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Cover Story




Pistol Whipper (a/k/a Music Editor) Adrian Mack

An extremely tenuous link to a band of five drunken bozos in Abbotsford, and their heartwarming reunion this year, serves as the basis for this very special Nerve feature.

Shotgun (a/k/a Film Editor) Michael Mann Map and Details (a/k/a Skate Shreditors) D-Rock and Miss Kim Launderer (a/k/a Book Editor) J. Pee Patchez The Henchmen (a/k/a Design & Graphics) Dale De Ruiter 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) Cowboy TexAss, Casey Bourque, Chris Walter, Jake Poole, Jason Schreurs, Adam Simpkins, Therese Lanz, Carl Spackler, David Bertrand, Herman Menervemanana, Sean Law, Phil Heidenreich, Ferdy Belland, Dave Von Bentley, Devon Cody, Dale De Ruiter The Kids (a/k/a The Interns) -internship available, call 604-734-1611Fire Insurance (a/k/a Advertising/Marketing Dept.) Brad Damsgaard, Kevin Angel, Kristin Lamont Mata Hari (a/k/a Cover Design) Miss Toby Marie Out-of-town Connections (a/k/a Distribution and Street Team) Toronto: Rosina Tassone Calgary: Rick Overwater, Mike Taylor. Edmonton: Freecloud Records, Graeme MacKinnon, Liam Harvey Oswald. Winnipeg: Phil at Steel Capped Records, Victoria/Whistler: Jono Jak, Lindsay Seattle/Bellingham: Frank Yahr The Nerve is published monthly by The Nerve Magazine Ltd. The opinions expressed by the writers and artists do not necessarily reflect those of The Nerve Magazine or its editors. The Nerve does not accept responsibility for content in advertisements. The Nerve reserves the right to refuse any advertisement or submission and accepts no responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts or artwork. All content © Copyright The Nerve Magazine 2005 Est. 1999

The Nerve Magazine 508 - 825 Granville St. Vancouver, B.C. V6Z 1K9 604.734.1611


60 years ago, a rare breed of men took to the skies to defeat the bally hun in their glorious fighting machines.

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

T H E S C R A M B L E R S 13

Nobody saw this one comin’! Vancouver legends reunite and nearly steal all the Spitfires thunder.


T H E A D O L E S C E N T S 11

Carl Spackler once again drifts several miles off topic. Adolescents singer Tony Cadena doesn’t seem to notice.

T H E R U F F N E C K S / FA B E R 19 Erm... Let’s just call this a study in contrasts....

T. V. H E A R T AT TA C K 18

Coincidentally, the guy who invented TV Dinners died last week. Spooky!


C K Y 17

Drummer Jess Margera ponders blowing up his girlfriend. We offer guidance.

K I L B O U R N E 17

These ballbreakers from Calgary won’t let us get a word in edgewise. Jeeees-us. Straight to the moon, Alice!!!

B L E E D T H E D R E A M 16

When did rock stars get so nice? So approachable? So sincere? Where have all the assholes gone???

M x P x 16

The Nerve’s newest employee manages to get my tape recorder stuck in Mike Herrera’s nose. Fucking idiot.

F I L M : R O B Z O M B I E 30

Our film editor finally gives up and panders to the Nerve’s unique metal meathead demographic.


P i l l s 34 A B r i s k W a l k w i t h M r. B e r t r a n d 9

Off the Record 26 Live Wires 24 Film 29 Books 48 Skate Spot 36 Ainsworth 34 DVD Reviews 33 Crossword/Comics 39


Epitaph_DBS_Nerve full page colour



4:18 PM

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CHEAP SHOTZ Hot Carl! Hey Carl Spackler, ya fag! loved the review, very articulate ya’ choad-smoking hack. did ya go to vcc or douglas to hone those delightfullyscathing and “oh, so cutting-edge” media skills. loved the thing with the band names, really witty howard stern. why so fucking bitter man? having difficulty stayin’ hip with the scenesters. or are you in one of those shit-ass bands we ragged on? either way, fuck you and your “bunker”, you fucking bedwetter. - cam hezzakya

Sorry – No Prize After seeing the cock shot in the latest issue of the NERVE, I immediately knew which staff ‘member’ it belonged to due to obvious lack of girth and length. Although after reading the ‘cock not shown to scale’ disclaimer, I thought I may be mistaken (very rare) until I realized you have actually blown up the image. Due to personal experience and the fact that his ‘member’ship in the world of fucking is on par with the credibility of his show reviews, I would like to expose Carl Spackler as the cock of “journalism” and in lieu of my prize - a date with Spackler - I would prefer to have my tight ass raped by a rabid dog while being force-fed the regurgitated remnants of the shiteaters at NERVE magazine. - Rashka Hey, That’s not MY Cock! You WISH I was still a “Nerve staff member.” (By the way, if people don’t get paid then they aren’t “staff”. Oh, unless you’re paying them with screw-overs.) - Emily Kendy Precious Words of Love There were many surprises in last month’s “Correctly identify the Nerve staff member’s Wang” contest. The inbox was flooded with upwards of six responses, a record for any Nerve sponsored contest. Oddly, Adrian Mack and Bradley C Damsgaard’s moms both incorrectly identified the mystery dink as Michael Mann’s. But perhaps that isn’t so odd considering the side effects of rohypnol include memory loss while the side effects of having a bag over your head include impaired vision. Former Nerve Contributor Emily Kendy sent multiple angry emails, upset that she was listed as a Nerve staff member. Us alluding that she was a female with a member was suspiciously absent from her correspondence. Sadly, no one correctly identified who the mystery penis belonged to, which means the prize jackpot grows to one date and two PHD Death Metal CDs next time a Nerve staffer leaves pictures of his/her cock on the shared computer and we print it. But really we’re all winners because the guy/girl who’s babymaker it was would likely use the date as an opportunity to case your apartment for future burglarizing. It’s Pink FLOYD, Not Pink DAVID, for Fuck’s Sake… So those crazy diamonds decided to shine once again after nearly a quarter century. Thanks to Bob Geldof’s considerable powers of persuasion, Pink Floyd reunited for this past week’s Live 8 African debt awareness spectacular with none other than the classic 1968-1983 lineup of Roger Waters (vocals, bass), David

Sir Arthur

Gilmour (vocals, guitar), Richard Wright (vocals, keyboards), and Nick Mason (drums), for a live audience of 50,000 and a worldwide satellite/internet audience of 40 quintillion. Apparently these psychedelically depressed geezers can still cook it up live, and caused post-performance sales of their Echoes greatest hits collection to skyrocket about 38 million percent, so everyone from London to Neptune now can mutter along with “Comfortably Numb” when the waterbong finally fizzles out at dawn. When big man pig man David Gilmour (who’s had Pink Floyd all to himself over the past 20 fucking years) was asked the million-pound question by a lucky bastard journalist after the show: “So... what was it like to play with Roger Waters again?” Gilmour: “Sort of like sleeping with your ex-wife.” Shut the fuck up, Dave. If Roger hadn’t convinced you to ditch Jokers Wild when the acid and the porkchops became too much for old Barrett, you’d still be playing half-assed Bo Diddley covers to bored, pale, obese Euroweenies in some Ibiza bar. Nobody wants to hear any more Division Bell garbage out of you, just like we never wanted to hear A Momentary Lapse of Horseshit. Ha ha, charade you are. While you’re at it, I’m sure Richard Wright and Nick Mason are looking desperately for a chance to record a real album again, and not some numbfuck solo album of dipshit ideas like they’re notorious for. And by the way, About Face fucking BLEW. Get it, David? YOU’RE FUCK ALL WITHOUT ROGER WATERS. For the love of Syd, let Roger back into the fold and then you can buy THREE mansions in the south of France, and not just a measly one. Take your rightful secondary position as the musical sculptor of Roger Water’s crystalline visionary concepts, which unite stoners and loners alike. Shit, you’ll probably get knighted before you’re 70. And if the band you’re in starts playing different tunes, we’ll see you on... ahh, go fuck yourself, Dave. And lose the extra chins. We love you, Roger, you crotchety old bastard, you. - Ferdy Belland

