David Mo to a show, where Valley acts from back in the day like Down and Out and Red Light Special were playing, and it was there I saw Eddie Zamarron, a.k.a. The G.M.T.—Great Mexican Taliband—who I knew for a fact used to run with those Southeast McAllen kids, on the edge of Pharr. When I asked him about Bread8 he got really happy, slapped me on the back several times and said, “Oh, man, those guys still gig, man, believe it or not. Cloud’s still the manager at Peter Piper, man, and Bas, God knows what he does, I know he used to sell real dirt weed out of his grandpa’s old trailer...that shitty little trailer out in Bienvenidos, did you ever go there? It’s still there, dude, fuck. Man, but you know what the best thing about those assholes is? That they never have new songs. They have the same eight-song set that they’ve always had...you ever get that shitty little EP they put out? Of course, of course....man, but whatever, everybody comes out to their shows. I’m talking everybody, even the old crew. Man, and everybody knows all those fucking songs by heart and just sing along and get absolutely trashed. It’s the best, man. But they don’t play that often...they all have their own shit going on now. Those guys are great, though. They have the best name ever, Bread8. Get it? Pan Ocho. Like, panocha, pussy in Spanish. But, Panocho. Like a male vagina. Fucking genius.” C This story is from the new CCLaP book Death to the Bullshit Artists of South Texas, Vol. 1, by Austinite Fernando A. Flores. Download a free copy, or order a special handmade hardback paper edition, at cclapcenter.com/bsartists.
144 | The CCLaP Journal