Monday, April 24th’s program features a special double bill of The Muppet Movie and Brian De Palma’s Phantom Of The Paradise, and - contain yourself - Paul Williams will be there in person! And my musical act July Fourth Toilet will be performing a musical tribute to Paul Williams after the movies that night at The Media Club. See www.bigsmash.com for further info. It was an honour to talk to songwriter, performer, actor and humanitarian Paul Williams about these two films, his work on the soundtrack for both The Muppet Movie and Phantom Of The Paradise, and his role as the devil(ish) Swan in the latter. With him being a great talk show veteran with plenty of charming stories to tell, and me being a fan, this interview had to be severely edited down for length. But fear not, gentle reader! It runs complete and unexpurgated at www.thenervemagazine.com Nerve: To me Phantom of the Paradise is the greatest glam rock musical of all time. It’s an amazing marriage of your music and De Palma’s film making. Williams: It’s a high point for me. There aren’t very many times in your career when you really feel that you’re given a great creative freedom to just roll, but also something just as archetypally juicy as Phantom was. Writing songs around a story that is essentially about the devil, all the Faustian themes, there was a wealth of material to write about. Also the music business that takes itself sometimes so seriously was really ripe for a good poking. At one point Brian De Palma had talked about me playing the character of Winslow and becoming The Phantom, this creepy little guy in the rafters of the theatre. I never thought I would be frightening as The Phantom. I also didn’t want people to see me playing somebody whose music was stolen. I was more comfortable playing the thief, stealing my own music, so nobody would think I had a hidden agenda against the music business. Nerve: It’s so darkly funny and larger than life. Were you listening to any glam rock? Glam rock would often satirize and pastiche musical genres. Williams: No, I don’t think that I even knew that what I was creating was glam rock. It was just kick ass rock ‘n’ roll and heavy guitar work. I tried to take it as far away from Winslow’s delicate presentation of the tunes. When I listen to“Life at Last” or “Somebody Super Like You” I’m really proud of it, it’s a pretty good rock ‘n’ roll record. Nerve: “The Hell of It” is one sour, sour, nasty song. And it closes the whole movie! Williams [quoting his lyrics]: “Good for nothing, bad in bed, nobody likes you, you’re better off dead, good bye…” I’ll tell you what it was originally written for. After Beef was killed there was supposed to be a funeral scene where you see this snowy graveyard with a casket over the open grave, and these people around in a circle

And Other Weird Birds

singing about Beef. While they’re singing the song “The Hell Of It”, you follow through all these microphones and cables back into a hearse. In the hearse was Swan recording the funeral live on the Death label. Nerve: I can just picture the De Palma tracking shot. Williams: What I wanted to do was a very kind of Fellini-esque thing of everybody in a big circle, “Dun dun dun dun da dun, dun dun dun dun dun da dun…” Very circus-y. And a little girl, whose mother is a stage mother who brought her, she runs in as they’re lowering the casket into the grave, she jumps on it and begins tap dancing to audition for Swan. I don’t know if we ran out of money or if we tried to find a snowy graveyard and couldn’t find one… It was Brian’s idea to just grab the song and cut to the end credits before that. Nerve: What were the working methods with you and De Palma? Williams: Originally it was Phantom Of The Fillmore and he wanted to use Sha Na Na as the group in the opening. We just started working. As we wrote, the whole Faustian theme really developed more and more throughout the whole piece. To me, the heart of the movie is in one great line: “An assassination live on coast to coast television… that’s entertainment!” There’s the whole thing where these kids have seen so much

“I’d write a song that was just perfect for a kick ass rock ‘n’ roll group and the publishing company would send it to the Harmonicats!” theatrical violence in the show with The Undead that when they see someone murdered onstage they think it’s part of the show. They cannot tell the difference between what is entertainment and what is real. It’s 1973 when we’re shooting this, so it’s from the ‘60s where people are eating their TV dinners watching the war news from Vietnam. We’ve begun to slide into that place where the dividing line between reality and entertainment and fantasy has begun to diminish. It’s a fairly accurate prophecy of where we are today. As Brian points out on the French DVD, with all the reality shows, people are literally living their lives on camera as Swan was. Nerve: It’s so crazy seeing people talk on camera about the most shameful things they’ve done, or that they’ll snitch on a family member just to be on TV. Williams: Tomorrow I’ll be 16 years sober. It’s my

sober birthday. When I was newly sober I went to U.C.L.A. and I got my certificate as a drug and alcohol counselor. I got very active and remain very active in recovery. I remember flying back to New York because Geraldo wanted to do a thing on heroin use and recovery. He asked me if I’d come in and share in my story. Not that I’m a heroin addict, I’m an alcoholic and a recovering cocaine addict. He thought it’d be good television and that I could share some of my experience, strength, and hope and that we could help reduce the stigma of the disease a little bit. I went back and the next thing I know, while we’re shooting the show, they’re doing a remote to somebody in rehab, I won’t say whose name it was, it was a famous son of an actor. When they cut to the commercial I went over to Geraldo and said, “You can’t do this. This is somebody who’s trying to save their life right now.” We never cut back to that person in rehab. It’s amazing that that’s where we’re going, as you say, the most horrific personal inside material as far as the networks or as far as the production people are concerned, that’s good television. Nerve: Phantom is so layered with its commentary and it is also very self referential in that it starts with a character writing music about Faust, then the whole thing becomes a Faustian bargain. And let’s not forget the well-choreographed split screen explosion sequence. That’s why I am very curious about yours and De Palma’s working methods. Williams: I think that in any picture that is a true musical, and Phantom Of The Paradise is really a musical, the process has to really be collaborative. You don’t write a finished script and say, “Here’s where the songs are going to go.” When I got on board there was a finished script, but it was very different from what we wound up with. Nerve: Apart from your film soundtracks, in your career as a songwriter what was your criteria for working with a singer? Williams: I wouldn’t work with a singer. I’d work with somebody else and I’d write a song and then the publishing company - I’d write a song that was just perfect for a kick ass rock ‘n’ roll group and the publishing company would send it to the Harmonicats and they’d record it! The interesting thing about the time of my career as a songwriter, as a contract writer at A & M records, is I was writing so much material that it was being sent to everybody. It was kind of like throwing it up against the wall and it’d stick where it would stick. But it was also the time where I caught the back end of some amazing careers. So all of a sudden I’ve got stuff being cut by Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby and Elvis Presley and David Bowie. You’re looking at a career for me as a songwriter that got hot during the third act of some amazing careers that began back in the ‘40s, but also some amazing careers that were just getting started. Consequently I can write a song like “Rainbow Connection” that Kermit The Frog sings in 1979, and in 2005 Willie Nelson sings it. It’s a great accident of the ages that I was born when I was and started writing when I did, that I caught so many amazing careers. Nerve: With “Rainbow Connection” I read in your bio that you said it was the greatest song you’ve ever written. Williams: I don’t think I said it was the greatest. I might have said that it was my favourite. I think there’s an element of hope and I think

there’s an appreciation of mystery in the song. I romanticized my collaboration with the Henson clan. Jim Henson was an amazing man. I’ve had some unpleasant collaborative experiences in film and otherwise, but I’d have to say the best ones that have offered the most creative freedom was with people that would play at their music and their movies, that had great focus and great drive but never got that fever to control you. We literally sat down with Jerry Juhl, Jim Henson, myself, and Kenny Ascher, and a bunch of guys in a room. It was kind of like, “What’re we gonna write about for The Muppet Movie? What’re we gonna do? Why don’t we do a road movie? Okay. Like how they all get together. We’ll start in the swamp. Who comes along? How about an agent in a rowboat. Wow! What a great idea! Dom Deluise.” And that’s how it played out. It was just such fun. I love Gonzo. Gonzo’s my favourite Muppet. I think he’s a landlocked bird. I think in a lot of ways, we as people are these weird little birds that are longing to go back to the sky on some level. There’s a scene in the movie as we were writing it where they break down in the desert. I said to Jim, “They’re sitting around a campfire, there’s all these amazing stars in the heavens. Why don’t we have Gonzo sing about this longing to go back.” And Jim took it literally, “Why don’t we let him experience flight during the earlier part of the film?” And he wrote this entire fairground scene just so that Gonzo could buy a bunch of helium balloons for Camilla, his chicken girlfriend, he buys too many and he goes floating off into space. They shoot the balloons one at a time to bring him back to earth safely but he loved it while everybody’s so scared for him. So in that scene he’s looking at the heavens and he’s singing about “I’m going to go back there someday” with a philosophical overtone about life, when life ends do we go back there some day? The amazing thing is when Jim died they sang “I’m Going to Go Back There Someday” at his funeral. It was like full circle. I don’t know. It’s just really special to me. “Rainbow Connection” and “I’m Going to Go Back There Some Day” are both favourites. I have other kinds of songs that are favourites. Nerve: You were all over TV in the ‘70s and ‘80s. Just switch the channel and you’d be there. I don’t know how you did it. Williams: I became a lot better at showing off than showing up. In a way I think celebrity becomes an addiction in a certain sense. I think my career as a writer was greatly impacted by me running off to do The Gong Show instead of paying attention to the opportunity I’d been given to write. We learn by doing in life so I’ve learned and I’ve changed in a lot of ways and I’m a real grateful man for the life I’ve been given. n

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CONTENTS

MUSIC

Death Cab For CutieAsking for Directions D

eath Cab for Cutie is currently coheadlining a North American tour with Franz Ferdinand, in support of its major label debut Plans. The month-long jaunt ends in Vancouver on April 28, at Pacific Coliseum, much to bassist Nick Harmer’s delight. “We love Vancouver,” he exclaims, from a tour stop in Las Vegas. “Every time we’re there it’s a great time.” During its time on the road, the band’s ambitious Directions web project will come to an end. “It was an idea I had with a friend of mine,” Harmer explains “Aaron Stewart Ahn, who directed “Stable Song” [the last video] in the group. He and I have been friends for a long time, we grew up together. We’ve always been interested in doing film stuff. That’s kind of what I do on the side. We were just batting around ideas and thought it would be fun if we could get this together. We went to Atlantic and asked if they could put together a small budget for us. Atlantic got really excited about the idea.” That idea was to commission 11 videos; one for each track on the album. Hopeful directors sent in treatments, the band decided which ones they like the most, and then made sure to keep a distance. “Marching Bands of Freedom”, debuted on the band’s website on January 23rd, and it all ends on April 3rd with “Brothers on a Hotel Bed”. “We were more curators in this,” says

By Dale De Ruiter

Harmer. “That was part of the stipulation. (Because) the videos were made on such lowbudgets; the directors would get full creative control with no interference from label, band, or anybody. We just picked the treatments and sat back and waited for them to be turned in.” Was the band nervous that any of them might turn out crappy? Harmer says they were fairly confident about what to expect from the various treatments, but admits, “I guess there was a little bit of fear, but that is also the excitement of it. To see what happens and where it goes. When left to their own devices and decisions, what would the directors turn in? It was great.” The guiding principle for Death Cab was variety. Consequently, some videos are animated, some include a narrative, others don’t. The band wanted a wide range of tone and mood, and that’s what they got. According to the website the videos are available for download on iTunes as of March 27. You can also get your grubby little hands on the DVD collection by late April. Don’t crap your pants, though. The band is doing its best to make sure this little gem is affordable for every single one of its hard-up fans. “I would feel really guilty if it was expensive,” assures Harmer, because he is a nice guy and Death Cab wants you to be happy. n

The Living Things Out of the Shark Pool, into the Piranha Tank (Or, Which Evil Mega-Corp do YOU Prefer?) T By Cowboy TexAss

he Living Things - three brothers and a friend from St. Louis who play rock music with a socio-political message. They splice the dangerous mentality of ‘70s punk with the pop sensibility of Franz Ferdinand, U2, and Nirvana. Add to that a lot of anti-war, marching-type imagery, and sharp-toothed lyrics that critique the Iraq war, Bush, censorship, and a prescriptiondrugged society that the Living Things have christened the “Blackout Generation”. Not surprisingly, these guys are getting known as much for an outspoken nature and their involvement in the antiwar movement (playing for 100,000 with the likes of Steve Earle, Joan Baez, Ian McKaye at Operation Ceasefire, for instance), as they are for getting their single “Bom Bom Bom” played in Cingular ads. “Some people are afraid to put out records that have a strong political stance,” says guitarist/ vocalist Lillian Berlin, about the band’s recent label switch from Universal to Sony. “So we said fuck them, and went and found someone who

had the balls to put it out.” “Don’t be harassed and polluted by what you see on TV and you read in the paper,” the moppy-haired singer says about the message behind the music. “Have your own view, use your vocal chords and get it out there and make it known. Don’t be a zombie waiting in line.” Hence the newest album title, presumably, for the Steve Albini-recorded Ahead of the Lion. “The government and politicians are the lions,” Berlin explains. “And we’re the people trying to get ahead of them, be one smarter than them.” Berlin’s conversation is polite and affable, but the band has a history of rallying, vandalizing, and generally raising merry shit. There’s even an assault charge or two in their back-story. “We have problems every time we cross the border,” Berlin sighs. “They seem to come up with new charges every time… We have to sit there and talk with them for hours. It’s always a long night… They say we’ve done a million things.” What things? I ask. Inciting

“Don’t be harassed and polluted by what you see on TV and you read in the paper.”

ditors’ Russell Leetch has staved off the last of his jetlag. Now, there’s simply the matter of a South by Southwest-spawned hangover to contend with. Speaking from his hotel room in Austin, the British bass player is easing himself into the afternoon and bracing for the band’s third show in as many nights. “To be honest, we’re all looking forward to kicking off the tour,” he admits. SXSW has proven a touch too “industry” for the band’s collective taste. An impending six weeks on North American highways and byways (culminating at Coachella) will provide ample opportunity to introduce Editors’ “artfully sombre” sound to new listeners.

The Nerve April 2006 Page 16

Editors The Back Room – the band’s debut album – received its North American release on March 21st but has been available since July in Europe. Entering the British charts at a respectable Number 13, the album climbed as high as Number 2 earlier this year. The key to the band’s gradual yet persistent ascent to platinum status has been their workmanlike dedication to touring. “We played 200 gigs last year,” shares Leetch. “We’ve really built ourselves up as a live band in the U.K.” By going it the old-fashioned route, Editors also managed to slip the clutches of the infamous hype machine that is the British music

riots? “Whatever the newspapers say, man…” Berlin and co. just finished up at the South By Southwest festival. “It was fun and annoying all in the same breath,” concludes Berlin. “We played about six shows in two days. Every sleazebag in the music industry across America and Europe descends on Texas in what started off as a thing for unsigned bands, independents, to go out and get seen… Now it’s a big hype machine. “ Surely it’s not all bad? “A highlight for us was playing with Perry Farrell,” Berlin says. “We backed him up when he did a version of “Mountain Song”. That was fun. It was great getting out and playing in front of large amounts of people, getting a good reaction. Ate a lot of BBQ and drank a lot of beer. “ So, what’s new for the Living Things? “We’re

STILL in Texas… seems like we’ve been here for weeks now. We’re getting ready to drive to New Orleans to start our first headlining American tour. We’re not gonna stop touring, recording. I hate when bands stop for two years, disappear, then reemerge.” And so there you have it. If you haven’t heard them yet, the Living Things aren’t going anywhere. Catch them at Dicks on May 15th. n

From Britain Without Hype By Curtis Woloschuk

press. “Everyone always likes the underdogs,” is written with integrity,” he states. “The mood of he states. “We’re really glad we’re not Arctic that music [we grew up listening to] is how we like to write as well.” Monkeys. I’m sure they never asked to be put on the cover of NME five times. It actually kind Having known each other for five of detracts [from a band] sometimes. People are years, Editors’ members possess an innate like: ‘Oh. They’re on the cover. No thanks.’” understanding of each other’s musical tendencies. Still, they acquired a new studio trick In lieu of photo spreads, the Birminghamor two from producer Jim Abbiss during the three based four-piece has relied on a strong rookie release and its accompanying four singles. weeks spent recording The Back Room. For instance, Leetch applauds Describing their adopted “We’re really glad we’re Abbiss’ reshaping of the base of operations as “big and gray,” Leetch suggests, not Arctic Monkeys. I’m disc’s centre-piece “Camera” into a soulful, down-tempo “I think your surroundings sure they never asked always affect your music.” In number. “We’re going to to be put on the cover spend a lot more time in the this vein, Editors songs are studio on the next record,” aimed directly at the sullen of NME five times.” hearts of black-clad posthe foresees. “We need to push on as a band.” punks. Noteworthy tracks such as “Bullets” and “Munich” boast looming choruses that emerge Before a sophomore record can become a serious consideration, there are still two-and-afrom dour yet danceable verses. half months of shows to slog through. The brass Vocalist Tom Smith’s deep timbre and ring at the end of it all is three sold-out nights penchant for woeful lyrics (“So cover your lies up/ at London’s storied Brixton Academy. Leetch With another promise”) have often made Ian Curtis comparisons a requisite in any Editors piece. is already anticipating the commendable run. Exhibiting a knack for understatement, he humbly However, Leetch credits more contemporary acts submits, “It’s always nice when 3,000 people are like Radiohead and Spiritualized with moulding the band’s sound. Penning “happy pop songs” shouting your words back at you while you play.” n isn’t even a consideration for Editors. “Our music

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The Nerve April 2006 Page 17

CONTENTS

Of Bo Diddley and Babies By Sean Law

o Diddley cut his first disc at Chess Records in 1955. He was there at the dawn of Rock’n’Roll and has influenced literally thousands of artists, many of whom used his distinctive ‘Bo Diddley’ rhythm pattern in their own works. Most notable of these were British R’n’B bands like the Rolling Stones and the Pretty Things (the latter took their name from one of his songs). Always an innovator and remarkable showman, Diddley pioneered the use of distorted tremelo, custom-made guitars (shaped like squares, or Cadillac fins, fur-covered etc.), and has had notable female accompanists (‘Lady Bo’, ‘The Duchess’, ‘Cookie’). He has played for generations of rock’n’roll fans; from crazed teens at the Brooklyn Paramount in the mid-’50s, to screaming mods in ‘60s Britain, to the hippies of San Francisco’s ballroom scene, on to ‘70s rock’n’roll revivalists and punk rockers. He’s even gigged at the White House! But despite all of this, Bo has ended up with ‘Diddley’ in the money department, due to a few unfortunate ‘Chess moves’ involving ownership of his songwriting credits. Clearly he has suffered for his art. I’m at the Nerve office on Granville, waiting to interview Bo Diddley over the telephone. While editor ‘Big Daddy’ Mack is making the connecting phone call to Bo’s residence in Florida, I am entrusted with the task of holding and bobbing his seven-month-old baby daughter Sadie. I am suffering a king-size case of the jitters. Babies make me nervous (especially when they’re trying to crawl out of your arms so they can attempt to swan-dive to the floor) but, moreover, I am about to talk to someone who is at the pinnacle of my own personal Mount Olympus of Rock’n’Roll Gods. Bo has now reached the age of 77 and his highly influential ‘55 to ‘65 period at Chess/Checker Records was many years ago. But the man is still with us and he will be performing at Richmond’s River Rock Casino on April 23rd. We could hardly believe it when we got the OK for an interview. Mack gets Bo on the line. He passes me the phone. I pass Mack his baby back to him. (all notes in parenthesis are by the interviewer) Nerve: You’ve been in the game now for 51 years, you’ve seen some serious changes over the years... BO: I’ve seen ALL of them, Baby! (laughs) Nerve: In regards to music technology and techniques, since you’ve been something of an innovator, are there any recent techniques that you’ve made use of? BO: Oh yeah. I have to, because you gotta roll with the punches. And the punches is definitely out there. Just like right now, Rap music has got rid of all the beautiful instruments that our music was based and built on. The entertainment system is going to... what? I don’t know. I’m waitin’ to see what the next generation come up with. Nerve: The Gretsch Guitar Company has now issued a copy of one of your custom guitars for sale to the public. BO: That guitar was designed by me about 1961. Gretsch is makin’ it and we renamed it and tied it up with Billy Gibbons (of ZZ Top, who now owns Bo’s original guitar) and we callin’ it the ‘Billy-Bo’. My original square guitar is also being made by Gretsch right now, I designed that one in 1958.