“ I tried being gay in the 90’s... it sucked, I hated it.” Adrian Mack, Music Editor and Janitor of Nerveland

Travel the Universe with Your Dog! You’ll probably never get to see Roky Erikson and you definitely won’t get to see Syd Barrett, Skip Spence or even Arthur Lee (if you live in Vancouver). Thank God, or Yod anyway, that Rumbletone Productions is bringing the still living, breathing and apeshit crazy psych pioneer Sky Saxon to the WISE Hall on August 13th. Saxon is apparently in fine health these days and his new Seeds allegedly rip it up and then lick it. As if that’s not enough good news already, the Fiends, Raised by Wolves and the Tranzmitors finish off the bill. Wot an embarrassment of riches, sir! Don’t miss it! “Garage music is not bad, because Christ was born in a manger, which was probably like a garage of that time.” - Sky Saxon

What You Should Do Do you see that pretty picture? That’s the Parlour Steps and they will be holding a CD release party at the Railway Club on August 26th. We’re getting behind this show because we’ve seen Parlour Steps a number of times now, we’ve developed a crush, we’ve heard the new album, The Great Perhaps, we think it’s great, we think they’re great, they think we’re great, everybody’s beautiful and we want you to join in. Just think about the possibilities. Neins Circa and Motion Soundtrack don’t so much open as radiate.

Rich Hope Leg Extension Procedure a Success! Local song ‘n’ dance man Rich Hope is looking a little different these days. That’s because doctors successfully added ten inches to his overall height using an experimental process called “surgery”. Apparently, Rich plans to undergo a series of procedures that will eventually have him towering over most humans by a projected 30 feet. The new acrylic limbs can also withstand temperatures of up to 212 F, consequently making re-entry into the earth’s atmosphere much less dangerous for the talented bluesman. - Lancet

Competition Time! Would you like a signed Buck 65 lithograph? You would? Then answer this skill-testing question: How old is Nerve Kingpin Badly Damaged? Now how old is he, really? First correct answer gets the swag. The next five get a copy of Buck 65’s Secret House Against the World.

Good Luck, Boys This mysterious, photocopied ‘Manifesto’ was sent to the Nerve last month, and is apparently the recipe for success as conceived by a certain Vancouver band that has previously never been mentioned in our magazine before (and probably never will be). I’m sure they’ll be choked to read that our interest extends about as far as this completely insane and deluded, Tony Robbins-like swing at Maximum Awesomeness, and no further (unless we can get pictures of their genitals, obviously). On the other hand, we’re sure that they’ll have the last laugh as their well-practiced “angst, alienation, frustration and isolation”, not to mention the “cooler sex attitude”, should get a real workout at the top of the Canadian charts or the food court at Pacific Centre – whichever career trajectory comes first for our heroes. One thing’s for sure – you’ll never get anywhere if you DON’T STAY IN TUNE, DAVE!!!

Answers to Competition Time Part Deux We have a couple of vinyl copies of the Spitfires’ glorious 2002 album Three just sitting here in front of a south facing window. Tell us which of the following is not of Hungarian extraction to win: Jay Solyom (Singer, the Spitfires) Don Adams (Actor, Get Smart) Drew Barrymore (Got her tits out on Letterman) Nelson Mandela (Former President of South Africa) Answers to

Next month in the Nerve: Robert Dayton reports on his starring role in the New Pornographers latest video ...and we talk to East Van’s terrrifying Mongoose























with with special special guests guests

With their unique style of "Heavy-Metal-Cello-Mayhem", Apocalyptica successfully fuses together the seemingly disparate worlds of classical music & hard rock







DOORS DOORS 7:00 7:00 PM PM SHOW SHOW 7:30 7:30 PM PM


The Adolescents with the Excessives and Tranzmittors Aug 5, Richard's on Richards CKY w/Fireball Ministry and The Knives Aug 15, Croatian Cultural Centre Stratovarius Oct 5, Commodore Ballroom Suffocation Oct 18, Commodore Ballroom


McWhores w/ Sleaze Column


ot really a stroll so much this month (I tend not to leave the house), but got so lucky as to stumble upon page 99 of The Georgia Straight issue #1955, a full page ad spread for “McDonald’s Presents Destiny’s Child – Destiny Fulfilled… And Lovin’ It Tour”. My rap-inclined friend (I have a few) tells me that this horrendous union is nothing new - apparently Beyonce, that worthless scab, regularly waxes off PR sessions about her love of the Golden Arches. Collecting blood money from the Hamburgler. What a role model for the Barbies of today! I also hear that Beyonce films snuff vids with Puerto Ricans in the bowels of

her bootylicious L.A. R&B mansion, but this isn’t confirmed. Yet. Not that I care about moral corruption or whatever. Sometimes I feel bootylicious too. I mean, it’s a hard world. But my god, just picture

planned Batman Returns cash-ins because the film was deemed too sexual for impressionable youngsters. Just sayin’. McDonald’s made a much better effort at whoring the youth back in 1986, when they cofunded (with Coca-Cola and others) the production of a feature film, Mac & Me. It was a pitiable, god-awful E.T. rip-off, a marketing ploy from the ground up. But it’s worth spending your life insurance (it won’t cost you that much) to track down, if just for one incredible scene – a nonplot significant sojourn to a McDonald’s restaurant, where Ronald McDonald and the rest of the cast and crew seem to have suddenly consumed gallons of DMT-laced McDonald’s Orange Drink and filmed the whole disturbing event. Magically the whole world turns revoltingly ass-backwards and a bizarre dance-off ensues: flamboyantly homosexual black men in spandex vs. flamboyantly homosexual black men in football outfits. Screaming, grooving children on all fronts, the alien (named Mac, of course) dancing on the serving counter with fully uniformed McDonald’s employees boogying in unison. Then it all takes off outdoors, where staff, customers, Ronald, and dozens of homosexual black men run about like Baalic revelers, consumed in a godless cheeseburger frenzy. There is so much uncontrollable energy by this point that the whole filthy thing seems to explode off the screen and grab you right by the vaginal lip. Just total madness, really. The story then moves on and everyone acts

like this dip into Hades never really happened. Those who clap on about the disturbing nature of the Guinea Pig films or Cannibal Holocaust have likely never seen Mac & Me. It is a spectacle in corporate madness the likes of which has never been seen before or since. Product placement with all the subtlety of an atom bomb. Oh yeah… and if you’re interested, that awful Destiny’s Child concert costs $63-$83 (plus mandatory $8.75 surcharge). It is also sponsored by THE PROVINCE, CLEAR CHANNEL ENTERTAINMENT, and THE BEAT 94.5, the combined evils of which are just too disgusting to mention.n

I also hear that Beyonce films snuff vids with Puerto Ricans in the bowels of her bootylicious L.A. R&B mansion, but this isn’t confirmed. Yet. this: CEO of McDick’s and the DC dance choreography team, together, all esophagi clogged with new deli-style Reuben’s sandwiches. Writhing in agony. BEEE-AUTIFUL! Back in ’92, McDonald’s withdrew all its




Spackler Ain’t the Only One in a Prolonged



By Carl Spackler

anger, action, thrills, pills, and pool skating! These are a few of my favorite ‘tings! Oh yes kiddies, the purveyors of some of my finest boyhood memories are coming to town soon. Shit, by the time you read this, the show has probably come and gone. And you either are in the know or you blew it. The first time I heard the Adolescents on the B.Y.O. comp Someone Got Their Head Kicked In, I was hooked. Needed it, had to have it. At 14 all I had was that record, my Duane Peters Santa Cruz skate, and chronic masturbation. Not much has changed, ‘cept I got a Hosoi pocket rocket this summer, and my cock is becoming quite leathery from all these years of playin’ ‘Handle the Candle’. I spoke to lead singer Tony Cadena and kept ‘Dillinger’ in my pants for at least 30 mins. (That’s a great name for a cock, Spackler. Good job. – Music Ed.) Nerve: How come you guys can get across the border? Don’t you all have records? Tony: We all have passports, so it’s no big deal. But it literally costs us $500 to come up there and play that one show so out of any potential earnings we have, we get nailed for that right off the bat. As a matter of fact we’ll end up leaving all our merchandise here… it’s not worth the hassle. Nerve: Even with a work permit you can’t bring merch? Tony: Well, we get taxed so bad that by the time we actually got down to the selling of it we’d end up paying it all in taxes. Nerve: Here’s what you do… you open up the back of those big speaker cabinets You put ‘er right in there and seal ‘em back up. No problem. Tony: [laughing] I guess we could bring some up and say that they’re promotional… Nerve: But you guys are at least allowed in, unlike your good friends TSOL - those guys are never gonna come across the border. Tony: You know, I don’t know what the reason is but we’ve managed to kinda stay out of trouble. I’m not saying that they got in trouble. Nerve: No, no, of course not… grave robbing, driving vans through music store windows and loading up all the gear, stabbings, riots, beating up a couple of pigs while wearing a pink tutu. How could that ever get you into trouble? Tony: Knowing them as well as I do and for as long as I have, I can certainly see where there’s a problem there. They’ve done some things, Jack’s done some really crazy stuff. Jack’s also done some stuff… Jack got me out of real jam once. I was about to be arrested. I had stolen a large piece of cheese from a deli tray. We were at a party at the Coconut Grove right before they shut it down. We’d walked into a Hollywood Reporter party and there was this huge fucking spread and at the time I was homeless and I was there with my girlfriend, who is now my wife, and I asked the guy, ‘What do you do with all this food?’ And he goes, ‘Oh well, you know, it’s usually just garbage after these things.’ And I was thinking to myself, well shit, that’s a pretty nice piece of cheese. I could live off of that piece of cheese for four days. So I took it. Reached right over, picked it up and put it in my jacket. Now granted, I was stealing. But I was stealing food and I was hungry and it was there on the table to be eaten and the man told me that they were going to throw it away. So I got caught. The guy grabbed my arm and started shaking it because I wouldn’t admit that the cheese was there and was holding it tight enough to my chest with my upper arm that it wasn’t going to fall out of my jacket. He couldn’t reach in a grab it because he didn’t have the authority to do that. But he’d already called up the hotel security to take me downstairs to have me arrested. My wife just started squealing and laughing and busting up. At the other end of the table, Jack was there with like three of his friends and he had his dick out and he was touching the food with it on the other side of the table. That created such an outrage

and such an uproar that the guy let go of me. Of course I ran right out the door, and Jack completely got me out of trouble. So Jack’s done a lot of great things. Not always what other people would consider the most respectful of ways to do it, but he certainly saw that I was in trouble and

last night of demolition? Tony: Oh yeah. I was in town and I stopped by. Mike was in the hospital that night, kinda in a lock up at the time. Got out and the place was gone. Nerve: I guess he didn’t get the damage deposit back on that one.

Somebody busted the aquarium and the aquarium smelled like eight months of dead funk and it spilled out all over the carpet. You don’t get a smell like that out of a carpet. You don’t get a smell like that out of your soul. I can still smell it. It’ll never go away.

found a way to get me out of it. Little things like that have made me hold Jack in high regard. He’s a great guy. Nerve: When was the last time you played with those guys? Tony: We did a benefit when Jack was running for Governor of California. Nerve: Was that the show they got shot at? Tony: No, that show happened before. That was the second to last time we did a show together. Someone got shot in November and I think we did a show with those guys around February or March. It’s been a couple of years now. Not by intention, but it looks like more by design. They haven’t been playing much lately. They ran into some legal problems so that their wages were being garnished, so they had to come up with some money before they could even bother to play a show ‘cause they’d do a show and somebody would be there to collect from them. Nerve: No way. Tony: It’s a big, ugly mess and through no fault of theirs… they just happened to be on stage at the time. Nerve: Did you ever live at the Black Hole? (Legendary crash pad and inspiration for the classic song, “Kids of the Black Hole”) Tony: Yeah, I was a floor resident, a couch resident and an occasional bed resident. Nerve: And for the record, was it Steve’s apartment first? Tony: No, it was actually Mike Ness’ apartment. After that, it was some other kid’s. Sad, sad people whose names were on that rental agreement. Nerve: How long did that go on for? Tony: 5 to 6 months. Nerve: What was the craziest thing you saw happen there? Tony: Mike almost cutting off his finger was pretty bad. He took a knife and stabbed it into the wall and almost cut off a couple fingers. That was pretty gnarly. Fell asleep one night and (unintelligible – sounds like “Omelette”), who by today’s standards would be called mentally ill, had turned on the pilot light and tried to gas us all. That was pretty crazy. Nerve: Were you there for the

– Tony Cadena remembers the Black Hole

Tony: At the time they said it was the second most damaged apartment in the history of the department that inspected it. It was absolutely trashed. Somebody busted the aquarium and the aquarium smelled like eight months of dead funk and it spilled out all over the carpet. You don’t get a smell like that out of a carpet. You don’t get a smell like that out of your soul. I can still smell it. It’ll never go away. If I catch a whiff of anyt h i n g remotely like it I go, ‘ e w w w,

Black Hole’. Eddie had a black van. We called it The Black Beauty. It was your standard black panel van but it smelled like piss, stale beer and fuck. It just had that smell. Smelled like fuck. Smelled like piss. Smelled like lots and lots of stale beer. Nerve: You’re not bringing that up here for the trip are you? Tony: No. I think that one was probably buried somewhere. It was the equivalent of The Black Hole, on wheels… I’m really excited to come up. I haven’t been to Vancouver before. I grew up on Vancouver bands. I listened to DOA. I listened to the Subhumans. Those were like really important bands. The DOA EP especially, that first EP, that one was like heavy rotation for me in ’78 ‘79. God that stuff was critical for me. The Subhumans album. Nerve: The Subhumans just reformed with the original lineup… other than Dimwit who passed away. They have a new demo out. Tony: I’m glad, if they can keep that thing going. He’s got such a great voice. I love that band. I thought they were fantastic. We played with them when they came down here in 1980. As our welcome to them we played “Screaming Fist” third in our set. We used to always try to put a Toronto or a Vancouver band song in our set. The Vancouver bands were really critical in my understanding of regional punk rock. It was as important as what we got from New York and England. It was actually the Los Angeles, San Francisco and Vancouver bands that made me realize that it doesn’t have to be from London or New York to make great records and have an active rock scene. Great, great bands. n