The Nerve April 2006 Page 18

(a child starts crying in the background at Bo’s place) BO: Hold on a moment. (To the kid): Baby, you gotta go out, I’m talking on the phone. Go in the kitchen. Go in the kitchen, or you just stop cryin’. OK? Go ahead... (We share a laugh that we are essentially having a mirror image of each other with crying babies in our midst). Nerve: Back to the guitars, you built the first ones yourself though, right? Then Gretsch applied your design ideas to the ones they built for you... BO: Oh yes, I built a lot of guitars. They didn’t look like nothin’ but they worked! (then) Gretsch

see any money out of that reissue? BO: I ain’t seen no money out of any of the stuff that’s being reissued by MCA (now owned by Geffen). I prefer not to talk about that too much, it’s because I’d have to talk about some people that I know that’s involved in it and there’s kind of like a gag order, you know? I don’t want to say something about somebody and then face it later that I ‘slandered’ something. I won’t blow. I won’t even talk about nothing like that. Nerve: That reissue had some unreleased tracks on it. Where did those come from? BO: I don’t know, man. It’s come out of the vault, I guess, where they kept everything. I haven’t seen any cheques, you know? And I’m very

An interview with the Grandfather of Rock’n’Roll.

built all my guitars, except a couple. The Gretsch family really liked what I did. I’ve known Fred Gretsch (grand-son who revived the company name in the 1990’s) for years, I even knew him when he was a youngster. He decided, “I want to build a Bo Diddley guitar.” And here it is. It’s a beautiful instrument and it sounds great. Gretsch is a dynamite company, man. Some dynamite people that run it, you know? Nerve: I heard a story, that a roadie drove over one of your original guitars? BO: No. Well, we had an accident and the guitar fell into the street out of the car. And a TRUCK ran over it! That was the ORIGINAL one! And it was put back together, piece by piece. That was in about 1972, somewhere around there. Nerve: The Bo Diddley Is a Gunslinger album (from 1960) has been reissued on CD. Do you

much upset about this stuff that’s still going on today with thieves stealin’. And I ain’t dead, man! I’m looking for my mailbox to look like footballs you know? Y’unnerstand? Nerve: Yes I do! BO: But it’s not happenin’ man. This is what I call ‘The Good Ol’ American Rip-Off’. Y’unnerstand? Because these people that get away with such kind of stuff. And then when you try to take somebody to court you run into something called ‘The Statute Of Limitations’. You know. And that’s fucked up. ‘Scuse my language. We’ve gotten slammed with that kind of crap and I think it’s wrong. Dead wrong. Nerve: Analyzing your music, I find that there’s been a lot of humor in there... BO: Oh yes, I’m doing that again now. I have a girl that I’m working with called Tiffany (not THAT

Tiffany) and we puttin’ comedy in there. I’m teaching her how to do it, so she doesn’t sing, so she’s talkin’ the song out. Like I got this song called “Leave”. It’s about a man, that his old lady tells him to leave, to get away from her, she’s had enough of his mess. You know? And it’s funny. Like my old songs where I used to have Cookie. Cookie’s deceased now. And Jerome (Green) is gone. You know, all the people that used to do that with me is gone. (the child on Bo’s end starts crying again) BO: Hold on a minute. (to the child): You got to leave baby, I’m talking on the phone. Go in the kitchen and sit there. You gotta quit cryin’ ‘cos I can’t hear the Man. OK? Look at TV... OK, go ahead man. Nerve: Back to the humor thing, was Fats Waller ever an influence on you at all? BO: No way! Don’t ever ask me if someone was an influence! I influenced other guys. I didn’t listen to nobody that I sound like. I sound like ME! Nobody else. (laughs) Nerve: Back to the Chess era, I’ve always been curious about the artist that did the LP covers, Don Bronstein... BO: I have no idea who in the hell he is. These guys did something when I was not in town, a lot of it. These guys came out with these screwed up paintings, drawings and shit. Y’know, something that I never OK’d or looked at until the damn thing was handed to me when I walked in... “Oh we got your new album”, and that’s depressing, you know? And I had no say-so. Nerve: Some of your songs look at the political landscape of the day. Like “Hey, Khruschev”... BO: That’s REAL old. Nerve: What do you make of the world today? BO: Well I got one that I was getting ready to do, and I quit foolin’ with it because I was going through a divorce. It’s called “My Eagle Is Pissed’”. About the Saddam Hussein mess, you know? Meanin’ the United States is pissed off. About what happened with the twin towers. I never thought that people would do that kind of shit. (At this moment Mack’s baby Sadie starts crying) Nerve: Sorry, sir. Hold on just a minute please. BO: You got one too! Nerve: (to Mack) Yeah, you’re gonna have to take her out. BO: Oh Man! (laughs) Nerve: The readership of our magazine loves the punk rock. They’re gonna wanna know this. How did it come to pass that you toured with the Clash? BO: I have no idea. It was a gig, and I took it. I did very well with it. Nerve: What’s shakin’ in the world of Bo Diddley today? BO: You’ll soon see. I’m coming, I ain’t gone yet! Nerve: Anything you want the people to know? BO: I just want to tell all the kids in Vancouver, in fact anybody that might read your magazine, musicians-to-be or whatever: Stay away from the Drugs. Don’t let yourself become ridiculous. Stay drug-free and do your thang. And try to be the best at what you do. But make it legal and honest, and all of that. That’s my word to’em. And man, I’m gonna have to run. I gotta go see a man about a puppy, right quick. Nerve: Alright! BO: Right On, baby. OK. Bye-bye. n

CONTENTS

HARD Fi

… And the ‘C Word’

By Adrian Mack

Cocaine What? Kai Stephens, bassist with the UK’s next big thing (after we’re done with Arctic Monkeys), is sitting at home in Staines, UK, when The Nerve takes his call. Shouldn’t Stephens be somewhere in the States, on a tour bus, with the rest of his band? Wasn’t HARD Fi on The Jimmy Kimmel Show last night? “I’m sitting out the US Tour,” he says softly, “I’ve had trouble getting a visa. It’s harsh. Really harsh. Quite a while ago, I got busted for some coke, and I’ve had to plead about that at US immigration. It’s really punishing to have to sit it out.” “I was punished for this years ago,” Stephens continues. “I learned my lesson. I thought, ‘It’s not the way to go.’ That conviction is what made me want to concentrate really hard on music, and get my life where I want it to be without getting into trouble. So it is a little bit ironic.” I’ll say. Stephens has been replaced by the guy from Jamiroquai’s band - Nick Fyffe. That’s who Vancouver will see when HARD-Fi comes to the Plaza on April 22nd. “He’s really, really good,” insists Stephens. “If anything, it’s just cemented my job, really. He’s a top musician, he’s toured a lot, he’s a really nice guy, but they’re saying there’s still something missing, so it’s made me feel secure in my gig. The first time they went it was awful. Just awful. I thought, they’re just gonna replace me.”

Stephens’ snakey basslines are one of the best things about HARDFi’s debut album Stars of CCTV – they’d be nuts to ever let him go (“I listen to a lot of reggae and ska,” he tells me. “I like to keep things simple and effective, in the same way that Bill Wyman, Kim Deal, Paul Simonon did.”) More to the point, however, why does America’s Department of Fatherland, I mean, Homeland Security get it so wrong all the time? We’re talking about a little but of cocaine, which probably arrived in Stephens nose via illegal trade routes that have been protected with vicious efficiency by elements of the same government that wants to keep the poor boy out. On top of that, Jamiroquai is an acid jazz knobend with a stupid fucking hat.

“You’ve heard of Lee Scratch Perry? He was asked to describe the sound of his Black Ark, and he said, ‘Hard-fi’.”

Crap HARD Fi is the kind of classically English band that just ties North American scenesters into little shit-knots. There are things about Stars of CCTV that are ineffably great (like the single, “Cash Machine”, or the ringing disco classic “Hard to Beat”) and things about it that make little sense without an education in English middle class boredom. “Staines is Everytown, UK,” Stephens says, glumly. “We just recently had a new shopping area built, with your 10-screen cinema,

“We enjoy a good laugh” your Pizza Huts. It looks like it’s been built from an identikit shopping area. It’s got one nightclub, if you’re into chart house and commercial r’n’b. There’s no live venues, no rehearsal rooms or studios. There isn’t a music shop. Still. Just recently they opened a CD superstore. It’s full of DVDs. I always feel lost in those places.” Complex Math Staines is crap. Stars of CCTV actually sounds like Staines. But Stars of CCTV is great. Weird!!! Cash Machine Have you heard this song? It’s a classic, all about being strapped and knocking up your girlfriend. HARD-Fi made a cheap video by climbing over the fence at Heathrow airport and performing at the far end of a landing strip (see it on YouTube). When the band signed to Atlantic, they made another, bigger, fancier video. Stephens prefers the first one. “It was much more fun to make,” he says, without equivocation. “It was fun just going out and doing it, taking the risk.” When the major labels came knocking, HARD-Fi deferred

to its black market inclinations. “The guerilla manifesto,” says Stephens, “Making the most of a tight budget – it’s kinda how we got our name. You’ve heard of Lee Scratch Perry? He was asked to describe the sound of his Black Ark, and he said, ‘Hard-fi.’ He was using limited equipment then, and pushing the capabilities to make new stuff.” Stars of CCTV was made in a shed for 300 pounds sterling. Even while Atlantic dangled the keys to Abbey Road and Olympic Studios in front of them, HARD- Fi chose to finish recording in the shed, which they called Cherry Lips, because it’s where they started. “We were quite happy with our sound,” Stephens explains. “We got the A&R man from Atlantic to come down, told him to bring some tea bags and some milk. There was nowhere for him to sit. But our idea was, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. You can hear all the defects, like when a delivery person would come in, or when Steve (Kemp – drummer) misses a beat.” Any other act would have knocked that on the head, wouldn’t it? “We kept those moments,” Stephens says, “Because we felt that they were moments.” n

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WITH SPECIAL GUESTS

ALL AGE

LAWRENCE ARMS AND THE BLACK MARIA MAY 24 MAY 26 MAY 27 MAY 28 DOORS 8PM, SHOW 9PM TICKETS ALSO AT ZULU AND SCRATCH

RAMADA THEATRE – WINNIPEG MACEWAN HALL BALLROOM – CALGARY THE STARLIGHT ROOM – EDMONTON CROATIAN CULTURAL CENTRE – VANCOUVER TICKETS ALSO AT ZULU AND SCRATCH

RICHARD’S ON RICHARDS

APRIL 20

SOUTH

THE RED ROOM

APRIL 21

THE GREENHORNES RICHARD’S ON RICHARDS

APRIL 22

JOSH ROUSE THE RED ROOM

APRIL 24

MAGIC NUMBERS RICHARD’S ON RICHARDS

APRIL 28

FRANZ FERDINAND PACIFIC COLISEUM

MAY 17

THE CONCRETES RICHARD’S ON RICHARDS

The Nerve April 2006 Page 21

CONTENTS

MUSIC

I Am Curious, PandaDungen Discusses Tension and Release D ear reader, watch as I fearlessly brave accusations of hippiedom by proclaiming my deep love for Swedish psych-rockers Dungen, a band whose native language sounds like a tape of Helen Reddy swearing backwards in slow motion, and whose music has folk elements in it. That’s right – folk elements. Had you told me a year ago I would be over the sun with a band like this one, I probably would have slapped you with my cock. But that’s the old Spackler. These days I’m running thru fields on a massive contact high with Scandinavian folk lifting my sprit to Valhalla! And it’s only eight in the morning on a Monday. I spoke with guitarist Reine Fisk who was cooling his boots in New York, while the band’s phenomenal Ta Det Lugnt (“Take it Easy” in Swedish) blasted thru the Nerve office. Don’t miss out when these man-sized elves massage Vancouver’s throbbing pineal gland at Richard’s on Richards, April 23rd, precipitating a mass psychic ejaculation and the birth, no doubt, of the fabled Sun Child and his New Aeon. Seriously – these guys are the new deal. Miss at your peril.

Nerve: I just discovered Ta Det Lugnt. I love it. Do you guys have a new one coming out? Fiske: Later this year. Hopefully. Nerve: I know very little about Sweden, so I went and asked one of the NHL hockey players who lives here. He said, “It’s cold, dark, and there’s nothing to do but play hockey.” Fiske: Yeah, in a way. But it’s so much more. I bet Canada is pretty cold and dark at times too. Nerve: Yeah, that’s in the summer. Fiske: We have pretty much the same climate, I think, as Canada. I think I like Canada very much, because it’s on the same altitude as Sweden. Nerve: You mention the word ‘Swedish’ to any male born in a certain year, and they naturally become very aroused, very horny. Are you aware of the Swedish legacy of pornography? Fiske: Our manager is the one to answer that

The Nerve April 2006 Page 22

question. But it’s basically a myth. Maybe Sweden was early in producing films, but it wasn’t hardcore films. It was educational films. Nerve: In the mid ‘60s there was that big Swedish film I Am Curious. Fiske: Yellow, yeah. It’s still a bit controversial. Nerve: I read that Gustav (Ejstes – songwriter/vocalist) was angry when he cut the vocals for Take it Easy. Fiske: Yeah, sort of. There was Maybe a lot of things clashing around in his life. That’s the same thing now really. We’re all frustrated. I’m extremely frustrated, especially right now. Nerve: It’s not this interview, is it? Fiske: No, no, no. But concerning this group. There’s… Nerve: Tension? Fiske: Yeah, in a way there is. Nerve: It makes good art occasionally. Fiske: Sometimes frustration is good, sometimes it’s not so good. Gustav’s been working on new material. I think it will turn out well in the end. Nerve: There are so many influences in the music. When I read about you guys online, it just talks about how Gustav found all these Swedish folk rock records. D’you guys like Blue Cheer? Fiske: Yeah, of course. They’re amazing. Nerve: Was there a Swedish Blue Cheer? Fiske: Not really. There were a lot of groups in Sweden, but very few records were actually released, especially during that era. There’s a band called - in English it’s translated to “The

PHOTO: CARL ABRAHAMSSON

By Carl Spackler

you should start by burning that sweater, buddy Flesh is Burning” or “The Burning Pork” - they were very sort of Mothers of Invention, or early ‘70s Zappa sounding. But jazzier, and very folky. Nerve: There’s a real pastoral sense to your music, you know? I watched that video for “Panda” where you guys are running around a field, and it made me want to go run around in a Swedish field or something. Fiske: That sort of open atmosphere comes from, I don’t know, it’s just natural. Sometimes we just want to burn things. Nerve: Burn things? See, I just don’t hear anger on this record. If this is your ‘angry’, what’s your ‘happy’? Fiske: Maybe it’s more bittersweet than angry. I usually don’t listen to the record very much but sometimes when I get really frustrated I listen to it very loud in headphones, and drink a lot of wine. But I get this feeling that it turns out to be very atmospheric in the end. All those sort of heavy songs, in the end they become more atmospheric than heavy. The way they blend together. Nerve: Do you guys have those volcanic

“Sometimes we just want to burn things.”

rocks in Sweden that you can put in tea and get high? Or is that just Iceland? Fiske: No, I don’t think so. There’s plenty of stuff here you can use, but I’m not into that, not anymore. From playing, you get some sort of altered state of mind at times. Nerve: I was watching you live on the YouTube - it was pretty stripped down. Fiske: Live, it’s been like that from the beginning. But I just saw a small clip when we played in Texas, just about a week ago. The record company in the US - Kemado Records - they had a big party connected to this South by Southwest thing. And it was the first time I actually heard a recording in quite a while, of us playing live. It’s more furious. Very hard rock. I really wish we could get into more softer things too. Nerve: How much do you hate your record company? Fiske: The U.S. guys, they’re great. We had a deal with the Swedish Virgin office, but the problem with them was they didn’t really know how to promote the whole thing. Nerve: And no one ever really pressures you to sing in English? Fiske: No. Nerve: Is there anything you would like to say to the people of Canada? Fiske: I would very much like to spend some time in Canada. A couple of weeks. In the forest somewhere. A good hike in the forest. Nerve: We have outrageously strong marijuana out here. Would you guys like a big bag of that? Fiske: I’m fine. Nerve: You’re good? All right. Have you been to Vancouver before? Fiske: No. We’ve been to Toronto Nerve: Toronto’s a shit hole. But Vancouver’s beautiful. This is a good time to come. It’ll be wonderful. Well, thanks so much for talking to me, Reine. Fiske: Thanks. n

CONTENTS

“We actually did an interview with Nintendo Power. Those were sweet with all the maps and stuff!”