Good Gone Bald T

only a handful of people that have come of age he Scramblers were my favorite in the band’s absence are curious enough to Vancouver band in the years 1987 and attend tonight. While I could count the number of 1988. Their gigs were amazing. They were under-30’s on one hand, the packed to capacity something of an all-star act, featuring Ziggy Sigmund (ex of Vancouver’s best-ever band, room is swamped with faces from Vancouver’s old scene: beer bellies, grey hair and/or recedSlow), John ‘Doe’ Williams (ex of early ing hairlines are the order of the day, both off Vancouver punks, Rabid), the amazing front and on stage. I am happy to say that a large conman Howard Rix (from rockabilly band the tingent of the female branch of Vancouver’s vetStingin’ Hornets), Ron Allan (ex Shanghai Dog) and Randy Bowman (ex Subhumans and E n i g m a s ) . Within three seconds it’s already gone all pearPowerhouse talent shaped: Randy Bowman is playing the wrong all around. When I went off to song, Howard corrects him then proceeds to England in ‘88, I’d have the cord drop out of his own microphone. tell everybody about this fantastic Will this gig turn into a total disaster? band, confident that their first record would proeran punk/rock scene remains as hot as ever, pel them into the Guns ‘n’Roses league of pop- despite the rigors of single motherhood. And did ularity. It was not to be. The management comI really see Dave Gregg there? pany they signed to (Bruce Allan) reputedly had Rhythm guitar player Ziggy Sigmund is my them aboard as more of a tax write-off than a neighbor. I collar him first, isolate him and stick going concern. Their album was never released. the recorder in his face. The Scramblers eventually finished in a hail of frusNerve: Who got the ball rolling for this show tration and drug abuse in 1990. to happen? Fast forward to July 2005 and their old comZiggy: I guess Ron Allan got the ball rolling. pany has finally relinquished the publishing and There was a lot of phone calls, there was a lot of their debut CD has been released - 15 years e-mails, there was a lot of people involved but later. The band played at the Waldorf on Friday Ron got the ball rolling just to get us all organJuly 22nd, with the BTU’s opening. All-original ized together just so we’d hook up and all of us line-up. You can bet your ass that I was there actually get together in a room - together at the along with all the other Vancouver punks/scensame place at one time. esters from the old scene. Nerve: Did you have any major hurdles to It’s a sad testimony to the Scramblers failed cross as far as getting this gig together? greatness that in the15 years after their demise, Ziggy: No


So I said, “OK, I’ll come”. Then it turned into April, and now it’s July, as you know. Nerve: What happened with the original recordings? How did it come to pass that they ended up in limbo? John: Well, the aborted album, the Elektra album, the Bruce Allan Elektra album - it got aborted. We were told basically that it was John ‘Doe’ a bit too rough Williams has and ready for always been the times. These the epitome of are basically cool; raven rough mixes hair, English from those background, recordings and a killer guitar riffs few others stuand personal dios as well, and style galore. I a couple of live used to live tracks. So we with his sister, decided to pick back in the day. and choose, we (I can’t believe I had copies lying just said ‘back around. We had in the day’ – Wait a minute, is this the same tape recorder to pick and please kill me). that went up Mike Herrera’s nose? choose the I grab him next: mixes because we didn’t have the original masNerve: Hey John. So here we are at a ters anymore… Scramblers gig, 15 years later. Did they phone you in England or what? You were sitting at Nerve: Other than that, what’s happening for you these days? home, minding your own business and… John: …and I got a message from my sister, you John: I work and live in England. I live here too remember her… occasionally. I have a place in Nelson. Between Nerve: Yeah, yeah. the two my main income is over there. I play in John: …that Randy Bowman was trying to con- bands over there, nothing serious. I’m gonna do this tact me. That’s all I knew. So I phoned him up gig, then go into the bush, find a bear and have a and he said that we were doing a gig in March. coffee I think… continued on p.14 Nerve: How did practices go? Ziggy: Yes. Nerve: Will this gig be once only or will there be any more? Ziggy: We’ll see after tonight… We’ll see after this interview… If this interview works out, we might do another show. Or another interview, one or the other.





I had been at drummer Randy Bowman’s 50th birthday party/gig at the Waldorf a few weeks before. Most of the bands he’d been in played at that show, with the exception of the Scramblers. At one point between sets I had instantly recognized the Scramblers song “Good Gone Bad” coming through the house system. This was a mind-blower for me, as the last time I’d heard that song was in 1988 - when they had played it at one of their gigs. Nerve: So how did this come to pass? Randy: Ron Allan phoned me up and said that Penta Records has agreed to release the music to us… Nerve: The publishing? R: Yes, exactly. He said, “OK, we’re gonna go for it”, he had some money, “I’m gonna put it together, we’ll get a bunch of CDs and put it out.” Nerve: How were the practices? Randy: It started clicking right away. I think the band’s actually playing better than it used to because we’ve all had another 14 years of playing experience, so everybody’s got better chops. Nerve: Is Bruce Allan here tonight? Randy: I haven’t seen him. If Bruce wanted to come, he’s welcome. Ron Allan is the man responsible for finally issuing the Scramblers debut. Here’s the lowdown: Ron: Basically it started through a mid-life crisis. I was going through all of my old tapes and outtakes and things like that for all the bands I’d been in. I was going to do a Shanghai Dog disc at first, and I came across a bunch of the Scramblers stuff. I really liked it, especially the live stuff. I managed to get the songwriting back from Bruce Allan and Sam Feldman and all those guys. I dug up as many tapes as I could and sifted through the stuff that had sound quality left, and performance. It’s the first record I’ve ever done from top to bottom and it was a lot of work, but I’m glad it’s out. Nerve: Is this the first release for your label? Ron: Yes, I’m really enjoying the process of putting out records and pushing bands. I’m hoping that Doug Andrew and Circus In Flames do their next CD on our label. Nerve: How does it come to pass that Ron Allan, Scramblers bassist, moves to Texas in 1998? Ron: When The Scramblers broke up I sort of threw away my bass and said, “That’s it, I’m never playing again”. I had dropped out of school when I was in Grade 9 and I started going to school because I didn’t really know what else to do. I ended up doing a degree in Computer Science. I got a headhunter from Texas who said, “Hey, you wanna come live in Austin?” So I said yes. Of all the members of the Scramblers present, vocalist Howard Rix looks like the one who has missed the most meals in the 15-year interim. Mere minutes from show time, the following interview takes place: Nerve: Tell me how this gig came to pass for you. Howard: Well, the gig had been confirmed, and I’m not a computer guy, and these guys had been e-mailing each other left and right. I called Randy up and said, “Hey, any chance of this gig coming up?” And he said, “Don’t you know?! We’re booked! 22nd at the Waldorf!” And I had no idea – it had been booked long before I knew about it. So two weeks ago I found out I’m play-