By Dave Bertrand

Nerve: What’s the Advantage ‘approach’? Spencer: At least melodically, we do it exactly how it is in the games. And the percussion, there’s a lot of times that games just don’t have

it. So I just try to play what [I think] they would have programmed. I’m sure I add a little bit of my own swing to it so that it doesn’t sound too robotic. Nerve: Who’re the crazy Japs who wrote this junk? Ben: Sometimes they use aliases, like in the credits for Megaman II, it’s written by “Bun Bun”. I have a list somewhere of all the composers. Nerve: Any weird licensing issues? Ben: We talked with Nintendo a couple years ago, and there’s really no one there who would know how to do that. So we just put the record out. It’s good advertising for them. Nerve: You guys seem like a shoo-in for Nintendo Power. Ben: We actually did an interview with Nintendo Power. Those were sweet with all the maps and stuff! Nerve: Nintendo’s big black promo guide/ strategy book was my childhood Bible. Ben: Gideon’s put it out? I never saw that. Nerve: On the cover of your latest CD, ElfTitled, there’s this sexy beachfront Nintendo car wash and one poor mutilated digitized bikini babe. What happened? Spencer: That’s a reference to California Games, where you can skateboard around and dodge different things. There might be a hose or some

obstacles like that. Oil spills. I assume that probably in the game there’s not blood. Nerve: Probably not. Spencer: But in our game there is. She should have been watching out; she was probably looking at the girls. Nerve: The girl was looking at the girls? Spencer: Yeah. Nerve: Nice. Spencer: Yeah. Nerve: Do you guys actually play the piss out of these games until you’ve memorized the tunes, or do you cheat and use the internet? Spencer: The internet. There’s a fair amount of songs that we play that we’ve never been to in the games. I remember when I was a kid, if there was a point in a certain level that I could stop at and not get killed by any enemies, I could grab my little recorder and record music off the television speakers. A couple levels had awesome music, but there was no safe zone. So my friend had to play, trying to be as quiet as possible while dodging a bunch of enemies, and I would record. Nerve: Any Advantage tips for fixing a busted system? Spencer: I would pull it apart and go in there to the actual piece that grips the cartridge, and

Coup de Theatre I

t’s hard to reinvent yourself after being stigmatized for one minuscule occurrence. Like the boy in my high school who got an erection in Health class, the Coup will forever be known as, “the group that predicted September 11.” In June 2001, the hip-hop duo released the cover art for their upcoming album Party Music, depicting the World Trade Centers mid-explosion. In the foreground, Coup members Boots Riley and Pam the Funkstress are holding a guitar tuner/detonator. The picture received international coverage after a certain little terrorist event three months later, and became a hot new chain letter for internet conspiracy theorists. Was it prophetic or wishful thinking? Regardless, the Coup found themselves couped. The album was out-of-print before its release date and fans had to wait another year before the re-issue. With a new CD cover - still malicious but tame in comparison - Party Music was eventually sprung to critical acclaim. Unfortunately, by then, it was hardly noticed and Party Music went to under-

rated-music-heaven along with the Coup’s previous three albums. Comprised of rapper Boots Riley and DJ Pam the Funkstress, the Coup has achieved more than one spooky picture. A rabble-rouser and devoted humanitarian, Riley attended South Africa’s World Conference Against Racism in 2001, toured with political musicians like Tom Morello and Steve Earle during 2003’s “Tell Us the Truth Tour”, and protested California’s Proposition 21 with a Guerilla Style theatre event - a parading concert through the streets of his hometown, Oakland. He founded ShoYoAss Words, Sounds and Pictures, a media campaign that promotes social and political awareness, and had the Coup’s song “Me and Jesus the Pimp in a ‘79 Grenada Last Night” adapted into a novel. Four years on from Party Music, the Coup hope to break the cast of alleged terrorism, and bring funky revolutionary hip-hop that is smart, moving, goofy and celebratory. At the listening party for their new album Pick a Bigger Weapon – held at Vancouver’s Tokyo Lounge - Riley ex-

“I want my art to provide hope and to celebrate life. Celebrating the fact that you have power to control your surroundings.”

with a larger-sized safety pin, bend each of the prongs a little bit. There’s like 50 or 60 or so prongs that grip different connections. Bend them all down so they grab on the cartridge really well, and then you can clean it off with some rubbing alcohol. Nerve: Wow! That was really elaborate. I used to shove a pair of salad tongs in the cartridge slot. Spencer: I think, without actually making adjustments to the Nintendo, we always used to – well, actually only in the last few years did I find this one out – but blowing in the game is really good. Nerve: You just found that out??? Spencer: No, no, I used to do that. But then after, putting it up under your shirt, kind of wrapping your shirt around the open area of the game, and then taking a deep breath and blowing the longest, slowest breath you can. The T-shirt actually holds the air that you’re blowing in and puts condensation onto all of the contacts on the cartridge, also heating it up. This pretty much seems to work every time. I wish I knew about that when I was a kid. Nerve: What do you think about using computer emulators? Spencer: I don’t really mess with it. It just feels so weird without the controller. Playing on a keyboard… It’s like having sex with a sex doll. n

By Omar Mouallem

plains, “Sometimes when people attempt to do art that talks about changing the world, they get caught in the doom and gloom of it. I want my art to provide hope and to celebrate life. Celebrating the fact that you have power to control your surroundings.” There is something very festive about the Coup’s movement. This occurred to me when I witnessed a couple on the dancefloor grooving to the song “Head of State.” It sounds like George Clinton busting out in a rap after a six-month stay in Guantanamo Bay. The music is and always has been jubilant, but now there’s a successful record company offering the Coup something they’ve never experienced before: promotion. “This is the first time we’ve had this,” Boots explains, about the deal with Epitaph. “Tours and advertising. They’ve made it so that if you want the album, you can actually get it.” They’re also getting the support of Okay Play-

er, an online hip-hop community for thoughtful and innovative musicians, founded by Roots front man Black Thought. He also appears on Weapon, alongside Talib Kweli, and the album finally hits stores on April 25th. Assuming that there isn’t a rash of bloody stock market bludgeonings immediately beforehand, there shouldn’t be any need to re-think the cover. n

PHOTO: ALEXANDER WARNOW

rom the Heavens… THE ADVANTAGE. Four California stoners in standard rock band format, 8-bits of Nintendo Glory, and one ultra-fanboy fetish: to re-record every 4-track MIDI tune from 800+ NES games before they die. For any 20-something pathetic geek like me – Konami code embedded in the brain, restless childhood nights waiting for The Wizard and dreaming of Metroid’s Samus Aran unbuckling her spacesuit – this band is a MUST. But surprise! The prog-rock mastery on display here is so overwhelmingly genuine, I think even the old-timers stuck in a shoebox with ELP’s Tarkus will be mesmerized by the EPIC GRANDEUR. Try “Contra – Alien’s Lair & Boss Music” – you’ll be grinning like a retard. “Ducktails – Moon” is a total tearjerker. “Double Dragon III – Egypt”… God, I’m shaking… “Super Mario Bros. 2 – Underworld”? Jumping Jesuit! Thirtyseven small seconds of the sickest drum groove and feedback-blaring guitar thunder on Earth. I no longer enjoy listening to un-Advantageous music of any sort. This is the best cover band in existence, with the ugliest website I’ve ever seen. I chatted with guitarist/electric sitarist/ organeer Ben Milner and bionic drum commando Spencer Seim as they recline in Ben’s basement bong-dungeon.

The Nerve April 2006 Page 23

B V

CONTENTS

By Ferdy Belland

“

Isn’t Sydney great, though?” gushes guitaristvocalist Sean Maxey of the Doers as he recounts past touring glories. “We played at the Steelworker’s Hall – the event was called Gobblefest. I expect The Nerve to twist that into something…” But no, this writer assures Mr. Maxey that we’d never take the sophomoric knee-jerk approach and turn a cute Thanksgiving event from the Maritimes into a lame-ass joke about fellatio. Not us. Not now. We’re a kinder, more loving magazine these days. But I guess it puts a new light on the term herring-chokers, heh-heh… Not five months since they unleashed their last record on the indie rockers of Vansterdam (the 500-copy limited edition EP The Plastic Bass), those tireless completionists we know and love as the Doers are unveiling yet another brandspanking-new 19-song CD Whatcha Doin’? with a release party at the mighty Railway Club on

Friday April 14th (with special guest, G7’s Greg MacPherson). Recorded in less than three days last May, Whatcha Doin’? has all the wonderful Doersy motifs we’ve come to expect from the Artists-Formerly-Known-asStation-A. Bandleader / songwriter Sean Maxey’s excitable acoustic guitar attack and shout-along harmony vocals, Barry Higginson’s brilliant and melodically propulsive basslines, the iron-glove-cast-invelvet vocals of Sarah Jane… and a song entitled “Handjob at Sunset.” Not quite Jeff Buckley, perhaps, but this ain’t no fuckin’ Rupert Holmes, either. “Nineteen songs in 41 minutes,” Maxey states proudly. That’s an average of just over two minutes per song, which should bring smiles to the spirits of both Joey Ramone and Johnny Cash. Exciting changes are afoot in the Doers camp: founding drummer Jerf split from the band on good terms over the wintertime to admirably undertake fulltime fatherhood in Edmonton; now kickstarting the Doers’ hearts is Joy (extrapster for the Automatic Fancy). The Doers’ Railway Club show will be the kickoff for their Trans-Canada tour, which sees them traipsing out to Sydney NS and back (most shows with Sudbury’s Varge)… five weeks in a cramped-in minivan with a bearded beatnik, a redheaded illustrator, and two young women who are braver than most to spend five weeks in a cramped-in minivan with a bearded beatnik and a redheaded illustrator. But isn’t that what Canadian indie-rock dreams are made of these days? n

Big John Bates and the Voodoo Dollz April Fools and Rebels Rule!

The Robosexuals Their Mother’s Upset with This Modern World, She Doesn’t Understand Their Taste in Girls

By Ferdy Belland

“

We just finished recording a 5-song EP at the Cadeaux vocalist Katie Lapi. “We’re naming Hive with Jesse Gander,” explains guitaristthe tables at our wedding reception after bands vocalist Shane Phillipson of the Robosexuals, and artists who’ve influenced us,” he explains proudly. “It’s a story cycle called 1000 Days. It’s happily. This writer hopes to sneak a seat at the about a young boy who’s imprisoned alone in Chumbawumba table, but only if there’s no room a fallout shelter for three years by his paranoid at the Lou Bega table. military father during the Cold War.” “The next show we do, we’ll probably Whoa. Heady stuff. But this is not deadly oldpromote it ourselves – sometime in May. And I’d like to say that anyone who shows up at our school Tales from a Topographical Ocean-style excess. Read on: shows dressed as a robot gets in free.” He means “The story starts when he’s first locked in, it, too. One can only imagine the hallucinatory and how as the years go by he’s communicating atmosphere created in an Asbalt crowded with blinking, clanking, shuffling underground-rock with ghosts… or maybe he’s going crazy. You’re robots crowding amongst each other to the rattle not quite sure. And then he gets out, and has and roar of the Robosexuals… Hieronymus a hard time dealing with it. He always thought Bosch storyboarding the Mos Eisley Cantina. everyone else was dead. He could have always Never would you find a more wretched hive of unlocked the hatch to the fallout shelter, but he was scared to, because of what his father drilled scum and villainy; you must be cautious. into him – he would die unless he END NOTE: Shane “Anyone who waited three years to open the Phillipson assures this writer that shows up at our the Robosexuals did not take their door.” Socio-political comment isn’t name from a side-B track on the shows dressed a common theme that pops up as a robot gets in 1980 album City Kids from obscure in the collaborative songcraft of East Coast power-pop nobodies free.” the Robosexuals, but then again Sterling. This is almost too bad; there’s not much this oddball-yetthis writer loved that song to pieces inspired Vancouver band is afraid of. Formed (despite heaped derision from former hesherby Phillipson (ex-Closed Caption Radio) and skid friends). Shane Phillipson assures this vocalist-bassist Shaun Bristow (ex-Unclean writer that this long-shot reference (most folks Wiener), the Robosexuals (rounded out by fellow think of Bender from Futurama) is intriguing droid-fuckers Mark Karpinski on drums and ex- enough to possibly galvanize the Robosexuals Pluto guitarist Rolf Hetherington) meld the bold into adding said song to their live set. Might this melodic muscle of the Archers of Loaf with the truly happen? Talk about Deux es Machina… n dissonant brilliance of Sonic Youth and turn all sorts of otherworldly influences into a band whose sound and stance are difficult to pinpoint, harder to criticize, and impossible to beat – as proven with their recent explosive Asbalt show in January with Foster Kare. “We’re working on releasing the EP for the summer,” Phillipson continues, “But we’d like to have it on a label… a major indie like Touch and Go would be nice, if we had a wish list. But that’ll happen later, once the mastering’s done.” In the meantime, the local live appearances from the Robosexuals will be select; the lucky Phillipson is Worst CGI ever engaged to be married this summer to the lovely

PHOTO: SHAUN BRISTON / SHANE PHILLIPSON

Whatcha Doer - in’?

tremor the evening of Saturday April 1st at the Lamplighter Pub in Gastown, thus igniting another tour of rock’n’roll duty on the Highway to Hell. “I couldn’t imagine doing the band without sCare-oline,” remarks Bates wistfully on his band’s sensually serpentine upright bassist, who smacks the doghouse with vim and vigor while belly-dancing in the finest Arabian Nights fantasy style, strutting atop murder stilettos and catseye spectacles. “She’s been with me since the beginning, and will probably be around until the bitter end. The whole thing really started when she joined.” Bates’ psychobilly trio is rounded out by current drummer Chris ‘Von Warunkenstein’ Warunki, but the visual prizes are often awarded to the Voodoo Dollz, the onstage antics of which make the Bates Motel open for business. Little Miss Risk (now a seasoned veteran of over 70 Bates gigs) and her new assistant Lil Luvroc are the latest two (of a series of at least a dozen previous) cast members of the Voodoo Dollz, Bates’ eyeball-popping burlesquedancing onstage accoutrements who make even the most hardened Whalley bruiser splutter in his beer as the dancers set themselves afire while pulling off the naughtiest saucy-cheesecake skits admissible by current decency standards…no word of a lie; all this is done while some manic rocker bashes the shit out a drum-kit, a hellbound Lisa Loeb-alike holds down the bottom end on a bass fiddle she’s grinding herself into, and some overgrown juvenile delinquent - possibly from Maple Ridge - deafens the downtown core with the earsplitting howl of a Gretsch Black Falcon (Bates is sponsored by both Gretsch and Jagermeister!)… the manic performance of the Cramps, filtered through the visionary lens of Russ Meyers, or Irving Klaw. It’s

a winning combination that cannot be beat, and has seen Bates & Co. through a high-octane blur of a holy-fuck career since 2001 - three albums, 330 shows, and no less than four successful European tours. “We’re doing pretty well for ourselves overseas,” notes Bates. “The Europeans were supporting us way back. Our German label (Wolverine Records) is very good to us, and gives us a lot of support, so we’ve done an advance release there for our upcoming Eurotour…number five! It’s not necessarily better in Europe, per se…Germany, Switzerland, and Norway have great, excitable, sweaty, dangerous audiences for us – but so does Alberta, you know? Western Canada is all good for us, and in the States we play from Spokane to Detroit quite regularly. We did a Texas tour for the first time last year, and that was pretty cool. Them Texans sure like their rock and roll!” When asked about the local psychobilly scene and his place within it, Bates admits: “We don’t play Vancouver that much, sad to say. The last show was at the Red Room, which sold out with 400 people. We can’t really play the Railway Club or the Marine Club - only because the floors will cave in with all the people!” This isn’t spoken with ego – this is the truth; Bates & Co. are one of the all-time largest draws in the local rock world, and they’re expected to remain as such for a long time to come. “We played the Morrissey in November and it was absolutely crazy – there had to have been 200 people inside the joint and an hour-long wait in the lineup outside to get in! It’s just so great that so many people want to come out and see us, time and again…but I do miss the old Starfish Room.” Don’t we all, John - don’t we all. n

“No hot rods – I’ve got a good collection of classic guitars, though!”

By Ferdy Belland

ancouver’s rockabilly / shockabilly / psychobilly scene may not be swarming with mass numbers to regularly pack the Commodore Ballroom with, but it’s always quality over quantity. Loosely centered at the Railway Club and the (World Famous) Marine Club (conveniently only two blocks apart), there exists a young cabal of Lower Mainland folks who believe that nothing good has happened - musically or otherwise - since about 1958 or so (despite the fact that most of their birthdates happened after 1970), and who feel that modern music, fashions, and general lifestyles need to keep those bygone days of greaser yesteryear alive and well, and kicking it deep into the Novus Ordo Seclorum, half a century down the lost highway (Sleepy LaBeef, Carl Perkins, Brian Setzer, and the Reverend Horton Heat

are in – Ricky Nelson, Charlie Rich’s post-1961 output, the Fonzie Favorites compilation, and Phantom, Rocker, and Slick are definitely OUT). And then there are those locals who just like flame-job tattoos and duck’s ass pompadours and overdriven hollow-body guitars and roaring engines and a Lucky (or a Camel) dangling insolently from a sneering lip. Such a fellow is the notorious Vancouver psychobilly kahuna known as Big John Bates, who’s here to testify. “Why not use April Fool’s Day to launch our tour?” asks Big John Bates on his band’s upcoming road-trip to promote the release of his third, Take Your Medicine (on Bates’ own label, Devil Sauce Recordings). And I guess that’s all the explanation he needs. Bates, his band, and his trusty burlesque accompanists (the Voodoo Dollz) will light up the night in a grand tremolo

The Nerve April 2006 Page 25

CONTENTS

From Fiction

Guess which one is going after the BIG banana? By Cameron Gordon

ith a name that sounds scholarly and a cellar of jagged indie rock tunes at its disposal, you can understand how From Fiction could be misconstrued as a “math rock” band. Yet attend one of their gigs and you’ll soon discover that these fellas have a lot more in common with hard rock and punk than music based on angles and that goddamn Pythagorean Theorem. “It’s a funny thing with the ‘math rock’ labels

because I’ve always seen ourselves as a straightup hard rock band,” says Quentin Ede, who plays guitar and sings with the Toronto four-piece. “We might use certain time signatures to accentuate different points in the songs but when you start throwing an idea like ‘math rock’ around, it gets pretty vague when you start seeing other bands that get those same labels. Most of them sound nothing like us.” From Fiction came together in the early

Such Fresh

“Our sound tends to divide the crowd.”

By Cameron Gordon

By Jenna James

The Nerve April 2006 Page 26

Bloodwork was recorded in Chicago with producer-to-the-stars Steve Albini (Nirvana, Pixies, Urge Overkill), giving From Fiction the unique distinction of being the only band in history to hit the studio with both Albini and Toronto mainstay Ian Blurton, who produced the band’s debut (in case you’re wondering, Albini had previously worked with such Canadian talent as the Sadies, Thrush Hermit and Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet). In response to the differences between these two knob twiddlers, Ede says, “Ian is a producer first and foremost - giving us ideas about how to structure the songs. But with Steve, he’d just set the mics up and you’d go for it. A lot more hands-off than Ian was. Luckily, both were very relaxed dudes and helped create a great environment to record in.” From Fiction has its first shows stateside planned for mid-April, opening for labelmates Metric in such farflung destinations as Cincinnati and Madison, Wisconsin. They seem like odd bedfellows on paper, but luckily, From Fiction always has a game plan, even when touring partners seem non-linear. “Generally when we play outside of our core fans, our sound tends to divide the crowd. Half the crowd will heckle us and the other half will love us. There’s no middle ground so we just play our set and see what happens. We’re not about to start moving our set around to suit the crowd.”