ing this gig and I’m happy it’s happening. I’m not a computer e-mail guy so I was in the dark from the rest of the band. Nerve: How have practices been? Howard: Some songs sound better than expected, and some sound worse than expected. I’m happy that everyone’s trying hard to do the best they can and want to enjoy themselves us much as they can – it’s all about fun this gig. Nothing but fun. Nerve: You guys had Mother Love Bone open for you at the old Graceland. Is there anything else that stands out in memory that maybe didn’t seem so important at the time but now matters with the benefit of hindsight? Howard: Looking back at all those gigs at the beautiful Town Pump. I miss that club real bad – that was our place. You don’t know what you got until it’s gone Nerve: I remember seeing you guys there many times. Now it’s a temple of computerized music. Howard: It ain’t the same club the Scramblers grew up in, that’s for sure. I thank him and he heads towards the stage, saying,“Wish me luck”. All five members have expressed similar nervousness to me and I have told each one of them that they have absolutely nothing to worry about. They were all born to rock, and I am not kidding. The band takes to the stage. Within three seconds it’s already gone all pear-shaped: Randy Bowman is playing the wrong song, Howard corrects him then proceeds to have the cord drop out of his own microphone. Will this gig turn into a total disaster? Luckily, this is the only real fuck-up the band has to contend with and they open the show properly with “Shed My Skin”. Ziggy looks like a scarecrow with an SG strapped to it, his weedy frame looking like it’s being blown over by the sound wave blasting from his own amplifier. By the second number everything is firing on all cylinders. Their pounding version of the Strangeloves “In The Nighttime” causes me to succumb to a combination of nostalgia and revelation as I realize that it was through seeing the Scramblers play it that I learned of this song in the first place. Over the course of the show they play most everything from the CD as well as some covers from the Damned, the Stooges and the Ramones. There are a few fluffed verses, missed beats, off guitar parts and Howard’s mic cord keeps dropping out but there is nothing that detracts from the overall power and buoyant energy of the gig. The entire front of the audience is a seething mass of estrogen. These same ladies get up onstage individually to dance before invading it en masse towards the end. Best song of the night has got to be “Rattle Snake Daddy”, a loping pounder that showcases all the band member’s licks. Killer. John Williams is coaxing some serious crunch out of his Les Paul. While the physical appearance of the band members is different from 1988, the sound remains the same. By the end of the show I am holding my head in my hands and am feeling more than a little faint. For an event that could have been a potential disaster it turned out to be an incredible experience. The Scramblers long-awaited debut disc (limited to 2000 copies) is available at most independent music retail outlets in Vancouver, or can be ordered via Thanks to Adam Smith for the pics - check out his website at n


continued from p.13




It's Just a Stage We're Going Through

Although I don’t recall specifically what the Bible says about doing it in the butt, I’m pretty sure they’re against it. Next question?

MxPx Ask: What Would Jesus Do? Christian Punk Counsels Sexually Corrupt Nerve Staffer

By Dale De Ruiter

Bad Religion. This year, like you say, there xPx has a new CD out and is gearing are lots of relatively new acts like My up for a North American tour. You probChemical Romance, who came out of ably remember the band for its biggest nowhere. Also, back then it was all skate hit, “Chick Magnet”, which was in rotation on punk and this year it seems to be all metalMuch Music about 8 years ago. That little ditty core and black punk, doesn't it? has some nostalgia attached to it for me. The story goes: I was at a party and ended up Herrera: I think that, like anything, kids get sleeping in the same bed with an attractive bored. They want to hear something different… female friend of mine. By some magical hapMetal is nothing new - a lot of the bands here pening, I managed to woo her and an hour sound like Iron Maiden or Metallica, or bands later we were fucking. Afterward she pulled the that, obviously, if you are a little bit older you ol' I'm weirded out by what happened and need would have listened to a lot. It doesn't matter if some time to think about the events that have it's actually new or just seems new. I think transpired - swindle. After two weeks of refusthat's why the different styles of punk rock are ing to talk to me, let alone do me anymore, we popular now. They just want something new both ended up at the same gig, watching my and something different. But just look at Green friend's band. From the stage, he said, “This Day, though they are a really good example of having the same sound over and over and over song goes out to my friend Dale, because he and putting out great records and they are biggets more pussy then a toilet seat.” When I ger than any of these bands probably will ever saw the look on her face - the disgust and utter be contempt she had for my very being - I knew I would never forget that moment in time. That's Nerve: How is MxPx today different when my buddy's band tore into their cover of today? “Chick Magnet.” Herrera: Well, I'd say that we have definiteI must point out that I do not get more ly out lasted and been steady in the punk rock pussy than a toilet seat - I would dread the scene. Back when “Chick Magnet” was really thought of coming off like a braggart about my big, we were still new so there was no real way paltry past sex life, but you can imagine how of telling if we would be around in a couple of the event would attach itself to the recollection years, but I think after 13 years as a band we of the song . It was also the summer of my first are going to stick around no matter what. We Warped Tour in '98, which MxPx played. I don't necessarily need radio hits or big videos bumped into Mike Herrera in the crowd and we just need to keep putting out records and was a little excited to meet a real life singer in touring. the flesh. Nerve: When you guys started out you Seven years later, there is little that is simiwere kind of a religious band. Has that lar to that year (ie. no-one toasts my sexual changed? exploits on stage), but I did manage to meet Herrera: I wouldn't say we were religious, I Mike Herrera once again - this time as an interwould say we were Christian. I'm still Christian. viewer as well as a fan. I think a lot changes as you grow up, beliefs Nerve: I actually saw you and met you in being one of them. The way I believe has the crowd at my first Warped Tour, in '98. changed over the years. We still have that You were one of the base but we have never headliners. What would wanted to claim that as “A lot of bands are still you say is the biggest something that could be open to being spiritual, difference between sold... These days peoWarped 1998 and just because as humans ple are just more real Warped 2005? about it. A lot of bands we have that sort of Herrera: I think the that don't know whether biggest difference is, question in mind always - they believe or not are obviously, there is a ton open to being spirituthose big life questions.” still of new bands that didn't al, just because as even exist in '98 that are humans we have that even on the main stage headlining and doing sort of question in mind always - those big life really well for themselves. In '98 we were actuquestions. Nerve: Anything else? ally on the main stage some days, and on the side stage other days. We would go back and Herrera: We just put out another record. It's forth. There are some bands that do that this called Panic. If you are a fan of MxPx, then definitely check it out. It's a bit darker. I guess a year. lot of people are claiming that it's the return of Nerve: The sound back then was dominated by good old standbys like NOFX and MxPx. It's fast and energetic.n



Bleed the Dream Play Everywhere at Once By Dale De Ruiter t was around 6:30 when I approached the Bleed the Dream tent at Warped 2005. There was a Jiffy marker scrawled sign flapping in the top left corner that read, “Brandon couldn't be here today because he had an emergency but Bleed the Dream will still be playing.” The odd thing about this piece of information was that I had already checked out a portion of the set while the band was on the Ernie Ball stage, and if you were to ask me, I would say that Bleed the Dream seemed to be playing to full muster. I met with Keith Thompson and since there was a line up of adoring fans we agreed that we would meet back at the tent in twenty minutes. Bleed the Dream's tent backed on to the Hurley Stage where Horror Pops were playing, so I decided to go check out the dancing girls. During the interview I couldn't hear Keith at all, so I just handed him the tape recorder and hoped that he gave me some good answers. Nerve: The obvious question is what happened to Brandon? Keith: Brandon didn't make it through the border. It's weird because the last three times we came to Canada it has never been an issue. It was some legal thing that happened years ago that restrained him. He is taking care of that right now so that will never be a problem again. Today we had to pretty much wing it without him. I am not the lead singer, but today I was. But it's cool. The kids seemed to still like it and we had a good time. We have to keep going on in true Bleed the Dream action. Nerve: How many albums do you guys have out now? Keith: The new record's been out for over two months. We have two EPs that are not available in stores, that you can only get at shows. We wanted to keep it that way. It's just a cool thing so only the kids who are really down or are true fans have the EPs. We have gotten distribution deals and offers for those EPs but it's like, screw it, we are going to own them ourselves and the kids that actually want them can order them online from us or come to the show. It is the same with the DVD that we put out, like, five months ago. Nerve: Usually a band tries to shop themselves out and reach the biggest pos-


sible audience through distribution and such, but you guys would rather stay true to fans and give them quality over quantity? Keith: We were pretty much against the Hollywood thing from the beginning. All of us have been in bands a million times that have been promised a brass ring and been promised a huge record deal and it didn't happen. We kinda just want to do things ourselves and own our own music for a while, go out hit the road and actually make a legit army. Like the kids are actually a part of it, not just because they saw some reviews or they saw us on Much Music. It was important for us to do the grass roots thing for a long time just to create our own identity. Nerve: You are going on a North Canadian tour - is Warped a part of that or is the tour starting afterward? Keith: After the Warped tour we're doing 11 Canadian dates. We're going up through Boston then onto Montreal, Quebec City and Toronto. We're going to hit all the major markets with 10 to 11 shows, then we're going to come back down the west coast and then we will do a full US headlining tour. After we play Canada we won't be back till the Taste of Chaos next year Nerve: Is this your first Warped tour? Keith: No, this is our third Warped tour, but the first year we were not invited. We just showed up everyday. We were a nuisance and they had to kick us off the tour and tell us not to show up. I guess the hard work got us the right to show up the next year, which was last year, and we played 22 dates on the Volcom stage. This year we're playing every stage. We played the main stage a couple times and we also played the Volcom, Hurley, Ernie Ball. Nerve: Is there anything else you would like to say? Keith: Beer. I want to drink beer right now. Tons of beer… Everyone that is in a band cannot take their band mates for granted because you never know when something is going to happen, like that person who you share your inspiration, your creativity with won't be around. Never take the band practice for granted, or playing the show. Bleed the Dream plays at Mesa Luna on August 31st n

“This is our third Warped tour, but the first year we were not invited. We just showed up everyday. We were a nuisance and they had to kick us off the tour and tell us not to show up.”

Kilbourne is Choosy about Members


By Dale De Ruiter

ilbourne is a post hardcore-screamo-all-girlpunk band from Calgary. After hearing their freshly released CD, Measure of Health, I had the obscene pleasure of interviewing Trezzy, the motor-mouthed-political-geeky-makes-it-hardto-breathe-when-you-realize-a-hot-as-fuck-girl-isjoking-about-cock-on-the-other-end-of-the-phonefirecracker-guitarist-vocalist. Nerve: Does being in an all-girl band of selfdescribed feminists lead to negative attention? Trezzy: Some radio station called me at 9 am the first words out of the guy’s mouth after all the blah blah radio station preamble are, “So you must really hate men, eh?” That was just the wrong foot to get off on with me. Nerve: Well, there goes my second question. Just kidding. Trezzy: Yeah, you better be kidding. Actually, we just played Warped tour on the Shira Girl stage and we were hanging out at the merch tent after our set in Vancouver, and this guy comes up, “Sooo, you’re playing on the man hating stage, hey?” Nerve: A lot of men don’t really know how to deal with feminism. They see Shira as elevating women in rock, but believe that you up women by downing men. Trezzy: Well fuck that! What I said to the guy after that comment was, “Actually, we love the cock.” Nerve: I am totally putting that in the article. Trezzy: Oh come on, my mom’s gonna read that! You should have seen the look on the guy’s face. He really didn’t know what to say to that. Nerve: He was probably like, “Payday!” Trezzy: Well no, we’re not indiscriminate cock lovers. Nerve: Aww… Trezzy: I think that the notion of being a strong woman automatically making you a man hater is really antiquated… In my opinion [when] we went from the riot grrl era to the Suicide Girl era,

Music “In my opinion, the role of women in alternative culture basically changed from being musicians and activists to being porn stars… and people heralding it as a new bold revolution can fucking suck me off! “ the role of women in alternative culture basically changed from being musicians and activists… to being porn stars. To me, being alternative is about values, not an aesthetic, and to me porn is a very mainstream value. That isn’t a judgment. I am not saying that everyone who reads porn is bad, quite far from it actually. I think it’s just another fetish… To me, it’s just another flavor and people heralding it as a new bold revolution can fucking suck me off! Nerve: Kilbourne is “pro-scene but antiscenester.” What does that mean? Trezzy: You know how in every scene there are always the cool kids. Always in with the right people, talking to the right people and going to the right parties and so on and so forth? Yeah, we’re like the opposite of that. Nerve: So you’re geeks. Trezzy: Well fuck yeah! Represent! Ain’t nobody geeks quite like we’re geeks. Nerve: Is there any weird dynamics between you and your sister Franny? Trezzy: We often refer to each other as heterosexual life mates. We don’t like anyone else. The only dynamic is we work really well together. I’m the art fag and she takes care of the technical details. Nerve: Do you think it kind of alienates your other members at all? Trezzy: No. I’ve been in a few bands in my day and I have never been in a band that got along this well. Nerve: What is eating you up these days? What is your issue du jour? Trezzy: My issue du jour is the fact that our noble leaders here in Alberta are charging off full Cavalry style to try and get the gay marriage

thing overturned here. They are trying to get it so that Alberta can only issue civil unions. Their only argument is how same sex unions violate the sanctity of marriage. My mom was telling me - don’t take this the wrong way - that swingers clubs are all the rage right now. Like, they’re huge. My mom is a really uptight Roman Catholic Philipino, so she wouldn’t dabble in this ‘friend of a friend,’ you know. But if swingers clubs are really rampant and they say that homosexuals are violating the sanctity of marriage, like - what is that? Nerve: It was really big in the seventies. I’ve never thought that swinging ever went away, actually. Please Trezzy: I agree. Not that I really know that much about it but as an anthropologist I have read some pretty sound evidence that humans, just as primates, are strongly inclined to non-monogamy. I’ll use that to excuse my antics. Nerve: We are monogamous in every way except for our sexuality. Trezzy: So you mean our hearts are monogamous but our junk is not. Nerve: What makes you happy? What aren’t you angry about? Trezzy: I’m not actually the angry girl. That’s really not any of us. We’re super mellow people. Well, we have grievances with large demographics of people but we have a sense of humor about them. What makes me happy is CSI. Being self-employed makes me happy. Nerve: Tell us about your award-winning

! n e m o W t s n i a g A e c n e l Vio

don’t focus on our looks, big boy career as a folk singer. Trezzy: Ah fuck, I knew this was gonna fucking come up, FUCK! Here is what happened - last year I read in ffwd, which is our music weekly [in Calgary], there was an article about this Folk Song competition and the winning entries and how disappointing they were. The lyrics from the winning song were printed and the excerpt was something like, “Alberta, Alberta you’re so grand, Alberta, Alberta, you’re my homeland,” and I was like, “psssh… I can write a fucking folk song.” So I did and it won. Out of a 170 entries. It was a total lark and it kinda pisses me off that it garnered me and Kilbourne more attention than anything I actually care about. Check for tour details n