Upper Canadian Blues Music Notes from In, Out and Around Toronto

Antics

oronto’s street punk reprobates the Antics were scheduled for their second two-hour interview on PunkRadioCast. It dragged on for seven hours, resulting in an entire studio of pissed-off PunkRadioCast staff members, several spilled beers, and more than a few nude scenes. Their very arrival indicated how much of a disaster this would turn out to be. Pulling up to the studio in a grey beater, the Antics nearly exterminated a small child who wandered onto the road in search of his ball. Once inside, Chris Rex, Keith and T-Rexxx made it clear that they were in rough shape after a three-day binge. We thought we would help them out and grabbed them a 2-4 of the cheapest beer. Good idea. The first time I had the Antics come out to my show was an experience similar to the first time my mom read The Nerve, in the sense that she will never support that part of my career again. The famed “anal escapade” as it’s known around here has given T-Rexx an ego boost. I set up his microphone and without hesitation he eagerly explained, “Ever since I put my fingers in my ass, I have fans!” (see pic) Aside from shoving his fingers in his anus, classic T-Rexx moments will often include trying to have sex with your younger sister, making passes at your girlfriend, and urinating in inappropriate places. And ladies, I would suggest keeping an eye on your drinks, since I’m personally inclined to NOT take his roofie jokes so lightly anymore. If you ever encounter a situation in which T-Rexx gets out of hand, sidetrack him with a debate about horror movies. Be warned, however: make sure you know your shit before you put him to the test. Hiding behind that façade of “anal terrorist” – his description - T-Rexx is a post-secondary film student with a goal to generate his own horror films upon graduation. Within their two-hour time slot, I couldn’t get anything worth quoting out of these boys. Sorry. They spent the whole time chugging $1 beers, making explicit sexual passes, snorting rails of imported chocolate, and eventually taking

2000’s when Ede moved to Toronto to reconnect with his old classmate Adam Barnes. The pair met in a Saskatchewan high school years earlier and saw fit to reprise their musical partnership, with both sides singing the songs and playing the guitar. Owen Marchildon (bass) and Rob Gordon (drums) soon doubled the roster and before long, the band hit the road to work out the kinks and excise their tunes, one Canadian city at a time. “It’s always been about touring and playing the shows for us,” says Ede with regards to the band’s touring schedule, which really hasn’t taken an extended break in four years. “Our music is really best understood live and it’s important for us to play in as many towns as possible. Even when we’re in the studio, we really try to capture the sound and the feel you’d experience at one of our shows.” The band’s debut full-length Bloodwork was just released on Last Gang Records and while it doesn’t quite reach the frenetic highs of a typical From Fiction gig, it does demonstrate the band’s sizable chops and offers the chance to hear a talented young band finding its sound. And because of Last Gang’s partnership with Universal Music, the band will avoid the scarcity issues that plagued their eponymous, self-issued debut EP. “Distribution right across North America was a real key for everyone in the band,” confirms Ede. “We really want to make a go of it with this album and we had found with the EP, releasing it yourself is really freakin’ hard.”

complete control of my show and the one following while I slept on the office couch. Despite being annoyed with their idiotic one-liners, I can at least appreciate the time they spent entertaining our listeners instead of shamelessly plugging the shit out of everything possible. When I asked about their summer tour with South Carolina’s the Independents, for instance, Keith sarcastically commented, “For a month, every day they were bothering us. They aren’t even getting paid. They were like, ‘Do you guys want to play some shows with us in Canada?’ We were like, ‘No,’ but we finally gave in and said we would do it.” In reality, Evil Presly was traveling as the Queers merchandise girl extraordinaire when he saw the Antics open the band’s Toronto date. On top of the support they received from Toronto’s Wounded Paw Records, it should at least be said that the Antics are surprisingly competent as well as permanently drunk, and manage their DIY music career with admirable self-sufficiency. In addition to booking their summer Independents tour, they have taken the initiative to arrange Toronto dates with A Global Threat and DOA. Pretty good for a bunch of rectally obsessed fuckwits, no? Good work! n

fter a bit of consternation and a bile bubbling two-night stand at the Horseshoe Tavern alongside the Constantines, the Deadly Snakes’ long promised 2 x LP version of Porcella is finally available. When the CD version of the album was released last fall, the Snakes had shed their garage-y scales in favour of something more akin to Nick Cave, Leonard Cohen or a Parkdale pervert in search of his latest blue plate special. Expect more of the same on this double helping, released on In the Red Records… The dudes in Goat Horn have been breaking a lot of stuff lately but all in the name of good, moody metal. And while it’s just barely springtime, they’ve already been jotting down plans for the summer. Likely in pig’s blood. The Horn is slated to play the Headbanger’s Open Air Festival in Germany this July. In the meantime, expect some local ass-kicking and gigging. They also have some nifty new hats available at their merch stand - very fetching... Don’t be surprised if the young men and women of Spiral Beach become the new “it” band amongst Toronto’s indie elite. Maybe they already have? Who the fuck knows? Anyway, the four piece just played an absolutely smoking set at Canadian Music Week where their loopy pop tunes upstaged more established bill-mates, Cuff the Duke and the Old Soul. The band’s selftitled full length is now available online and if that’s not enough, the band will be playing the annual Hillside Festival this summer... As reported first by Ben Rayner from the Toronto Star, the members of Bunnymen-esque retro superstars Chalk Circle recently got together, bashed away at their guitars a bit and felt pretty good about the whole thing afterwards. Nothing set in stone (or in Chalk, as it were) but there is a chance the fellas might put in a gig or two before they lose this love buzz. Chalk Circle’s last full-length record was 1989’s As the Crow Flies… On a somber note, the Toronto music community lost a

bonafied asset with the mid-winter passing of exTrans Love Airways guitarist Steve Banks from heart failure. For a time in the mid-1990’s, TLA were thee epitome of what a Canadian rock ‘n’ roll band should be: loud, trippy, a little bit left of centre yet a little bit populist as well. And while the band wasn’t seen and/or heard by enough people during its tenure, TLA did leave its own unique dent in the Canrock armory. Steve also played with punk loudmouths the Ministry of Love and was an accomplished visual artist as well. He was 46. n

Deadly!

CONTENTS

Foster Kare / Karen Foster Three Beat(nik)s to the Wind

It’s all about composition By Ferdy Belland

ne of the all-time best Vancouver releases of 2005 was an album hand-packaged in an initial run of 80 by the band that created it. The album was In Formation Go the Heard, and the band was (and remains) the mighty Foster Kare – drummer Jason Dana, bassist Bryan McCallum, and vocalist/guitarist Chad MacQuarrie (who are reverting to their original band name of Karen Foster for their upcoming May shows, FYI). As much of an intellectual mission statement as it is a dynamite power-trio that belts out angry, mesmerizingly intense art/emo/prog/whatever-the-hell-you-wishto-name-it music, Foster Kare - who C’mon’s Ian Blurton compares favourably to Drive Like Jehu - evolved out of the early collaborations of Chad and Bryan, who also play in Assertion. This writer

Mr. Plow M

was blessed enough to witness the new band’s live debut at the sadly-defunct Cobalt (RIP) on a forever-to-be-remembered bill that featured Goatsblood, Raking Bombs, and Gods Among Men. What was left in the memory was not only MacQuarrie’s howling roar of a voice, but the unmatched sound of a Fender Telecaster, of all things, clanging and chunking and shaking the fillings free from all molars in attendance. Inventive arrangements and some of the tightest musicianship to be found across the city’s hardcore/metal/etc underground - and they came out with a cacophonously intelligent concept album to boot. Who knew? When speaking of the national praise gathered by other unique and edgy Vancouver artists (such as Black Mountain), and whether Foster

Kare might garner such deserved attention for its own, Chad MacQuarrie quickly reveals himself as one of the more profoundly intelligent personalities in the Vancouver scene, with an outlook as sharp as his guitar tone. “I think it’s more realistic to not ignore the fact that those are arbitrary designations media people make, based on whatever non-musical allegiances,” MacQuarrie says. “We all know of bands that are just great that never ‘made it’ anywhere from lack of support, not from lack of quality or lack of musical conviction. It’s all over the place and you see it all the time. It makes them become more scarce – and precious – and these are bands I value more than anything.” “If all these bands belted out such fantastic music, and nothing happened for them,” offers Jason Dana, Foster Kare’s ‘new kid’ who’s been bashing traps with Bonhamesque aplomb since early 2004, “Then maybe they didn’t help their band and their music happen. You have to help yourself if you want to do anything.” “Conceptually,” MacQuarrie continues, “Three or four people really bonding together like a family and really pooling everything they have together to do this one thing… It’s really unusual. Without some sort of media or industry support… Personality Crisis could’ve been like NoMeansNo; a lot of bands could’ve been like NoMeansNo, but they didn’t have commitment to themselves. And I’ve been doing this since I was 18, and I’ve never achieved that sort of single-minded band focus before. Before now, that is.” “My mom gave me a car for Christmas,” says bassist McCallum, who adds with a smile:

“But I’m going to sell it so we can buy a van instead. It makes touring all that much easier.” “Bryan and I have toured with Karen Foster and Assertion, but we haven’t yet hit the road with Foster Kare. The old plan with the old bands was to do it once a year, coast to coast, and it wasn’t too feasible – lack of band commitments; it’s a very hard, intense solidarity to achieve. It’s a tremendous sacrifice for everybody to pool their resources all the time. NoMeansNo are a very unusual example of a band achieving what they have, being truly independent. The Wright Brothers are folk heroes in a culture where folk heroes are an endangered species. Experiencing them as an adolescent was like running into a Sasquatch in Stanley Park – a Sasquatch who invites you into his cave for the rawest, most pure meal one could consume. Ever since that show I’ve wanted to be that sort of sasquatch myself, carrying the torch of realness amongst a multitude of opportunistic fucking weasels.” The discourse arcs back to touring. “I totally believe that a good artist has to travel to keep their art alive,” MacQuarrie tells me. “I was reading Rumi verses on the bus the other day and came across this line: if the sun and moon lurked unmoving as solid rock, what kind of light could they hope to bestow? Coincidence or serendipity?” This comes from someone who describes his band as ‘an organic emotional freak-out preformed by crybabies.’ “I’ve sorted success and sorted failure, in spite of the queer cadences I’ve squeezed through,” says McQuarrie, “but I’m proud of the things I’ve done.” n

“Experiencing NoMeansNo as an adolescent was like running into a Sasquatch in Stanley Park.”

I’ve Been Everywhere I’ve Been Everywhere

By Chris Walter

Mr. Plow got his start in ‘97, when his punk outfit, Dwayne Dibly and His Magical Hairy Areolas, was the house band at the Columbia Hotel. “The owner was too cheap and lazy to look for another band, so we got stuck with the gig,” he says, thinking back to those crazy, beery days. “At first we played mostly for drunks and crackheads, but we started to get a bit of a following. After a while, we had our own drunks and crackheads!” Eventually, Plow decided to go acoustic because the music was too fast and noisy and no one could hear the words. He thinks carefully when I ask if he wanted to turn down the amplifiers because the lyrics were good. “No,” he says, “but I wanted people to hear them anyway.” Essentially, Mr. Plow is Dwayne Dibly and his Magical Hairy Areolas unplugged. When I ask Mr. Plow about hecklers, of which there must surely be a few, I can hear him scratching his whiskered chin over the phone. “Actually, hecklers can help win the crowd over. When some fool starts running his mouth, they sometimes feel sorry for me and put the loudmouth in his place. Then they feel a kinship with me and I have them in my pocket. In fact, I was going to take my own heckler and a carefully rehearsed script on the road with me. It was a surefire plan but at the last minute I decided it was too

“Everyone farts. Even Mayor Sam Sullivan, who farts into a bag.”

much trouble.” The majority of Mr. Plow’s lyrics are sexual in nature, with a good smattering of fart jokes and other bathroom humour thrown in for good measure. When I ask him if he thinks fart jokes are funny, he doesn’t pause for long. “Girl farts are funnier than guy farts because everyone knows that guys “The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round...” fart, but girls try to pretend that unruly drunks and rowdy punks from the Asbalt they don’t. But everyone farts, even Mayor Sam Hotel for his friend Wendy Thirteen. Indeed, with Sullivan, who farts into a bag. They just love fart his solo career, the record label, and the gig as jokes down in Sioux City, Iowa.” And who can arcelebrity bouncer at the Asbalt, it’s a wonder that gue with that? he has time to eat (he manages somehow). It will Crusty Records, which started as a joke eight years ago, has released CDs by such notables be a cold day in hell before you’ll find Plow playing house in Maple Ridge. as Alcoholic White Trash, Aging Youth Gang, Now, as this article comes to a close, I invite Johnny Sizzle, the Chick Magnets, and Offyou to heckle Mr. Plow when he comes to your day. Mr. Plow is about to release his latest eftown, but don’t be surprised when the crowd fort, Chairman Plow at the end of April, and an tears you a new one. And Mr. Plow will laugh, acoustic compilation entitled Acrustic Age Vol 2 as well. Occasionally, you can find him evicting HO HO HO! n PHOTO: JENN DODDS

r. Plow must be insane. Why else would he forsake a duplex in Maple Ridge and 2.5 children in order to perform in every hick town across North America for chump change and free beer? He could spend three or four hours a day commuting from his office job in the city to be with his nagging wife and a pack of squalling ankle biters. Yes indeed, Mr. Plow could trade his Takamine acoustic guitar for a lawn chair and a flock of pink lawn flamingos. With his SUV and his safe suburban home, it would be a serene and fulfilling existence, complete with barbeques on Sunday and neighbours borrowing tools. Second thought, driving through the Rocky Mountains with only his new touring partner, B.A. Johnson, for company doesn’t sound so bad when faced with the possibility of life without parole in Maple Ridge. In fact, Mr. Plow seems quite cheerful as he prepares to embark on yet another gruelling journey across the Canadian hinterland. His Chevy van, less than a year old, already has 56,000 kilometres on it, and this tour promises to add many more. When I suggest that he should settle down and plant some roots, he chuckles as if I had asked him to light his hair on fire and run around naked. “I’m not quite ready to call it a day yet,” he says, and I can just imagine his evil grin on the other end of the phone.

The Nerve April 2006 Page 27

The Nerve April 2006 Page 28

MUSICCONTENTS REVIEWS SHOUT OUT OUT OUT OUT

Oneida Pat’s Pub, Vancouver, BC Friday, March 17th, 2006 For whatever reasons, I failed to notice on my calendar that this Oneida show fell on the same night as Saint Patrick’s Day – a festivity so loathed by me, it’s a genuine miracle that I even made it out of the house. By the time we finally made it down to Pat’s, my mood was slowly starting to perk up. You’d be surprised by how much a sour disposition can be alleviated with a few whiskey shots mixed with a House of Pain/Dropkick Murphy’s mash-up. Sadly for me, that quick fix was about to come to a crashing halt the minute opening act Leviathans took the stage. This Vancouver “free metal” collective features a member of P:ano and some dude that works at Zulu and probably another dude that works at Zulu - it was quite hard to tell, though, because they wore masks similar to those worn by foreign captives in Iraq. Was this supposed to be some lame attempt at controversy? Or were they just putting their art-degrees to good use? Not to mention that the lead singer was dressed in a black burqa, howling some nonsense, probably something “guttural”. I have no idea what and I don’t care to know. I think they played for about 10 minutes. Honestly I was too busy yawning and thinking about what I was going to have for dinner this week to actually keep track of their set time. By the time I got around to mentally preparing my Beef Stroganoff for Wednesday, the Christa Min took the stage with their by-the-numbers psycherock that has already been played to death by the likes of the Brian Jonestown Massacre, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, all of Detroit, your step-father’s wedding band and everyone that owns a copy of High Fidelity. I was actually surprised to hear that the band was playing original songs – and even more surprised that I actually remained semi-focused on their entire set. I sulked for a while, as any grown man in this situation would do, and washed my bitterness down with a couple of 1L bottles of Heineken (kudos, barkeep). Any other night, this would have been the perfect antidote for any degree of misery, but as the Irish luck would have it, nothing was going to turn this night around. Brooklyn’s Oneida got off to a rough start – the sound was atrocious (mind you, this is to be expected from Pat’s). The vocals were washed out and incomprehensible while the general vibe was drunken and tired. Things eventually picked up when the band launched into “Caesar’s Column” with its pounding drums and scattered organ blips, but it still couldn’t reach its maximum potential. The material from Secret Wars and The Wedding were the strongest, but at such a short set (40 minutes or

thereabouts) Oneida could barely make a dent in its extensive catalogue. Anyone who caught the group’s mind-blowing performance at Richard’s last year would tell you that tonight’s show was more like a watching a band practice – this was half on/half off. Overall, this was a waste of a night – a culmination of wank opening bands, a sound system that shouldn’t be used on anyone, and a unanimous response of drunken indifference. Phooey. - Adam Simpkins P.O.S. Buffalo Club, Vancouver, BC Thursday, March 9th, 2006 P.O.S. and his Doomtree members played before an intimate crowd many would recognize from Monday nights at the Lamplighter. While DJ Moves and Rhek spun records, P.O.S. was mingling with the fans like he dished out $12 to get in. Sims kicked off the show, wide-and-pinkeyed, questioning Vancouverites on their ability to dress themselves in the morning, given the intensity of our chronic. Halfway through Mac Lethal’s set, the show evolved into Vancouver Idol, and Aspire (from local group Imaginations Treetrunk) was invited up to freestyle. Before we could dial 1-800-ASPIRE1, Slam poet Barbara Adler performed a hilarious soliloquy about her body and the sleazy motel that it is. P.O.S. delivered what was expected: an adrenaline shot of smart, abrasive hiphop. He started by dragging a black box to the center of the stage. He called it his “confidence box” and stood on it every time he got nervous. He spent very little time on that box. Afterwards, P.O.S. was at the bar doing shots with the leftovers. My highlight of the night was witnessing Mac Lethal’s biggest fan getting booted for publicly rolling a joint, and then later seeing him outside with his ear pressed to the metal door, trying to visualize Lethal on stage and match it to the muffled sound from the

Globe and Mail as the heralds of Canada’s “next Montreal” (please no), but whatever it was, I could barely get a drink at the bar because of all the people. Even the coatcheck was sold out! The lack of booze and the sweat generated by all of the patrons stuck wearing their winter coats mattered little as soon as Shout Out Out Out Out hit the stage. Armed with three bassists, two live drummers, a drum machine, more synths than could be counted and a vocoder, they whipped the crowd into a dance-gasmic frenzy. Lead singer Nik Kozub flailed and karate kicked to the beat like that spastic kid in the back of your Grade Three class while baby-faced drummers Clint and Gravy laid down that aforesaid beat with aplomb. The basses helped pound out crowd favourites such as “Nobody Calls Me Unless they Want Something”, as well as brand new tracks like “Forever Indebted”, until all the kids from the front to the back all the way to the balcony were one steamy sloppy mess. Although some of Edmonton’s ‘hipperthan-thou’ types might have previously pretended to not see what all of the fuss was about, they sure shut the fuck up after this show. None of them could even remember when they didn’t just love the fat beats being generated by Edmonton’s new favourite sons. If you thought that Hot Hot Heat played dance punk, you might as well throw away your white loafers because you got cheated (it’s ok - so did I). Shout Out Out Out Out is like a Christmas gift to Canada - Bryan Carroll The Sisters of Mercy Commodore Ballroom, Vancouver, BC Sunday, March 26th, 2006 I managed to miss Rob Dickinson. Completely. I justified it to myself by the fact that I never cared for Catherine Wheel. Apparently he just got up on stage with his

probably have no intention of recording. Given their reputation for arrogance, this didn’t surprise me in the least. They didn’t play “Temple of Love” or “Vision Thing” until the second encore. This, by the way, was easily the quietest show I have ever been to. It’s rare to be in the front row, discussing the fact that a band has no bass player, and have someone politely ask you to shut the fuck up. The Sisters weren’t exactly disappointing, but I can’t say I was impressed either. Decent performance, lackluster set list, and nowhere near loud enough. My sympathies to those Sisters fans who act like complete dicks – the diehard ones who apparently feel that anything less than blind subservience to a creaky old goth act deserves a good kicking. - Simon Illrote The Rebel Spell The Asbalt, Vancouver, BC Wednesday, March 8th, 2006 Wow, anyone who thinks that punk is dead should go to the Asbalt on Friday night (thanks, Emily). Of course, Wendy’s policy that anyone with a mohawk gets in free doesn’t help any – even Merrick the Lum was sporting a ‘hawk. Anyway, when we got there, local rowdies the Draft were ripping it up and making a hell of a racket. If you like your punk rock fast and noisy, ya gotta love the Draft. But where did you get those pants, Mya. I’m blind! Then the Jolts were up but they had just started when Ashtrey (Neo Nasties) hit singer Joey Belladonna in the face with a pie. Joey was a pretty good sport about the whole thing considering the attack was completely unwarranted and unexpected. It turned out that Ashtrey meant to pie Todd Rebel Spell but got the wrong guy. Shit, not only did Ashtrey get the wrong guy, he got the wrong band! They must put something in that beer. Oh yeah, they do: alcohol. When the Jolts started up again, they proceeded to lay a very catchy handful