CKY Fans Beat Up on Rolling Stone Critic


mixed reviews. Why do you think that is? ast week I was contacted about doing a Jess: I think a lot of our fans, y’know, they’re all last minute interview with CKY. The official starting to get it now. I think it flew right over the reason was that they really wanted the Nerve to do a piece on them this month, but I heads of a few of them and they were like, oh it’s immediately suspected it was a ploy to get me to not as good as the other albums. I think once you listen to this one a couple times, you start to earn my spot on the guest list for the band’s Vancouver show this month. Despite my suspihear what’s going on. cions - and fully aware of how much of a whore Nerve: Did you want to make any comment I am - I eagerly agreed to play the part. on the Rolling Stone bullshit that’s going on? Lounging in the Nerve office, I awaited the (For those who don’t know the background call from CKY drummer, Jess Margera (yes – on this, type in Rolling Stone and CKY in he’s Bam’s brother). It wasn’t until my clothes Google and you’ll find out. It’s funny.) were thoroughly saturated with the stench of Jess: Yeah dude, that’s so lame. They’ve been what was waiting to either the 93¢ do that for “Our fans are insane. You try and pull pizza from the three years. that shit, they’re just going to make joint at the We gave bottom of the them so you hate life.” building, or much shit Jess Margera the 93¢ pizza about the on why you should watch what you say about CKY, bitch. at the bottom last record of a Nerve review, so staffer’s ass, that the phone finally rang. of course they wanted to do it again, but we won. Nerve: How do you think CKY’s music has That lady who did the review is like, scared now. progressed from your first release to the Our fans are insane. You try and pull that shit, newest one, An Answer Can Be Found? they’re just going to make you hate life. Jess: Our old records have cool things about Nerve: They just pummeled them with hate them that I love, but it seems like this is our emails, right? record where we get to show off a bit. The riffs Jess: Yeah, the lady said she felt threatened. It was pathetic. They have no business writing are a bit more technical - the guitar parts espeabout my band. They have no idea what’s going cially, and some of the timing. on. They don’t know musicianship at all. Who’s on Nerve: The guitar riffs are definitely the cover? It’s like, Ashley Simpson or some shit. more intense. Jess: I feel sorry for those guys ‘cause they’re all Nerve: If you could tour with any band, living, over the place. dead, disbanded or otherwise, who would it be? Nerve: The new album has garnered some Jess: Me personally? It would have to be Led

By Devon Cody

Zepplin. Fortunately, a lot of our favorite living bands, we’ve already gotten to play with. I can die happy now. Nerve: Back in 2002, you guys were supposed to open up for Guns ‘N’ Roses here in Vancouver. Unfortunately, the show was cancelled and riots ensued. Do you guys remember what you guys did later that night? Jess: We showed up like twenty minutes before the show and heard it was cancelled. Then when we heard they were rioting outside, some of our camera guys went out and filmed some of it. Nerve: What is THE tour story you’ll be telling when you’re old, senile, and wearing diapers? Jess: Damn, there’s so many to pick from. The last time I was in Toronto, we got so hammered, but for some reason the show went really well. We all played well even though we were out of our gourds. We went to this strip club called the Brass Rail and Axl was there and we CKY prepare to storm Bartertown with were hangin’ out with him. It was just a newest member, Jamie Al-Farr lot of fun. Nerve: Hmmm… hangin’ with Axl, surrounded by naked broads. Life is good. Sabbath or something. As for us, we’re just Jess: Yeah it was nuts. Then “November Rain” gonna play like crazy and get lost in the music. came on and he was like, I’m outta here. If you’ve never seen a CKY show, you don’t get Nerve: So what can we expect when CKY, the full effect of what we do. Fireball Ministry, and The Knives roll into town on the 15th? CKY play an all ages show at The Croatian Jess: Fireball is great. I love them. They opened Cultural Centre Monday, August 15th. n for us in Europe last time. They’re like the new THE NERVE AUGUST 2005 PAGE 17



by Ferdy Belland

Rocking to the Aorta of the Matter


move and breathe) is a rare treat. No, this is not a Mark-II recycling of Speed To Kill; that band relied heavily on urban-lusty Bowie-glam for sound and look, and there’s no eyeliner or burgundy leather jackets present now. TVHA’s refined and precise take on dark, muscular Britpop sensibilities is genuine and intriguing. No one locally writes of tortured love and inner turmoil like Jason Corbett, who’s turned down the STK flash for a more serious

by an aggro bouncer who wasn’t thrilled to find Dom with, “a very big bag with very little pot in it.” Was the bouncer pissed at the pot or the lack of it? Dom couldn’t say. After a brief shouting scuffle, Dom fled the club unscathed with “YOU’LL NEVER FUCKING SET FOOT IN HERE AGAIN!!!” howling down Granville Street after him. And in classic rebel-outlaw-of-the-people style, Dom is not only back inside the Roxy under the management’s very noses, but he’s

"Everything was going right for that band… and we were all geared to see what would happen. But then, before we knew it, we were slowing to a stop and couldn't regain any momentum, either in the studio or as a live band. And then my girlfriend crashed my car."

-Jason Corbett on the demise of Speed to Kill

delivery, no less honest or engaging. His occupying the highest vantage-point in the strong voice is as piercing as ever, carried club: the drum riser. Too perfect. To be fair, even if the Tuesday Night atop the bands well-carven wall of sound. The guitar interplay of Corbett and Indie Showcase can be a lottery at times, Nordstrom is always a study in tasteful har- the Roxy truly is one of the best Vancouver monies and chordal call-and-response. Jeff rooms to watch live bands. Tonight, everyone won the P o w e l l ’s jackpot. It’s a propulsive, surprisingly melodic bass good turnout lines add for a work much of the n i g h t . songs’ memoEveryone’s r a b l e been juiced melodies, a up by the lead instruhilariously ment unto enjoyable itself. Arthur opening band icy Guest’s Rock’n (more keyboards add on them later, impressive I swear) and counterpoint are all lines or thrumenthralled by ming backTVHA’s brisk, grounds, tight set. And sometimes when Corbett within the chops off the same song. last chord to The band is their last synced tight song and with rockingsays a polite hard-in-place thank you stagemanship. and goodThen there’s night to the Dom; he’s audience, p l a y i n g that’s it. No hunched over false hesitahis kit tonight tion onstage with his feafor an encore tures hidden not that’s behind his happening. shades and his And I'll tell you something else Mikey, I fuck Just four plahoodie cowl you right were you breathe, ‘cause I don't toons’ worth pulled down give two shits about you... or nobody else! of people left low as he on their feet or in their seats. There was smashes away with the solid muscle and tasteful confidence which earn his Something Different and Something well-deserved rep - the Unadrummer in Special here, and some of them even Got action. Once again the article’s focus slips It, the first time around. n to Dom. The previous evening, Dom was confronted in the Roxy’s backroom lounge PHOTO: MASTER ANDY



his article should be about Vancouver’s mercenary drummer supreme Dominic Coletta; the city revolves around him whether anybody knows it or not. I’m working my way through a chicken burger in the somberly black-clad, yet chipper company of one of the many exciting bands Dom drums with TV Heart Attack. Lounging easy in the booth with four days’ stubble and Donnie Brasco Ray-Bans, Dom is a living reminder of the ‘70s, where Italians reigned supreme in North American pop culture... mighty Mediterranean demigods in their dawning prime named Travolta, Scorsese, Coppola, Cimino, Pacino, DeNiro, and Stallone. Men wanted to be them, women wanted to be with them. So like I said, by rights this should be a full Dom Coletta feature spread, but I just needed you to know that Vancouver is nothing without Dom Coletta. Now let’s talk about the real reason why we’ve called you all here... TV Heart Attack’s Phoenix-style emergence from the ashes of Speed To Kill is described thusly by vocalist-guitarist-songwriter Jason Corbett: “Everything was going right for that band. The songs were great, the band was great, our local gigs were high energy and well attended. We recorded with Jack Endino, we were courted by 604 Records, and we were all geared to see what would happen. But then, before we knew it, we were slowing to a stop and couldn’t regain any momentum, either in the studio or as a live band. And then my girlfriend crashed my car.” Cemetery silence hangs thick and cold over the booth at Roxy Burger. Said car is described sadly and respectfully as a white Ford Mustang, now presumably lost and twisted in a Surrey autowreckers. “That was the last straw. Here I was, wrestling