THE JOLTS

PHOTO: JENN DODDS

Art Brut Richard’s on Richards, Vancouver, BC Friday, March 24th, 2006 I walked into Richard’s on Richards and two-piece industrial pop rock act Gil Mantera’s Party Dream was half way through its set and half naked. Programmer Gil Mantera wore wrestler tights and a mesh halter-top while lead singer singer/guitarist Ultimate Donny was shirtless and wore leather pants. The two bumped and grinded, there was a vocoder duet, handclaps, American Idol style note holding and ample faggotry. It was like Chromeo with more passion, less irony, and no suspicion that you’re being duped by Vice Magazine. Though in this case I’m probably being duped by the drummer from the Black Keys who released Gil Manters’s album Bloodsongs on his Audio Eagle label. With each consecutive song they shed an article of clothing till they were in their ginch. During the last song Gil Mantera reached into his underwear, removed one of his gloves, and left it in there while fondling himself. Amazing. They stopped short of whipping their cocks out which, of course, left the entire audience wanting more, or maybe just me. Gil Mantera’s Party Dream’s performance was as homoerotic as it was amazing, and I had to buy a shirt just so I could remember their God awful name. Then Art Brut came on. They started jamming “Enter Sandman” which segued into “Formed a Band.” After that lead singer Eddie Argos tried to field some questions from the audience but all he got was a request to play “My Little Brother”, which he obliged. Argos then declared, “Fuck the set list,” and performed self-declared hits off of Bang Bang Rock & Roll, which Argos told us we should all download because he’s independently wealthy. To mix it up, so it wasn’t simply them playing every song off their only album, they performed some new songs that Argos confidently predicted will be Top of the Pops. The Arctic Monkeys have the fortune after selling 120,000 albums in 24 hours. Pete Doherty has the fame as his face is on the cover of at least two of London’s 20 papers on any given day. But Art Brut’s Eddie Argos is the real star and his performance proved it. He can’t sing very well and he isn’t attractive but he’s the only frontman from the new crop of Brit rockers that I dig who isn’t totally replaceable. He’s got a charismatic arrogance that makes him totally likable and has me genuinely rooting for him to become a star.For an encore Art Brut played “Good Weekend” which was as climatic a performance as one can have at a show where you’re booted out at 10 pm. During the extended version of the song, Argos lead a “Top of the Pops” chant that gave props to Bryan Adams and B.T.O. Later, Argos demanded everyone in the audience go home and

form a band because when he comes back to Vancouver he’s going to ask us if we’re in bands, and warned that “if you fucking dare say no to me I’ll be very disappointed.” Well I’m going to do just that and my band is going to be a careful mixture of Art Brut and Gil Mantera’s Party Dream. After the show I got Ultimate Donny and Eddie Argos to sign a poster for me. Next time I see those bitches they’ll be asking for my autograph. Show of the year. - Michael Mann

LIVE other side. - Omar Mouallem

Shout Out Out Out Out The Powerplant, Edmonton, AB Friday, March 10th, 2006 Fresh off of their first place finish (whatever that means) at Canadian Music Week, Edmonton’s Shout Out Out Out Out returned home triumphantly for a free show put on by CBC Radio 3. Edmonton’s most underutilized venue, The Powerplant, was packed to the tits for quite possibly the first time ever. Perhaps it was the free-ness, perhaps it was the hype generated by Shout Out Out Out Out (sometimes affectionately known as SO4 - sulfate ion to nerds) being featured in the

guitar by himself, which is probably rad if you really liked his band, but I imagine it wouldn’t have done much for me. The Sisters of Mercy eventually emerged from a thick artificial fog that lasted the whole show, occasionally absorbing frontman Andrew Eldritch and both new guitarists. I expected them to have a bass player, but if their drum machine has served them so well all these years, I guess pre-recorded bass loops is the next step. Speaking of the line-up – or lack thereof - the absence of unofficial roadie and all-round hanger-on Princess and his supply of trucker-grade Colombian marching powder was quite noticeable. Eldritch and Co. cycled through most of their classics, and some new ones they

of rock/garage songs on us. Why did no one tell me these guys were so good? This band is highly underrated. Next, the Rebel Spell, reigning kings and queens of Vancouver punk rock, got up and blasted us all to hell. This band just gets heavier and more intense every time I see them and I can’t say enough good things so I’ll shut the fuck up. They have raised the bar for punk rock so high that it is very hard for new bands to make the grade. The only downside of the evening was that the cops gave Wendy a thousand-dollar fine for some bullshit or another. Please e-mail those fuckwads at City Hall and tell them to leave the Asbalt alone. mayorandcouncil@vancouver.ca - Chris Walter

The Nerve April 2006 Page 29

CONTENTS ones as well. Anyone who digs Agnostic Front will love this and anyone who doesn’t is a poopy head. So there. - Chris Walter

A Global Threat Where the Sun Never Sets BYO In 1983, when I was sleeping on Mark Stern’s floor in Hollywood, it never occurred to me that he and his brothers would still be running BYO Records 23 years later, and I certainly never dreamed that I’d be reviewing their latest release. The Sterns’ always did have good taste, and they prove it again with A Global Threat. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m not more familiar with this Boston band because I see their patches on almost every punk rocker I meet, but somehow they slipped under the radar. On Where the Sun Never Sets, A Global Threat combines a blend of old and new punk styles and come away with something fresh and original. You won’t find AGT hanging out with Good Charlotte or Simple Plan, unless they’re beating them up and taking their equipment away. This is fast and angry, the way punk is supposed to be. Nuff said… - Chris Walter Adair The Destruction of Everything is the Beginning of Something New Warcon The press release included with this CD states that Adair is “a band that would grow to be one of the most powerful forces in rock’s underground music scene”. I had to listen to this CD for all of three minutes before I saw through THAT crock of shit. Adair is pretty much a third rate Story of the Year, who in turn are the epitome of generic emo rock. If you like your generic emo rock possessing all the talent of a junior high battle of the bands, Adair is definitely the band for you. Please kill yourself now. - Derek Bolen Agent Blue A Stolen Honda Vision Fierce Panda Great Britain is the centre of the musical universe. This is not my mere opinion, but FACT. That’s not to say all UK bands are soaked in musical genius, but this debut release from Agent Blue is pretty good all the same. Genre-wise it follows in the footsteps of Swervedriver, Puressence, and Levitation, and at times the vocals are early Bono. “Stolen Honda Vision” merges indie Lush and MBV guitars with punky tunes and expert production (Chris Sheldon of Foo Fighters fame). Sometimes heavy production ruins a band, but the effects work well here, and the Queens of the Stone Age vocals are left alone, keeping it raw. I’d prefer it if they didn’t take themselves so seriously, shortened their song-length and kept away from politics (single “Children’s Children” is Chris Martin cringe-time in the extreme), but, all in all, this stands tall and I can see Agent Blue being huge. - Stephanie Heney

A.J Rosales Resistor Novelty What a yawn-a-thon this CD is. Resistor makes James Blunt sound positively rebellious. One man and his guitar can be wonderful (Springsteen knows how), but not here. If A.J. Rosales had a band it would sound like Train and win a Grammy. To be fair, he wrote the whole album, played every instrument and produced it; no mean feat. His voice could be haunting with the right tunes, but it falls short here. A shame really, his bio reveals him to be a nice chap, and really into the music. It’s just that it doesn’t come across on record and instead of making me want to start a band, it just made me want to make a ham sandwich. - Stephanie Heney Black Sabbath Black Sabbath Greatest Hits 1970 - 1978 Rhino/Wea Guess who needs a new handbag? Or shoes? Or a squirrel-shaped dog? Or whatever it is that dumb Hollywood whores buy in excess? That’s right - it’s Sharon “I saved Ozzy’s life” Osbourne! Sharon has a chunk of Sabbath that makes Yoko Ono call her “a bigger legacy rapist than Yoko Ono.” That bitch deserves a swift kick to the cunt, not your money. The Sabs, of course, were just inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame at the same time as this re-hashing, cash-grabbing bull-shit was released, so clearly it’s an attempt at cross-marketing. But the real units at the record company (which include Sharon) don’t realize that no one cares other than Sabbath fans, aka people who own all the albums from 1970 - 1978. Having dismissed the scumbag jizz juicers then, I must also say this: Black Sabbath gave my balls to the devil and I liked it. If you don’t like the Almighty Sabbath then you’re a pussy or ignorant. Sabbath is the best, and the starting point of the metal genre, spawning a culture that has gone on for almost 40 years now. Please refer to albums like Sabbath Bloody Sabbath and Sabotage, not this Gucci bag-buying legacy rape of a CD. - David Von Bentley Chuckanut Drive The Crooked Mile Home Unsmashable The thing about alt-country that picks my ass is that most bands don’t have a clue about the soul. They play the twang, they bring the pedal steel and the guitjo, and forget the goddamned soul! I swear at the altar of the Lost Church of Gram’s Capo that the soul is what makes it all come into place. Where the Burrito Brothers walked Down the Dark End of the Street, the fellas in Chuckanut Drive deliver a searing concept-driven LP recorded in a church in Bellingham and produced, excellently, by Johnny Sangster. The themes of loneliness, despair, heartbreak, and separation weave in and out of the song cycle like people passing each other on a dark, shitty day. Listen to “Pittsburgh”, “Juanita”, “Back on the Tarmac”, and “Reno To Vegas” and you’ll understand the soul of C&W… - Boy Howdy The Daggers Tear it to Pieces

downstairs is bashing on the ceiling! Fuck, now I gotta play this sucker louder… - Chris Walter

Camp Eel, but maybe they just had to be there. - Adam Simpkins

David P. Smith Striving for a New Tomorrow Northern Electric You never know what to expect out of a band that boasts the use of the almighty accordion. However, I do. I have a bit of a love affair going with the instrument, so my money says whatever it is will be fucking great. Then again I’m also Ukrainian, so it might be a genetic thing. Regardless, Striving for a New Tomorrow is fucking great. David P. Smith has a unique ability to pull comedy from the mundane with lyrics that are both likeably clumsy and weirdly poetic. And although the rootsy, carnival-esque music lends itself to comedy, there is evidence of serious social and personal satire here as well as hints of genuine sadness in several songs. It is this mixture that elevates this album from novelty status. Not everyone will like it, however. This is music for the eccentric. David P. Smith gives me the impression that he has a gamut of strange hobbies, which probably include taxidermy, alcoholism, and being that slightly creepy guy in the park who watches you intently. I also get the impression he masturbated obsessively as a child… maybe still does. Not sure why I picked up on that last one. Gut feeling I guess. - Devon Cody

The Fallout What Is Past Is Prologue Longshot Speedy street punk with songs about homelessness, raising the minimum wage, and racism. This CD is chock full of catchy anthems you can sing along to while smashing the state. I’m liking it. - Chris Walter

Dead and Divine What Really Happened at Lover’s Lane Verona When I saw that Verona Records is owned by Shane Told, singer for emo douchebags Silverstein, I winced a little. Maybe having my expectations so low actually helped this CD, because surprisingly, IT’S PRETTY FUCKING GOOD! Metal riffs reminiscent of Between The Buried and Me + plenty of double-kick + vocals that don’t sound like a weepy 14 year old girl = a good time for all. My only complaint is that at 28 minutes, this album could stand to be a bit longer, especially considering it’s meant to be a concept album, describing ‘a central character witnessing the end of the world’. Hopefully, they’ll be able to come up with more than 28 minutes worth of material for the postapocalyptic sequel. - Derek Bolen Dog Fashion Disco Adultery Rotten Any band fronted by a man who shat on stage and then incited a riot by flinging his own feces into an auditorium full of Twiztid fans gets an A+++ in my books. Surprisingly, Dog Fashion Disco also has the musical chops to back up the pooflinging. Obviously heavily influenced by Mike Patton, Adultery rocks like a blend of Fantomas, System of a Down, and Mindless Self Indulgence, with pockets of jazz, string sections and sound samples thrown in to mix shit up. “Desert Grave” finds the band channeling Johnny Cash, while “Moonlight City Drive” features a driving surf guitar riff and trumpets. One of the most exciting bands I’ve heard for a while, and probably the most unfortunate case of a rad band having a shitty name since the Rainbow Butt Monkeys. - Derek Bolen Eels With Strings: Live at Town Hall Vagrant After releasing a handful of bootleg albums on its website, it seemed only natural for Eels to finally release a labelapproved live album. Perhaps. The band has never been one to delve deeply into rich musical landscapes, or even cause much commotion outside of its devoted fanbase, but keeping it simple has always been part of Eels’ charm. The live experience focuses on frontman E (Mark Everett), sometimes plunking a toy piano or strumming his tiny acoustic guitar – and, of course, don’t forget those strings we paid for. Everett’s weathered voice and hapless tales demand the complete attention of the audience, who politely applaud after such dour run-throughs of “It’s a Motherfucker” and “Suicide Life”. Thankfully the mood picks up during a spot-on cover of the Left Banke’s “Pretty Ballerina” and the amended breakthrough hit “Novocaine for the Soul”. Live at Town Hall won’t exactly bring the naysayers to

Fallout Frequency EP Sloth Okay, I’m not going to mention anybody’s prior bands while reviewing Fallout Frequency’s new five-song EP, because I’m sure they’re all awfully tired of that. But that’s kind of to be expected when three guys from Calgary’s three most prominent defunct punk rock bands (hint: I guarantee you’ve heard of at least one of them, and how many Calgary bands can you say that about?) collaborate. It would be misleading anyway - Fallout Frequency plays indie rock. Usually I don’t even say the words “indie rock” without throwing the adjective “wussy” in there somewhere, but this is a different breed: raw, melodydriven tunes a la Hot Water Music that manage to be artsy and gritty, complex and catchy, all at the same time. FF have stated that the teenage fans of their old bands aren’t exactly warming to their new sound; I may be proving my geezerhood, but these five tracks achieve the kind of depth and power their previous acts didn’t even scratch the surface of. Keep at it, boys, who gives a fuck what the anklebiters think anyway? - Thérèse Lanz

Flipsyde We the People Interscope What’s going on? Do I have baggy pants? Do I say “yo”? What the fuck would I know about hip-hop? It sounds a bit like Eminem if that’s any help to you, but probably not. I’ll bet this sounds more like other bands that I’ve never heard. Honestly, I don’t even know what to do with this. I sure am getting a big collection of coasters. - Chris Walter

In closing, I would like to add that Gat – Rot sound like something you might get if Pantera fucked Rage Against the Machine up the ass and then promptly fell asleep. Generic and derivative. - Chris Walter Brutal Knights The Pleasure Is All Thine Deranged I like this punk ‘n’ roll band from Toronto and this is why I like them: - The vocals are tough and not whiny. - The guitars are crunchy and don’t suck. - If I had hair, I could swing it back and forth while listening to this. - If they had sex with Avril Lavigne, they would be embarrassed. - No slow songs. - Fuck you, I don’t need any other reasons. In closing, I would have to say that the Brutal Knights sound like something you would get if Zeke fucked Nashville Pussy up the ass and had little shit babies. And don’t bother to point out that I’ve been making a lot of references to anal sex in my reviews lately or I’ll come over and stick my dick in your bum. - Chris Walter

The Holy Mountain Enemies No Idea Christ is this shit brutal! I put this in the player and my speakers started to drip blood. A couple of Mormons showed up at my door, and when they heard the hellish din that is Holy Mountain, they burst into flames. Enemies is an all-out attack on everything good and decent, a crust/ metal/thrash bombardment that is certain to bring the police down on you. Actually, the riffs are surprisingly catchy for such punishing music. I’d like to make the U.K. Bedheads listen to this until they peed themselves and cried like little babies. Maybe longer, since that would only take a few seconds. - Chris Walter

ALBUM

Agnostic Front Live at CBGB Nuclear Blast What? An Agnostic Front CD/ DVD live from CB’s? Get the fuck outta here! This baby combines a 19-song, 52-minute DVD with a CD that contains two bonus tracks. Normally, I hate live recordings of any type, but the sound quality here is so good that it must be digitally enhanced. That’s fine with me though; who needs crappy sound? Recorded at CBGB’s in ’04, this CD is non-stop HC action and takes no prisoners. Roger Miret and Vinnie Stigma look even more like escaped convicts than ever. Covered from head to toe with tattoos and weighing 250 lbs if they weigh an ounce, these thugs dish out song after pulverizing song in a manner that is sure to keep old fans happy and win them new

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Sloth Swaggering punk ‘n’ roll with enough sweaty machismo to make Axl Rose wince. I had to get up three times to turn up the volume, so that in itself should tell you something. Wait, now the bitch

Gat-Rot Us Versus Them Rotter I don’t like this punk/metal band from Tucson, Arizona and this is why I don’t like them: - The vocals are all dirgey and blah and sound like every other band. - The guitars are monotonous and the riffs forgettable. - If you’re older than 15 you’re too old for this. - They bore me. - They bore me. - They bore me.

Kill Cheerleader All Hail Spinerazor Kill Cheerleader list Guns ‘n’ Roses, Motley Crue, and Iron Maiden among their influences, but fortunately the vocals aren’t as screechy. The cover features a unicorn and a pair of upside-down crosses so I expected to hate this CD for its sheer unoriginality. Happily, All Hail is sleazy rawk ‘n’ roll with better-than-most riffs and plenty of attitude. If you like to wear tight leather pants and spill Jack Daniels on your hairless chest while banging your head at Velvet Revolver shows, then Kill Cheerleader is for you. A few old punk rockers might also like it. But whose idea was it to put a unicorn on the cover? Someone should beat that guy to death with a Gibson SG. - Chris Walter

MUSICCONTENTS REVIEWS The Killing Moon A Message Through Your Teeth Fearless No Bunnymen fop tributes here but actually a nu-metal record, without the nu. If the CSI team put Fred Durst, Alien Ant Farm, Linkin Park and A into a test tube and shook it all up, this is what the result would sound like. They would then label it ‘generic, chart-friendly, over-produced rock metal’ and shelve the fucker. This appears to be a big bucks single release with record company clout behind it, but just because the aforementioned acts did sell buckets, it’s been done now. Some Rocket From the Crypt trumpets beef up the track “Sugar Pills”, but still there’s nothing original here. In fact, the best thing about this CD is the artwork. Very nice graphics indeed, but probably would have gone better with the music if it actually was Ian McCulloch himself crooning away. Would have sounded better too. - Stephanie Heney Leper Less Cops More Squats Creepcore Clouds of ash blacked out the sun and nuclear winter fell on the world. Anarchy reigned supreme in this brutal and unforgiving planet. Hideously mutated humanoids eked out a harsh existence in the ruined cities. Snowshoes fashioned from screen windows and pets roasted over piles of burning books replaced chauffeur-driven Hummers and lavish, million dollar weddings. This was a new world, one free of government and police, a land free of bureaucracy and politicians. The gleaming towers and the culture that supported them were gone now. No longer did the people have elected officials to look out for their best interests. The new national anthem will be by Leper. www. geocities.com/lepercreepcore - Chris Walter The Love Drunks s/t Alive What’s not to love about the Love Drunks? Thrashy garage guitar, fast tunes, and a sound like they were collectively piped Funhouse in the nursery and up until adulthood, this pushes all the right buttons. The CD even finishes with the requisite feedback sounds. This band comes across on record like they get really sweaty onstage, and that’s a good thing. Clearly well into what they’re ‘redoing’, they manage to be original yet heavily influenced by the Cramps, JSBX and, of course, Iggy. Occasionally, tunes give way to screaming, but thank goodness for their energy. Only flaw: the song “Revenge” ends by fading out - against the law for this genre - it should always be ‘Yeah!’ or an expertly drummed ‘bah-doom!’ Elsewhere all is perfect though. They claim to be too pussy to tour Canada, but if they do, they can stay at my place. - Stephanie Heney Love Equals Death Nightmerica Fat Wreck Chords This sounds a lot like old AFI, but lacks the spidery bass lines and talent of Geoff Kresge. There are also hints of Good Riddance at times. Given that it’s produced by Bill Stevenson, this isn’t surprising. Oddly enough, there are also even a few down-tempo tracks that sound like they could be HIM songs, especially “Pray For Me”. There’s mention on their website that this album draws as much from the horror-punk of the Misfits as it does Duran Duran. While I don’t understand why any self-respecting punk band would compare itself to Duran Duran, I can see the connection - there are a few sappy pop ballads with irritating hints of fake British accent. If you find I’m not really making any unique comments on the album, it’s because there isn’t really anything unique about it to comment on. It’s not even bad enough for me to be really melodramatic and mean. Thanks for spoiling my fun, guys. - Devon Cody

and a tidy cup of the breast. Sadly, I can’t support Tanja - vocalist with pop metal group Lullacry - with anything more than a dry hump and a little pre-ejaculate in my khakis. Not that Tanja is the problem here - it’s the Hammerfall-like music that annoys this hard-working man’s jibblies. Ladies, stay away from men with aspirations of creating ‘80s hard rock in the new millenium. Your friend, - David Von Bentley Magneta Lane Dancing with Daggers Paper Bag This is Magneta Lane’s second album and it’s beautiful. The Elastica-ish distorted bass lines and low moody singing are the perfect accompaniment for your day. Although the guitar doesn’t stray too far from the genre, Dancing with Daggers makes for a nice break from all the new wave laden pop music out there. The only crappy thing about this all girl three-piece is their indifferent performance last time they were here, which might have cost them a few possible fans. - Dale De Ruiter

Married To Music Sweet Kicking and Screaming Rake Like an hour of swift kicks to the balls and a steady dose of amphetamines and painkillers (to numb the ball pain.) Fast, witty, heavy ‘math’ rock, ala NoMeansNo with a side of Fugazi. Helium voiced Byron Slack leads his trio of skinny, sexy boys through eleven tracks of pure aural aphrodisiac on their second full-length release. I ejaculated twice in the car on the way to work listening to this. This is one of those albums, one of those bands, that you listen to and all you want to do is run and around and smash and kick things, but in a joyous and too much caffeine kind of way. Two thumbs and one erect cock up. - texass

vocals and lyrical tales of revolution and social injustice will make you want to lob a Molotov cocktail at the next cop car you see. As if you didn’t already. - Thérèse Lanz

martyr, with stomach acid spattering from my fingers and stinging my eyes. I only hope that my anguished wails be heard by a merciful neighbour before I puke out hunks of my spine or manage to digest my own eyeballs. Or at the very least, I hope

Murder Squad/ Hulluus Rising Crust Wounded Paw Great title and fine musicianship, but crust just doesn’t make it for me. I can’t get past the growly vocals and metallic breakdowns. So, it isn’t that this isn’t good, just that I like other genres of punk more. I’m going to see if I can find someone else to review this, someone punker than me. Any takers? Email me at: chris@punkbooks.com - Chris Walter Nocturnal Rites Grand Illusion Century Media Do you have an uncle who’s balding but has long hair in the back? Maybe he talks to you about how great the ‘80s were? Or maybe he talks about the time he met Bon Jovi’s bass player? Well, I say this is the CD for him, that power metal loving nice uncle who has misguided taste. The production is shined up, the mix is clear, and the instruments are played with technical excellence. Jonny Lindqvist wails about elves and mighty dragons or whatever J.R.R. Tolkien theme they choose to borrow from to paint boring landscapes that illuminate the mind with thoughts of suicide unless you dig the power metal. (How high are you, Bentley? Music. Ed) I actually found something I enjoyed about Grand Illusion. On the song “Never Trust” we get a special guest in the form of - get this - three-time world champion cross-country skier Per Elofsson! Yes, the Per Elofsson! Who actually plays a mean whammy bar guitar solo that puts Cindy Klassen’s bell solo on Rush’s seminal classic “Closer to the Heart” to shame. This is good power metal here, but is that saying much? - David Von Bentley Old Man’s Child Vermin Century Media I’m not going to judge this band because of cheese dick titles like “The Plague of Sorrow”, “In Torment’s Orbit”, and “Black Marvels of Death”. I’ll refrain from pointing out how this sounds like a hundred other black metal bands, and I won’t make fun of the fact that Old Man’s Child is really just one dude (Galder, formerly Grusom) who is clearly a geeky basement dweller mourning the fact his high school days were spent popping zits and listening to Venom. I won’t do it! But I will get into the mindset of the elusive black metal fan. I have burned a church in Norway, killed a goat in an orgy of blood and fat chicks, and cleaned the cum off my cock with torn out pages from the King James Bible. I am now in the true mindset to review this album, so hold steady, here it goes… I didn’t like it. The goat didn’t like it. The fat girls didn’t like it, and my leather jump suit itches. I tried to like it - oh Satan - how I tried to enjoy this, but Galder, along with his drummer Reno Killerich, puts out schlock without the cock. Galder deserves credit for his technical talents – he plays bass, guitar, keyboards, sings, and composed all this garbage – but philosophically speaking, he’s still in the basement. - David Von Bentley

that my words may be read by as many connoisseurs of good music as the Lord deems fit to be saved. Remember what I sacrificed for you, my brothers and sisters! REMEMBER MEEEEEEEE! - Devon Cody Polidicks Mutenation Wounded Paw Mutenation is extreme and speedy punk/ metal with anger management issues. The vocals are a combination of yips, yaps, and cookie monster growls, but before you go lumping this in with the black fingernail death cookie crowd, be aware that the Polidicks are a genre unto themselves. I can’t make out a single word, but I’m sure that Polidicks original sound and intense delivery will win them legions of rabid fans. I’m giving Mutenation the thumbs up for sheer bombastic overkill and the aforementioned originality. Wanna scare your parents? Slap this on. - Chris Walter Portugal. The Man Waiter: You Vultures Fearless I suspect music editor Adrian Mack slipped this into my review stack as a sick and cruel joke. Note to Mr. Mack: I am a dummy. I can only count to four, as in 1-2-3-4, get it, motherfucker? I have no idea what to do with a band who says things like, Under blankets the hills cover neatly/ we’ll take steps to make sure our failures are hidden, but it’s hard when our voices echo over ripples that form on the ponds and lakes. WTF? I could tolerate such meaningless and pretty art if it had a beat to it, but Waiter: You Vultures just meanders along boringly and without apparent purpose. Only an art critic could give this any kind of review, and it wouldn’t be anything I could pretend to understand. I have to play the Ramones very loud now, just to clean the palette. Very funny, Mr. Mack. Very funny. - Chris Walter

of synth/guitar driven indie-pop which is, to an extent, reminiscent of early ‘90s bands that never really flourished outside of Canada (Thrush Hermit, Superfriendz, Inbreds). Again, this is said with glowing admiration rather than contempt. Chico’s fifth full-length is engaging and original from front to back: unconventional, modest and understated – in other words, a true representation of our northerly rock adventure. - Adam Simpkins Schulz What Apology Sudden Death What Apology is the latest release from busy Sudden Death Records. I was apprehensive of this at first because they describe it as industrial, and the guitarist is Guenter Schulz from KMFDM. Fortunately, What Apology isn’t industrial at all, but rather a hybrid rock/ punk mixture with gruff vocals provided by ex-HOC drummer Jeff Borden. Most of these tracks have an unstoppable and mechanical quality to them, kinda like a tiger tank on autopilot. I like the faster songs better but the slower ones have a cool groove to ‘em as well. And here’s something weird: just when I was thinking that Schulz reminded me a bit of Joy Division, they broke into a cover of JD’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart”. Moody and evocative but thrashy as well. Jesus, don’t I sound like a total ponce… - Chris Walter Sepultura Dante XXI SPV Sepultura is still making albums? And they actually made a good album? And it’s based on Dante Alighieri’s classic work of literature, Divina Commedia? Really? The answer to all of those questions is a Brazilian tribal screamed, “Yes!”. Sepultura has essentially struggled to reinvent itself after the departure of frontman, now Soulfly mainman Max Cavalera, following the definitive album Roots. The subsequent three albums with new boy Derrick Green were nothing better than sonic STD’s on Sepultura’s good reputation. This fourth release with Mr. Green at the helm sounds natural and angry, however, although it starts with a very tired mess of subliminal nonsense and effects - my heart sank at first, as I thought we had truly hit a low point for the Sepultra nation. But luckily it slaps your tits with “Dark Wood of Error”, which destroys the memory of the intro and brings in a steady blast of truly good tracks. Andrea Kisser, Igor Cavalera, Derrick Green and Paulo Pinto Jr. haven’t made anything that will be held as a benchmark in metal here, but it’s bonerlubing enough to restore some dignity. - David Von Bentley

Rapider Than Horsepower/Mae Shi (split) Don’t Ignore the Potential s.a.f. Before Jay-Z and Linkin Park ruined everything, there was Public Enemy with Anthrax, and Slayer with Atari Teenage Riot. This disc is a good punch in the face to all those shitty much music team-ups we’ve had to deal with. Don’t Ignore the Potential isn’t the next “Bring the Noise”, but anyone with at least a passing interest in something fresh should purchase this, hold it to their bosom, and weep. I doubt anyone wouldn’t want to hear a noise influenced opus fueled by Zappa-ish guitar and vocals akin to Atom and His Package. It’s so good, in fact, that I can’t turn it off. - Dale De Ruiter

Shook Ones Slaughter of the Insole Revelation It’s nice to see bands like Shook Ones still pressing 7” singles – even though this promo mysteriously found its way to me in CD format. Slaughter of the Insole, that being the title track on this brief “teaser” before the bands’ sophomore effort drops later this year, owes as much to groups like Lifetime, Kid Dynamite and Paint it Black as said bands owe to each other (chew on that, SAT analogies!). The first two tracks here speed by with the usual tricks of melodic hardcore with “So Grown Up” being the strongest of the pair. A word of warning, though: the closing track is not, in fact, an absurd Confucian wisecrack directed at Italians and their deodorant purchases, but instead a spoton cover of Leatherface’s classic “Not a Day Goes By”. Got that one? No? Take your time, it’s worth it. - Adam Simpkins

Run Chico Run Slow Action Boompa It’s a bit of a wonder as to why Run Chico Run isn’t more popular, especially since Canadian bands are the most laudable acts around these days. Maybe it’s because the ones we send out on foreign assignments (Broken Social Scenesters, Metric, Stars from Above) don’t actually sound that Canadian, thus allowing them to absorb easily on the international palate. I’m just sayin’. RCR sound Canadian, but that shouldn’t be taken as any sort of castigation. Slow Action is full

The Silent Auction This Doesn’t Take Up Very Much Space Lost My roommate took one look at the cover of this CD and said, “It’s so… art-faggy!” While that’s a fairly accurate assessment, the Silent Auction are one of Calgary’s most promising acts, not to mention one of the few bands around here breaking serious ground artistically (or, in fact, doing anything that one could call “art” with a straight face). Their full-length is a sprawling, challenging, beautiful, bizarre, clusterfuck of creativity and spit-soaked passion, the likes of which

REVIEWS

Lullacry Vol.4 Century Media I love the ladies, let’s not make any mistake about this. I support the women of the world with a firm pinch on the ass

The Martyr Index It’s Called Rock’n’Roll Meter The Martyr Index is the brainchild of Calgary’s unstoppable vegan anarchist crusader, Mark Vermin. After a nearly three-year hiatus, this much-loved collective is back with a new EP (four songs? C’mon guys, I know you have more than that kicking around). The title tells all here: this is, indeed, called rock’n’roll. Raw, driving, old-time rock’n’roll anthems with plenty of balls and absolutely irresistible sing-along choruses. Think Bruce Springsteen and Phil Lynott reincarnated with squeegees and mohawks, or Against Me! with the volume and tempo kicked up a few notches. A few non-traditional touches, such as the malefemale duet vocals and the violin, set this disc apart from the pack, but what really makes it shine is the performance of the Vermin himself - the conviction in his gruff

The Pettit Project 6 Week Summer Vacation in Hell Affluence Music Group “OHHHH FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, SOMEBODY PLEEEEEASE MAKE IT STOP!” I cry out, retching violently, only minutes into this CD. I’m sure the screams are hard to make out with all the gagging, but I continue anyway, in desperation. I can’t turn this unbearable shit off myself. The stereo is all the way across the room and I fear I might slip in the enormous puddle of barf pooled at my feet and break my neck before being able to warn the public of this cruel excuse for music. This is my duty! Although I can feel my brain being liquefied by this soppy, soulless Blink 182-meets-Barney-sing-along abomination, I frantically resist the feelings of horror as globs of grey mush drip from my earlobes to the chunky wetness beneath me. I continue to bash away at my vomit-coated keyboard, a

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CONTENTS hasn’t been seen around these parts in years. Arrangement-wise, they throw in the kitchen sink, running the gamut from twinkly indie guitars to hardcore shrieks to electronics to weird random yelled rants. Fans of Mineral, Cap’n Jazz, Slint and such, come bask in the presence of your new Messiah. If there were any justice in the world, the Silent Auction would usher in a renaissance in the Prairies, in which people listened to more than just pop punk and thug hardcore. I’m not holding my breath, but this album still kicks fucking ass. - Thérèse Lanz The Slackers Peculiar Hellcat Revival acts are a peculiar lot, indeed: generally panned by critics and purists, yet fawned over by dedicated and undiscerning audiences. Remember the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies? Stray Cats? The Hives? True – these bands had the looks and the hooks, but essentially spent their careers whipping dead horses. As for the Slackers, the band lingers around the revival label, incorporating rock-steady/ 2tone to their standard ska arrangements without neglecting a “good time” attitude accessible for John and Jane six-pack. And that’s fine – but overall, Peculiar, goes down a little too smoothly. Apart from the predominately instrumental “In Walked Capo” and boisterous “Sauron”, the songs here lack any sort of progression, even for a revival band, which makes the Slackers that much more unnecessary and ready to be put to rest. - Adam Simpkins Sourkraut Sunset Soundtrack to Risky Business Black Tee I don’t know of any other act right now that heavily references Black Sabbath yet makes it so very palatable to the indie tastemaker set. This may be because they all seem to work at the same record store together. How’s that for communal? Not only that, but they’re nine members strong, half in the horn section alone! Looking at their glossy even the women have beards; this seems to add a certain authentic purity to their music. This local act is legit. It should be noted right off the top that this is not to be confused with the actual soundtrack to the movie Risky Business. And this is a far cry from their previous MIDI-based record. The track “F/X 2” seems to be some sort of heir apparent to “F/X” by Sabbath. Laying that as the groundwork, they stretch it into a full 20-minute work out, lots of stretching in suggestive positions. And let’s not forget the rest of the album! - Robert Dayton Street Drum Corps s/t Warcon I understand that it must have been hard for punk musicians to watch Tim Armstrong and Travis Barker get critical acclaim in the Transplants, a group that essentially left all the work to the producer

and laughed all the way to the bank. What’s a punker to do? Start their own beat-inspired ‘supergroup’, I guess. The Street Drum Corps features members of S.T.U.N., Circus Minor, and the Start in a heavily remixed paean to percussionary masturbation. Throughout a somewhat bland 22 minute CD, the SDC beat everything in sight - hand drums, marching band drums, garbage cans, kegs, buckets, kitchenware, and their girlfriends (they said they liked STOMP better). The highlight of the CD is the DVD that’s included, featuring the SDC at a highenergy performance here in Vancouver, plus a music video, and some behind-thescenes footage. All I really have to say is WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THE RECORDING INDUSTRY WHEN THE HOUSE BAND FROM SIX FLAGS GETS A RECORD CONTRACT? p.s. That’s not a joke. Street Drum Corps are ACTUALLY the house band for Six Flags Theme Parks. - Derek Bolen The Sword Age of Winters Kemado Sludgy, doom-leaning metal capable of rhythmically churning your average dopesmoking metalhead’s mind into electric pudding, yet dynamic and aggressive enough to keep the simple beer swilling variety entertained as well. Those who indulge in both will no doubt enjoy this twofold. Singer JD Cronise’s voice at times has the cavernous tone of Neil Fallon and at other times the manic bleating of Ozzy Osborne. It’s fair to say that the Sword’s music also bears similarity to these singers’ bands, Clutch and Sabbath – minus the funkier tendencies of the aforementioned group. “Iron Swan” and “Freya” stand out as favourites mostly because they are a nice shift in tempo. Their jackhammer-paced, palm muted guitar riffs bring to mind Kill ‘Em All-era Metallica. While these two stand out most, there isn’t a real stinker in the bunch. - Devon Cody The Lawrence Arms Oh! Calcutta Fat Wreck Chords D-Generation and Chixdiggit had a battle to the death. When the paramedics arrived on the scene, they grabbed the bloody limbs and hunks of flesh and sewed them together and made the Lawrence Arms. Fat Mike signed them and now they are here for you to enjoy every delectable piece. The band is currently on a US tour with NOFX, so they can bring their hilarious moustachioed drunken debauchery to all. - Dale De Ruiter Trapdoor Fucking Exit Crooked Life Straight World No Idea The press release mentions that Sweden’ s Trapdoor Fucking Exit has been compared to Black Flag, and while you can hear Henry Rollins in the vocals, it goes much deeper than that. Crooked Life Straight World has the same sort of

jerky rhythms and odd time signatures employed by the ‘Flag, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Also, it would be unfair to label TDFE as a BF clone band because they don’t sink into those 10-minute dirges that later-day Black Flag was so fond of. There is so much happening here that I know it will take many listens before I can grasp the full impact of Crooked Life Straight World, but it’s going to be an exciting ride. Why does so much good shit come from Sweden? There must be something in the water. - Chris Walter The U.K. Bedheads s/t Black Mountain What the fuck? Why would anyone send me this sickeningly sweet piece of shit? The vocals are harmonic, the music gentle and nice, and the lyrics are about girls and other stupid stuff. This is the modern day equivalent of Donny Osmond, and as you all know, I FUCKED DONNY OSMOND UP THE ASS! - Chris Walter

Wrinkle Neck Mules Pull the Brake Shut Eye This is the good shit. Country straight from the still; front porch ballads for the workingman’s woes. Reminiscent of the softer side of Uncle Tupelo ala “New Madrid”, this album is a great addition to the contemporary country canon. Pull the Break’s southern harmonies and images of gun racks in beat-up pickup trucks, dusty county roads and the everpresent bottle, drip with sincerity like fried chicken grease down your chin. These boys understand. - A.D. MADGRAS

WHO GIVES A FUCK? With This Month’s Guest Mikey Manville

What album is currently in your stereo? If You Didn’t Laugh, You’d Cry Marah

What is a recent guilty pleasure? Strippers. What is your biggest pet peeve? Shit pop and stale chocolate.

What book are you currently reading or have most recently read? Hip: The History, John Leland.

Name one bad habit you are extremely proud of? Getting fat drinking.

What was the last movie you watched? Goodnight and Good Luck (Crooner Clooney).

If you could hang out with any one person throughout history who would it be? A caveman, or my grandfather.

Name one album, movie or book you consistently recommend to friends. Figure 8 – Elliot Smith

What is one thing you want to get done before you die? Play a show in Northern Laos. Or the Amazon, just like in Fitzcarraldo.

Name one album, movie or book you would recommend to an enemy? Crossroads - Britney

The Manvils CD Release Party - Honey Lounge, Saturday, April 15th n

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MUSIC / DVDCONTENTS REVIEWS

Classic Albums: Queen The Making Of A Night at the Opera DVD Eagle Rock Entertainment I didn’t understand why they didn’t get Freddy Mercury for this documentary! He was an integral part of the album! When I told Mack, the music editor about this, he just laughed. This confused me. “What’s so funny? Freddy Mercury is important! Was he just busy that day? It’s like he’s getting written out of the history! Don’t get me wrong, I like Bad Company as much as the next guy, and I’m even a fan of that song… that song… mmmm… that song “Bad Company”, and I know Paul Rodgers has a mortgage to pay out in White Rock - White Rock, how apropos - but to ask him instead of Freddy to sing for Queen is just awful!” Mack just looked at me with abject

curiousity, a curiousity that seemed at the time to be measured with a thick dollop of concern. “Robert, don’t you know? Freddy Mercury is dead.” A good writer does his research. And so I hit the most current books close at hand and can indeed confirm that, yes, Freddy Mercury is dead. But his music lives on with A Night at the Opera, which is easily the fourth or fifth best Queen album by far, and I’m sure that Paul Williams, I mean Paul Rodgers does it just swell. Paul Williams is interviewed elsewhere in this issue. Anyhow, Brian May’s hair remains a reliable constant throughout time and apparently he dated the gal on Eastenders back in the ‘80s, and she had the exact same puffy sheen. This DVD is great for the Queen fan or even anyone interested in recording production. It goes track by track where the viewer is at the mixing board with producer Roy Thomas Baker playing sections of the original multi-track tapes, musical demonstrations from Brian May and John Deacon, lots of new and archival interviews, some archival footage, there is no footage of what the gal from Eastenders hair looks like today. A Night at the Opera is also a great Marx Brothers film, a true comedy classic, and comes highly recommended. I just watched it again the other day, and was simply awe struck. Same goes for their follow up, A Day at the Races, which is not to be confused with Queen’s follow up of the same name. The problem with this Classic Albums franchise is that though they

are wonderfully thorough in their research, they often seem to choose the wrong albums. A Night at the Opera has its stirring epics but one should not forget that a full third of it is fruityrooty-tooty-parasol-by-the-seaside rollicking. Take a glance at other selections in this series. Wouldn’t Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk be a more interesting watch than Rumours? Wouldn’t Lou Reed’s Berlin or The Bells or Metal Machine Music be a more interesting watch than Transformer? Wouldn’t Nirvana’s In Utero be a more interesting watch than Nevermind? Wouldn’t Pink Floyd’s Piper At The Gates Of Dawn or even Wish You Were Here be a more interesting watch than Dark Side Of The Moon? Wouldn’t Deep Purple’s Bananas be a more interesting watch than Machine Head? - Robert Dayton

apparel. You can’t spit without hitting some little BR mall punk in the eye. I have mixed feelings about it all. On one hand, it’s cool that punk wasn’t just some fad and that we were ahead of our time, but now punk has become the mainstream I abhor. So what to do? The music on this DVD is insanely fast and catchy, the lyrics thought provoking and intelligent, and the execution flawless. Still, admitting that you like Bad Religion is almost as uncool as wearing a Nickelback T-shirt. Is it punk if everyone gets it? The underground ain’t underground no more, baby. This DVD, of course, covers the hits from ’81 to ’06, and everything from the camera work to the sound and lighting is top notch. We also get to hear the band blather about how they formed, their influences and dreams, and even which one of them has the biggest dick. Oddly, they don’t say shit about Brett Gurewitzs’ drug addiction, or about the time I punched Greg Graffin out for looking at me sideways. Maybe you should buy this, but hide it under your mattress with the porno magazines. Btw, I may have lied about a couple of things in this paragraph. - Chris Walter

Bad Religion Live at the Palladium DVD Epitaph When I was a kid growing up in Winnipeg, there were only a handful of us who bought Bad Religion’s first album when it came out. There were only one or two places in the city where you could even buy punk albums, and let’s just say that those storeowners were not getting rich. I loved that first record, but then they put out a weird electronic album called Into the Unknown that I hated, and as a result, I didn’t buy another BR record until two months ago when, for some odd reason, I picked up The Empire Strikes First. Now, of course, Bad Religion fans are everywhere, and I see 10year old kids and 50-year old men wearing BR

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CONTENTS

Short Ends smaller and not as funny as cheap shotz as I refer to it as) go check it out. Or just send them money. www.whenjessewasborn.com

Charles Manson Update A copy of Nerve February 06 which featured an article about Live Freaky! Die Freaky! off to Charles Manson. I also sent him $4. It’s been a little over two months and still no response but we’ll keep you posted.

whip into’ www.youtube.com and prepare to be blown away. There are even some great ones of people crashing their whips into trees while ghostriding them. I am pretty confident ghostriding the whip was introduced to black people by the CIA and will kill more young black people than STDs, handguns and drugs combined. At the very least it will kill a lot of dumb white kids from the suburbs who are immitating them.

Samurai Film Fest Big Smash blah blah blah www.bigsmash. com blah blah blah. The Cinematheque is also showing a large collection of samurai movies until April 17 including a lot of the Zatoichi films as well as a bunch of Kurosawa classics.

Ghostriding the Whip I thought you would appreciate hearing about the latest rap craze. In the Bay Area there is a genre of rap called Hyphy. Think of it as the shitty West Coast version of dirty Nerve Christmas Party circa 1951 south crunk (eg the music that Lil Enjoying a limited release this month (in J o n limited words). A lot of people like burlesque makes and was feaBrick It’s true. To me burlesque dancers seem like girls tured in Hustle and A mystery starring the who aren’t pretty enough to be strippers. They Flow). A rapper called Third Rock From the Sun also seem to rip their clothes off a lot faster than E-40 recently put out kid that won an “originalstrippers. Also, rockabilly is horrible music. But ity of vision” award at a song called “Tell Me that’s just one person’s opinion. Either way, If Sundance. When to Go.” About you like pin-up girls or burlesque you’ll probably 2/3 into the song like this movie that is coming out about Bettie E-40 starts chantDrawing Restraint 9 Page. It’s called The Notorious Bettie Page and ing “Ghostride the Some weird movie made is made by the director of American Psycho so Whip” accompanied by Matthew Barney with it’ll probably be pretty good. Björk aboard a whaling by imagery of peowww.thenotoriousbettiepage.com ship. ple ghostriding their whips (cars) where When Jesse Was Born Hard Candy the driver hops out of Nerve Book editor Devon Cody worked on a the car and dances Underage girl gets removie called When Jesse Was Born which was like an idiot around venge on a pedo. directed by Christopher Petry, who got tricked the car or on the hood into writing an article for us this month. It’s playWhat Do We Eat while it is still moving. ing at a bunch of film festivals in cities we don’t Dad accidentally swalThis, of course, has distribute in, but if you find yourself at Sacramenlows ecstasy at Passspawned copycats. to Film Festival (or Central California’s Sundance Hit “ghostriding the over. Björk’s a pig-fucker

DVD Pick: The Squid and the Whale Hey it’s the guy who cowrote The Life Aquatic and is friends with Wes Anderson. Sure, why not let the guy make a movie. But put away the tar and feathers, Noah Baumbach crafts a really good tale here. Based largely on his own experiences while growing up in the 80s, it explores the damaging effects a jealous divorce between two intellectuals has on their kids. Surprisingly, the movie doesn’t seem like Diet Wes Anderson and there are some great performances here. Especially from Jesse Eisenberg who plays a son who worships his loser father a little too much and rips off Pink Floyd. If you can’t help but think Jeff Daniels’ role was written for Bill Murray you are very smart because it was and Murray was attached to the script at one point. I wonder if Wes Anderson has any degenerate friends who have no talent and spend all day sitting on the couch smoking pot? n

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CONTENTS There aren’t supposed to be any surprises at the Oscars, save the occasional naked guy running out on stage. But this wasn’t the case when Crash shocked everyone by taking Best Picture honours this year. In an Aristotle-esque quest for the truth behind this contorversial film we found a writer who hated it and a writer who loved. Here‘s what they have to say. By Michael Mann

’m starting to think that the Greeks are right and there are petty Gods who like to put ironic curses on people. The curse that’s been put on me is I’m able to see how truly horrible some movies are, but when I try to explain how horrible they are to others they just look at me like I’m crazy. That’s how I feel when I try to explain my hatred for Paul Haggis, the writer/director responsible for Million Dollar Baby and Crash. I’ll just come out and say it. If you liked the movie Crash, you’re an idiot. That might be a bad way to start an article, but whatever. Paul Haggis’ only talent is making movies that stupid people enjoy. While that’s a fantastic skill to have, kindly stick to making movies about asteroids hitting Earth and don’t try to make a challenging work of art. The recipe is straightforward and the dish is as appetizing as minced sheep innards boiled in the stomach of the slaughtered animal. Take a subject that was taboo when Haggis was writing for The Facts of Life or Diff’rent Strokes so the dumb people think they’re watching something challenging. Get an ensemble cast of big names to act out inane storylines that are so

predictable they’re almost unpredictable. Rather than try use things subtlety and nuance, hit your audience over the head with a hammer to make your point then whack them a few times in the heart for good measure so the audience is fully aware they’re supposed to be feeling something there. Might as well throw in some Grade 2 level foreshadowing so dumb people will feel smart when they recognize it. Have an extended montage near the end with all the characters to show how everyone, despite their differences, is all connected together and you’ve got an Oscar winner. In a year where we had movies about homosexuality, terrorism and censorship all vying for Best Picture it’s the movie that panders to white L.A. paranoia that takes the prize. Like me, you might have been scratching your head when Brokeback Mountain-3/5 in my opinion – didn’t win the Oscar. Well you don’t have to have actually seen all the movies nominated for best picture to vote, which seems a little ridiculous. If you’re looking for the conspiracy, Ernest Borgnine and Tony Curtis both went public with their refusal to

see Brokeback Mountain because of the subject matter so it’s probably safe to assume that other, less vocal Academy members, did the same. Hey racial tension is important stuff, especially in Los Angeles where I’m sure this movie spoke to a lot of people. Oprah said Crash was an important film with an important message. Well, Oprah’s a stupid bitch who’s been white washed by capitalism because the only message I took from Crash was stereotypes aren’t true, but sometimes they are. So be afraid, cracker. That this movie was able to take the Oscar goes to show that despite Hollywood’s best efforts to seem progressive, it’s still controlled by whitey. That’s the shittiest thing about Crash; how painfully obvious it is that it was written by a white male. Now there’s nothing inherently wrong with being a white male unless you’re dancing in front of me. But do you know what you call it when the oppressor in a society makes a film about an issue that affects the oppressed? You don’t call it art and you don’t call it film. You call that propaganda. Hey it’s cool if you’re a heterosexual white male and have strong

opinions about affirmative action, native land claims, gay marriage and abortion. But no one wants to hear what you have to say so please keep it to yourself. I can handle a movie like Do The Right Thing where it’s Spike Lee getting in your face. I like that. After all, it’s him and his people who have been getting ass fucked ever since white people tripped over Africa. What’s Paul Haggis’ justification? I’m not foolish enough to believe that the human brain is simple enough to unquestioningly imitate any and every stimulus it receives. But with Crash, you have a movie that goes beyond exploration of a hot button topic and justifies racist paranoia. People will gladly eat bullshit if you dress it up a little and give it a better name. They’ll go back for seconds if the packaging says it won an award. So the most terrifying prospect is because it was lauded with critical acclaim and financial success, surely the copycats can’t be far behind. So I’m glad the Greek Gods have cursed me because my gift is bound to come in handy and hey, at least I didn’t get mounted by Zeus assuming the form of a swan. n

I’d be curious as to whether or not the smell of ass or rotting pizza is strongest in the dwelling of a knuckle dragger who say’s “Well, that was a piece of shit!”

By Christopher Petry ince the announcement of Crash as best film of the year at the Oscar’s, I’ve had to go around putting my cigarette out on the foreheads of sniveling critics who make a living by slamming anything considered mainstream. See, I have to wonder what state of mind one would have to be in to feel that Crash was a poor movie. Now, I’ve always tried to listen to different people’s varied points of view, especially when it comes to tastes in things like movies or music. However, I’d be curious as to whether or not the smell of ass or rotting pizza is strongest in the dwelling of a knuckle dragger who says “Well, that was a piece of shit!” when they’ve finished watching Crash. In my constant journey to try and see both sides of the coin, I do understand that intellectual and deep films are not for everyone. To get through Crash, I’m afraid the brain does have to function. You actually do have to think and feel. In fact, after seeing it, you may even be roped into a discussion about racial issues by your only friend who can read. I imagine the majority of people slamming Crash were on their way to see Fantastic 4 or War of the Worlds before they were hounded into watching a film of substance. Of that majority, I highly doubt they pick up paper

People will gladly eat bullshit if you dress it up a little and give it a better name. They’ll go back for seconds if the packaging says it won an award.

with words on it and therefore will probably never read this. That’s probably a good thing, as most of those animals could kick my ass. For those moviegoers who can fully construct a sentence and still feel that Crash was a piece of garbage, well, I’m dying to find out what kind of movies you do like. My money’s on the fact that you were probably cheated on a lot in junior high and feel the need to slam anything that others find compelling. If you’re one of these people, come find me, I’ll be in the lobby of the Fifth Avenue Cinema’s, putting cigarettes out on the foreheads of Crash adversaries as they exit the film, which happens to be on its second run in the theatres while available on video. Yeah, they do that for pieces of shit all the time. For its political stance alone, Crash immediately became a staple for the voice of racial issues in our society today. In my opinion, it’s the To Kill a Mockingbird of modern times. We live in a melting pot of cultures that are bound to clash at some point, no matter how hard we try to follow the back assward standards of Political Correctness. PC has created this underlying and deviously dangerous form of racism that is always in the air whenever two strangers from

another culture have any sort of contact. I was so excited and proud for our fucking species that someone took the time to sit down and write something like Crash that dealt with these issues. The movie doesn’t give answers or solutions to problems, it just say’s that this is how it is. I can’t imagine that anyone would dispute the fact that the topics touched on in the movie, are actually happening in our society today. As for the creative and visual storytelling of the film, I thought it was deadly. I don’t know of a scene in any movie that I can remember that was as intense and complicated as Officer Ryan’s (Matt Dillon) heroic and fiery rescue of Christine (Thandie Newton), the woman he abused earlier in the film. That shit was intense and had everyone I’ve spoken with on the edge of their seat with a ball of emotions swimming through their heads. For those of you apes wishing you had paid for an action film, that explosion was also cinematically kick ass. That scene is just an example of the human dynamic the rest of the film embraces. Every single scene is chock full of depth with constant layers. Be it dealing with the plot or the characters, there is always more than one thing going on at all times. That’s the kind of shit that makes a great story, I don’t care if you’re

reading it or watching on a giant screen. That is what Crash is at the core, a great story. Throw in a couple great performances and you have the makings of an Oscar winning film. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few years down the road kids are watching Crash in English classes as part of the high school curriculum. In my mind this is a film everyone in our society today should watch. Like it or don’t like it, but watch it and form an opinion of the issues. Anything that makes the average Joe stop and look around at what’s going on should be given some kind of props. At the very least the film does that. I think as moviegoers today we are getting smarter. Most of us aren’t fooled by the same old shit anymore. We want something new, something real, something we can relate to. Crash provides the breath of fresh air that most of us have been dying for in a movie. I can only hope that it opens the door in Hollywood for a deeper version of storytelling that will reach out to the mainstream followers. But for now, all you apes out there need not panic just yet; I believe The Fast and the Furious 3 is slated for a summer release. Happy viewing. n

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Put What Where? By John Naish Harper Element Gentlemen, have you ever wondered what you need to turn yourself into a raging sex god, how to prevent premature ejaculation or what it means when you have wet dreams about kissing your own penis? Of course you have. Well, after reading this book I now know. I am now a bona fide sexual sage of ages who could crush Sting with my libido alone. Thanks to the 3rd-century Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana and The Scripture of Koka I will soon elevate myself to sexual godliness… as soon as I find me some “fashionable gold hyena bones” and remember to just think of “a particularly nimble monkey, swinging on the branch of a tree” to fend off untimely gonad explosion. Ladies, do you regret having your cherry popped by that pasty little-dicked drunken jerk back in 8th grade? Well, I’ve learned a remedy from the Medieval Hebrew Book of Women’s Love that will instantly restore your virginity. Now, take off your panties and spread your legs while I get my ground nutmeg. Do you often find yourself in the stifling grip of jealousy, worrying if your partner will remain faithful? The Ratimanjari of Jayadeva says you’ll never find yourself in this situation again if you just rub your genitals in the shit of a bird in flight before having sex with them for the first time. These are only a few tidbits of bizarre sexual advice compiled by John Naish from documents across the world and as far back in history as before Christ plopped out of Mary’s vagina. The format of this book lends itself to quick and easy bursts of reading and therefore would make excellent toilet literature. Given how easy it is to find comedy in the act of fucking, one’s inclined to believe that Naish would find enough bowel-rupturing humour in over 2000 years to make this the funniest book you ever shat to. Unfortunately it falls a little short of these expectations. While there are

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some absolute gems of ridiculousness, at least half of the excerpts run a little on the dry side and come across as filler. Having said that, this is the kind of book that one can simply flip through to find something that fits their individual sense of humour. Alternately the book may serve as a collection of advice for kinky people searching for something new and exciting in the archaic. Like how to repair a bent penis, perhaps. All you’ll need are some quail testicles, oil from an elder tree, several large-winged ants and amber from the Orient. Just mix together, rub on the area and consider it straightened. Well, fancy that! I just may try this one out tonight. -Devon Cody

Ski+Snowboard Festival, check whistler2006. com June 18: “Let’s Play S.K.A.T.E” (flat ground & launch ramp). July 8: ” Bringing it to the Streets” (4 locations, 4 contests, 1 day) July 22: ”Let’s Play S.K.A.T.E Round 2 “ (ledge + ollie) Sept.3: ”Summers End Skate Jam (best trick) at the Plaza -D-Rock and Miss Kim. Email downspace@ telus.net.

stevie denham backside transfer

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PHOTOS: TWISTED SISTER AMANDA

Shreditorial: Golden April Showers This month we offer a wide sprinkling of unrelated misinformation… RDS Fatty to Flatty Contest On March 25, rippers congregated under the RDS big top and did tricks ‘til people gave To all lives… short and long. them money to go away. Winner in Street Most of you probably know Vancouver skate was Ryan DeCenzo, with Magnus Hansen in scene fixture George Faulkner as a talented second. Is that a street sweep? In Bowl it was skateboarder with freakish board control Stevie Denham in first and trick-bot John Baker abilities, a filmer/editor guy, and an all-around in second. Autobots transform!!! Seems like Stevie’s getting so dominant on small ramps he deserves a leather catsuit. Snovaries March 4-5 saw the MGT allgirl snowboard Park Clinic and Slopestyle at Grouse Mountain, with girls doing 540’s and mega gnarly spin tricks onto rails. First Place Bev Vuillemeumier, second Janele Pritchard, and third to Marly whose prize party at the back of antisocial. was a surname. Check out nice cat. Some of you might also know him mgtsnowboardcamp.com for future all-girl snow as the guy who seems to have the ability to camp action. be two places at once. Whatever the case, Bonsor Goofy vs. Regular Evil mastermind Rose Archie and astute hirsute George recently made a video that you should all watch. The Seylynn Story, which takes emcee Mike Faux brought us the recent wellviewers on a trip through the life of Canada’s attended Bonsor contest. Has anyone noticed oldest skatepark, was screened at the Media that Bonsor has one of the most positive and Club on March 6th with help from the Surfrider enjoyable local scenes around? I think it’s the Foundation’s Vancouver Chapter (surfrider. influence of Push Skateshop’s resident roll org/vancouverbc). Boasting 27 years of footage models Eve, Tony, and Gordon. Plus that park from opening day in 1978 right up to summer has such varied Spectrum gnarchitecture. 2005, The Seylynn Story features the skating of Mean S.T.R.E.E.T.S all the Seylynn locals… Alex Chalmers, Sluggo, Unconfirmed rumour has Dr. Jonny Molson Don Hartley, 57, Eve Feaver, Carlos Longos, (Ph.D. in Thrashology) temporarily grinding Mike Evans, Jamie Sherrat, et al… and even a the curbs of NYC in pursuit of musical few people you might not expect. There’s also development, leaving the band on Hi-8-us. We an interview with park designer Calen Sinclaire, hope he comes back soon cuz he’s a sweet, talented guy but ya gotta follow yer dreams and which provides insight into how Seylynn’s contours are inherently connected with human creative vision where they lead. nature. DC Nationals Want a copy? Of course you do. Next The upcoming DC Nationals amateur series will time you’re sessioning Bonsor, go across the see 80 contests run across Canada with up to street to Push and buy one. And get Eve to 2500 participants, culminating with the Finals sign it… he narrated the damn thing. Never go on the Slam City Jam pro course in Calgary to Burnaby? Well that’s no excuse because on Friday August 25th. Local qualifiers June The Seylynn Story is also available at Cork It 24/25, Regionals July 22/23, top 5 go to Slam. Winemaking in North Van, PD’s Hotshop in Kits, We here at the Skate Spot think that this is a AntiSocial on Main St., and RDS in Richmond. great way for hardworking ams to pursue their Want more info? seylynn.com. dreams and maybe even get a break in front of And as an end note, I’d just like to give the big companies. Scheduling and sign-up info say a quick farewell to AntiSocial’s “Until We at dcnationals.com . Get Leeside” project, which will soon be a fond Upcoming Events memory. Huge thanks to Michelle for being April 14-23: The gigantic Telus World such a gracious host, to Seb, Luke and Mavie for building the thing, and to Dylan Doubt, Mike and Sam McKinlay, and the many others who killed the shit out of the place. - Jeff Chan (grand_ wazoo@ hotmail.com) PHOTOS: DEREK DeLAND

The Trouble With Music By Mat Callahan AK Press This is a truly compelling piece of writing. I only wish there was a way to legally force every soul-sucking record executive and MTVidiot to read it. Author Mat Callahan examines the original purpose of music from its very roots and works his way outward revealing why present popular music is in such a rotten state. Central to his argument is music’s ever-crippling relationship with capitalism and consumerism. He coins the bastard offspring of this filthy ménage-à-trois “Anti-music” – the musical equivalent of a fake orgasm. Callahan

details how most major record labels manufacture celebrity, use it to sugarcoat Anti-music, and then market that celebrity rather than market quality music. It is a ruthlessly effective ploy to maintain the most control possible since it’s easier for these companies to manufacture fame (or infamy) through media control than it is make the effort to discover and nurture true talent. Tracing it back to the genesis of slavery, he also offers the opinion that music and musicians have been historically marginalized by those in power in order to repress the liberating potential of music and the sense of community it can create. Perhaps most interesting are his views on piracy and file sharing. Callahan juxtaposes data detailing declining record sales with the concurrent increase in sales of musical instruments, suggesting that piracy can only help the true musical body, despite record company objections. He recognizes this is just their poor excuse for over-spending on marketing and promotion of overpaid Anti-talent, and their blatant ignorance for the people’s desire for quality music. Much of the book obviously comes across heavy with pessimism, and some of the more dire passages are a little long-winded, even from a realist’s perspective. On the other hand, Callahan’s take on piracy is refreshingly positive, and leads nicely into a surprisingly optimistic final chapter. As a whole, The Trouble With Music is a powerful and absolutely necessary critique, that is densely supported by facts, footnotes, and quotes from intellectuals ranging from Leo Tolstoy to Chuck D, William Blake to Prince, and Karl Marx to George Clinton. Those who need to hear its message the most, however, may be turned off by its militant, analytical, and often gloomy approach, and probably lack the attention span to make it to the end. I hope I’m wrong. - Devon Cody

CONTENTS

t f T w w p W H g c w t t p w f a n t m p c h c W h t w t b a w a h “ s “ b o b W f

PHOTOS: TWISTED SISTER AMANDA

CONTENTS

Livin’ the Dream

The Man That Matters

By CC Rose

By Jason Ainsworth

“

So what’s our story for the border?” “Shit, dude, will you relax? We’ve been over it 20 times. We’re recording.” “And you have the letter, right? It’s got all the numbers on it?” “Yes,” Hawk says firmly, driving in silence for a while until Wayne can’t stand it anymore. “But what if they call and—“ “Jesus Wayne, will you shut the fuck up?” Tyler yells. “Thank you,” says Hawk, clasping tight the wheel. Wayne sulks out the window and Jaime, without a word, turns up the Budgie CD in the player. Ten minutes of Tsawwassen go by and Wayne sees a sign for the border crossing. He fidgets with the zipper of his hoodie, finally getting it up. He flips the hood over his head, crosses his arms and leans back into the seat. Tyler rips open a bag of chips. He talks with his mouth full. “Man, I can’t wait to get to California. I got this girl in San Francisco... total fox. Last time I was there, I stayed at her place and her roommate, man, her roommate was rad too. She’s a Mexican. Made us all this food, fuckin’ tacos and salad and guacamole and shit, damn it was good. And then that night... oh man! You guys wouldn’t believe—“ “Okay we’re here,” Hawk says, turning off the music. “No one says a fuckin’ word except me, alright? Only speak when spoken to. Now pass me all your ID’s.” They stop behind a red pickup truck. Jaime hands his to Hawk first, a birth certificate and a driver’s license. Hawk puts his hand out and receives Wayne’s passport and citizenship card. He looks at it. “Nice picture, Wayne. What are you, eight?” He smiles at him, but Wayne doesn’t respond, instead he turns and looks out the window again, only there’s nothing to see but the car next to them, a black BMW with tinted windows. Tyler is fumbling around in his pockets for his wallet. Hawk turns to him. “You got your shit, man?” “Yeah, it’s here somewhere,” he says. “I think it might be in my bag.” He starts pulling out sleeping bags and backpacks and blankets. Wayne studies him furiously. Everything was

nice and packed in there before. Everybody else had their shit ready. Every single time it’s something with this guy. Hawk lights a cigarette and passes the lighter to Jaime, who lights one for himself. They roll down the windows. Wayne pulls up his hoodie to cover his nose and mouth, closing his eyes. Tyler finally finds his bag and rifles through it. The red truck moves ahead. They inch along, about five cars back from the gate. The BMW is further up in its line, almost at the front. “Here it is.” Tyler hands his cards to Hawk. “What the hell is this, Tyler? A bank card and BCID? It’s all messed up even, you can barely read your name on it. They’re not gonna take this, I thought you said you had proper ID.” “That’s all I got, man, I couldn’t find my birth certificate, I must’ve lost it or something.” “THAT’S ALL YOU GOT?” Wayne screams. “YOU MUST’VE LOST IT OR SOMETHING??? ARE YOU FUCKIN’ INSANE?!” Hawk reaches back and grabs Wayne by the arm. “Wayne, calm down, alright, chill the fuck out. You screaming your head off right now isn’t going to help shit.” The red truck has moved up a couple of spots and Hawk quickly catches them up. He turns back to the backseat. “Now. We’re two cars away from the border. Everybody chill, look normal. Tyler, you’re a fucking asshole. You told me you had proper ID this time. If we get turned back again, I swear to fuckin’ God, you are out of this band.” Tyler goes to say something but decides not to. Instead he mumbles ‘yeah, right’ and sinks down in his seat. Wayne watches the BMW get waved through. n

On my First Month as an Out and Out Anythingfor-Kicks Put-it-My-Mouth Homosexual. I’m not liking it very much. This is the most important thing you will ever read, and I’m not making it up. It comes from the heart. It is a warning for young shavers everywhere, to not to be sucking around, alright. Everything that follows is one hundred and ten percent true. After my unfortunate non-gay sex/sex times in a straight bar, (I told you about it last issue, it sucked), I decided to take out a personal ad, to meet homos in the know. Because I wasn’t liking gay all-man action all that much. I wanted a more silky experience, instead of these esteemed and ridiculous six dicks, all limp, in my ear. I called up the tallest, blackest guy that wrote in. His name… doesn’t matter. We’ll call him Tiny Degroot. “Hey, Spider,“ (I used an alias, so to avoid future unpleasantness, court writs and so on), “ lets go, hand in gay hand, to this new gaybar what just opened. Its called Zippers!” “Try and stop me, you big, big lover!” We squealed and ran off, I was running with obvious pain. To tell the truth, after a few nights with Tiny, my manpussy was sooooo split, so aching and wet that it needed a holiday! Not more sex! But it got more sex! Read on! It was leather night, full of “bears”, fat men into hair, fists and all night gay-fruit kicks. In the anus, if you can believe it. Golden shower action, with a pear. I was kind of bored. And my leather was itchy, and drinks weren’t as cheap as I would have liked, but at least there weren’t any girls, not interested in girls now, because of the homo thing. Chat chat chat, I’m a chatty little whore today, sorry! Yep, I lacked pep. Tiny saw, there were tears in my eyes, I was the love of his life, his little bulky rose, his four inches of perfect ecstasy. So he pepped me up with what he called crystal meth. WOOOOO! I can awesomely recommend this chemical. It really put some spice into the Ainsworth. Littleratlly, I had a cock in my pants that would baffle Princess Diana, with its hardness, assuming, correctly I believe, that Princess Diana was a lesbian. My leather slacks got tighter. Well, Tiny didn’t believe in monogamy, and he gave me, or gifted me, to about one hundred million of his (gay) friends. Oh, man, its worth going gay full time just to feel the… gravitational balance of your insides rotate under the liquid mass of semen frothing around in one’s bowels. The word is Vortex. Don’t worry about disease. Only black people are diseased, statistically speaking. Ohh, I didn’t mean to be so racist! Sorry! But it’s true! Tiny’s black, come to think of it. Hmm. Yeah. That’s kind of worrying, actually. Hm. He didn’t taste diseased, you

understand. So we went off and Just Kept Dancing. A lot of a gay’s time is spent taking Crystal Meth and worrying, I guess. Talk about an education! It’s better than one hundred universities made of nude impersonal sex acts all night long with one hundred cocks and a room full of pets. “Hey, my little flower! Take some of these!” Tiny held out a little bit of something in his hand. It was a drug of some sort! “Take it, my little flower, it’s a date rape drug!” I’d never taken a date-rape drug before, but of course I was curious. “Ohhh, go on then!” I dropped it in my beer. Couldn’t really taste anything. Wooo. Less enthusiastic wooo. I don’t really remember much, except that all sorts of items were suddenly made up of other items. Do you get it? Feel kind of silly. Date rape drugs are pretty serious. It’s not like, I don’t know, pounding back a hand full of Poppers with a couple of cans of beer. These Rohypnol things Change People’s Lives. For the Worse. Unfortunately, as I may have said before, it was Golden Shower night. Nude, I was apparently the shaking, crying, possibly vomiting star attraction. Bloody typical, finally people are paying attention to me but I’m too drugged up to remember. Well, sir, I believe the urine tasted mostly like charcoal, with a little Vanilla. I can’t believe what those fags wanted to do to the Ainsworth, and also what they did do to the Ainsworth. Woooooooooo! Talk about a sexy wet and passionate week! Woooooooo! And I can’t even remember it!!! Holy Cow! Everyone was there including Male Witches, Chick Witches, Male Draculas and everything that breathes Gay man on man Gay Fisting Sex Action Fun. Yay. Next Month! My XXX debut. Sorry, mom. n

I’d never taken a date-rape drug before, but of course I was curious.

The Nerve April 2006 Page 37

CONTENTS

By Dan Scum Across 1. Graffiti artist’s signature 4. Secs, mins, ____ 7. Scarlett of “Gone with the Wind” 12. America’s nightmare from “Menace to Society” (what you say bout my mama?) 14. Writer of poems (duh!) 15. Antidepressant prescribed for quitting smoking 16. Jimi Hendrix song about the Bi-Polar Disorder 19. Bargain prices 20. 4th sign of the zodiac 21. Text-to-speech 22. Opportunities 23. House of ill ______ 25. ACDC hit 26. “Scream” director Craven 27. Mad as all hell 31. Brooklyn rapper ___ Def 32. Angus Young of 25A’s axe (abv.) 34. Buried bombs 35. Analyze closely 37. Residents of an Asylum or Prison 39. Renerotica babe 40. Neil Young and ______ Horse 42. OJ’s judge 43. Artistic community 44. Anti Nazi League 45. Follicle Stimulating Hormone 46. Legally crazy 49. “Hot” Dutch Metal Band _____ Torch 50. Energy Networks Association 52. Orange County Choppers 53. Common auditory hallucinations 56. The Ramones’ shrink? 59. School paper 60. Scourge of the Great Lakes 61. “For Christ’s _____!” 62. Gaelic folk songs 63. Psychiatrists 64. Psychedelic ‘60’s drug Down 1. Sawyer and Arnold 2. Alesis Digital Audio Tape 3. Lost one’s mind 4. Gardening implement 5. To lock away in the unconscious 6. _____-on dildo 7. Imperial meas. 8. State of near panic

The Nerve April 2006 Page 38

9. Indiscriminate short length of time 10. 107 year old Manhattan specialty foods store 11. Ms. Landers 13. Dog sizes Mini, standard, and ____ 14. ____ Hot Shop, Vancouver BC 17. Critical Language Series 18. Ostrich cousin 23. Violin and Cello ancestor 24. Leader of “The Lords of the Underworld” 25. Poisonous 26. Be victorious 28. Personality disorder characterized by a lack of conscience 29. Molars and incisors 30. Kyfe gasoline from Exxon 31. Patient’s Pills 32. Ceded to 33. Sardinian goddess of fertility and weaving 36. Like a raving lunatic 38. Crazy kiwi’s country 41. Single storey house 45. Loses it 47. North American rail line 48. Didn’t dither 49. Big ass snake 50. Fem. Ending 51. New York Stock Exchange 53. Virtual Realities 54. Stamps’ rivals (CFL) 55. Jason New____ 57. Seasoning salt maker 58. Ernie the Big Easy (PGA)

Last Issue’s Answers

The Nerve April 2006 Page 39

Navarre_Metal_Nerve

24/3/06

17:19

Page 1

Kill Cheerleader All Hail

Childhood friends with a fetish for early G n' R and Motley Crue, they learned their instruments together while practicing songs from old Stooges records. Soon they began writing original songs with the intent of tearing shit apart and creating raw and powerful anthems like their musical heroes before them. They started off playing shows in Toronto but were banned from clubs for their off-stage antics. "The Best Rock N' Roll Band Since Guns N' Roses" - Lemmy of MOTĂ&#x2013;RHEAD

Katatonia

The Great Cold Distance Already being hailed another Katatonia masterpiece, the band are back with their seventh album, The Great Cold Distance. Featuring the single "My Own Twin", this is the bands decisive seventh full length album, a natural, progressive follow up to 2003's Viva Emptiness. Visit Peaceville.com for further updates on an upcoming world tour.

Wicked Wisdom Wicked Wisdom

"I went to see Wicked Wisdom play last April in a tiny (Los Angeles) club at midnight, let me tell you, I was blown away. When you see and hear Jada with her band it's apparent that she has nothing but love and respect for this genre of music. I totally respect that the band wants to pay their dues playing the second stage on Ozzfest." - Sharon Osbourn