with all the tension and angst of watching STK fade away, and now THE MUSTANG??? Enough was enough. I’d already had new songs on the go, so I used the settlement to invest in sessions with Howard Redekopp at Mushroom Studios. And that’s when TV Heart Attack began forming.” Corbett saw STK’s rhythm section amicably break away on their own paths (drummer Rob Chursinoff plays fulltime with Tegan and Sara, while bassist Wes Regan is pursuing solo songwriting and multimedia design), leaving only the trusty guitar wizard Kelly Avril Nordstrom by his side... ever-positive, ever-present, and one of the most talented and versatile guitarists on the West Coast. Having cut his teeth as a mind-boggling thrash-metal / jazz-fusion prodigy, over the years Nordstrom continues to be the perfect musical foil for Corbett’s songwriting. “Writing over the wintertime places you into a darker, more introspective mood,” Corbett continues. “If you can’t escape Seasonal-Depression Disorder, you can at least funnel it into creativity. The songs kept coming out, which is how I like it. And it wasn’t a redundant rehash of Speed To Kill. New times and new thoughts brought out new sounds. Now I needed new players.” Corbett and Dom had been meshing musically and personally beforehand, and the full rhythm section of bassist Jeff Powell and keyboardist Arthur Guest were onboard by early 2005. The demos were evolving into a full-fledged album, and with a full band now a reality, Corbett now finds himself back where he belongs. “We’ll see what happens with the album once it’s done, which should be after the summer,” says Corbett. “First things first.” So I head back to the Roxy for TV Heart Attack’s Tuesday night indie showcase. I don’t come here often; isn’t there a bylaw against charging $5.25 for a pint of fucking Molson Canadian? I give the bored-looking, gum-cracking bouncers the wary eye; these are the hyper-testosteroned lummoxes who once denied me entrance... what do you mean, a tattered Sleez Beez T-shirt and drywall-dusted green sweatpants aren’t up to Roxy dress code? Tonight I’m dressed decently enough to enter Vancouver’s last great rock room of yesterdecade. TV Heart Attack is a great live band, and to see them in action onstage at the Roxy (where a five-piece band has room to




Don’t Let Your Babies Grow up to be Ruffnecks!

cliques, expectations, or scene politics. But the exuberant attitude and talent of the local bands I’ve scene recently do fire up memories of old. The Insaniacs and Squareheads, for example, play this as well if not better than any bands in the beginning. As far as original school folks, I never see anyone from that era except when some used-to-be never-was band shows up and they put on their punk costume and reminisce about how cool they once were. Nerve: Pat, you play the drums so you’ve probably always had the best view of things that have happened at shows. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever seen playing behind the other Ruffnecks? Pat: Besides Norman’s balls bouncing around in pink angora? Maybe after a song was over, lookA little nerve tonic before the ing over the drum riser and not seeing anyone in my band anywhere. Closer inspection revealed while now, what is the funnest thing about their twisted, intermingled bodies as they had being in the band... what is it that keeps knocked each other out during a punk rock things fresh Ruffneck climax. “As far as original school folks, I never and keeps it going? Nerve: What see anyone from that era except when N o r m : do you think According to Nerve readsome used-to-be never-was band Pat, it’s makers should shows up and they put on their punk ing out with know about t h e costume and reminisce about how cool 14 year old girls. For me, Winnipeg they once were.” it’s the scene? chance to Ben: We unleash the aggression from the nine to five have the most diverse mix of sounds and styles grind. Ben likes the fact he finally found a place from the some of the best talent we have ever he can be a jackass and get away with it. seen. Not that I’m biased, but I’d rather see our Nerve: If Chris Walter wrote a book about local talent than most of this overrated crap that you guys, what would it be called? comes waltzing into town. Nerve: You guys have been around for a Norm: Well, Chris and I go way back. We played

driving test never hurt anyone



t seems a lot of people take great pains to define what punk rock really is. I wish the best of luck to rock journalists and internet messageboard users worldwide as their endless quest to find the answer continues. For those of us who live in Winnipeg it’s pretty easy, though… ”Go see the Ruffnecks play at the Albert!” The Ruffnecks’ sonic attack combines the furious and edgy sounds of early ‘80s punk/hardcore with outlaw country - which singer/guitarist Ben Giroux explains is a fairly natural fit. It even seems the slam dancers will summon as much energy for a bitter, slow country tune as they will for the punk anthems. While the band has been together since 2002, it’s only recently that they’ve been getting the respect they deserve. With a new CD to show off, they’re also starting to headline some bills (note: Ben prefers to play second to last so he’s not TOO drunk though!) I decided to shoot a few questions their way: Nerve: You have a reputation for being somewhat ‘dangerous’ onstage, would you agree with that? Norm: It depends on one’s meaning of ‘dangerous’. To us and our friends, it’s all in the name of having a good time. But to the weak of heart, seeing Ben and I tangled in a twisted mess with our pants down drinking shots between beers and jumping so high we split our skulls on the ceiling… it might seem ‘dangerous’. Nerve: Norm, you’ve seen the Winnipeg punk scene evolve since the ‘70s. Would you say it’s as exciting as in the beginning? What’s with the return of so many characters from the scene of old? Norm: No, it will never have the thrill of the virgin scene of the late ‘70s early ‘80s. There were no

By Phil Heidenreich

in our first band together, The Vacant Lot. Last year when we hosted his book release for Boozecan, Chris got on stage with us and we performed some classics. We tried to do a rehearsal the day before but the whisky Ben so quickly consumed meant we left him laying under the stairs with his guitar screaming feedback. Title of the book? Ask Chris when it comes out. Nerve: Do you guys have a rider when you play the Albert? Ben: Of course! We ask them not to call the cops when we drink cheap beer in the alley. Nerve: What future plans do you want to let us know about? Norm: We like to actually get asked to play a show. Also, we are trying to get our driver’s licenses back so we may tour one day. But most importantly, get Pat laid. n

Do Me a Faber! Seeds Winners Attempt to Justify Existence

likes we were hoping for??” cried Bob Mills and Rob Robson, your C-FOX big wigs. The band DalDil-Vog cleaned house during the DemoListen competition and blew everyone away with their live show. But the problem still existed, how were they gonna play this on the radio? The big wigs showed up to DDV’s studio sessions to offer their input and try desperately to save face, beseeching, ”Can you use more English?” The band stuck to its guns and was proud of their recording. As it turned out, they received little airplay and the station passed over their tracks, choosing to feature runner-up Blake Havard instead. And since then, you can bet, the heads all got together and voted, “No more culture!” So, as the year’s pass, it’s regurgitated corporate rock for you and me! The Vancouver Seeds disc offers little in the Faber - only seconds before they were sucked into a giant vacuum cleaner way of variety. A handful of local acts that pretty much do the same thing as your winners, Faber, just not as well. The Art of Dying keeps changing cally rather then in competition, both baseball and hen Lenny and Weenie left C-FOX for its name, realizing the boat has long since left. I hockey had labour problems, Susan Smith killed greener wallets that some time ago, it left was gonna tell’em it sank, but why bother? They’ll her kids and cried they were kidnapped, Forrest a real feeling of Oh-Well-idness in my just jump ship and morph into some other soundgut-belly. Rock radio really was something not to Gump and Pulp Fiction were released, there were a-like soon enough. At least if they kept their be believed in. When you can’t trust your morning 321 international terrorist attacks, a 25-percent name the same it’d DJ, whom can you trust? Well, C-FOX morning decrease from the shows continued and so did their brand of corpo431 recorded the pre- “We spend as much time on our be easier to avoid them. Rally Car’s rate rock. With acts like Sum 41, Theory of a vious year and the sounds Deadman, and Bif Naked all clogging up the airlowest annual total in image as we can. I mean we’re all recording pretty much like what waves, it’s hard to believe that there could possi23 years, sixty-six pretty good-looking guys.” you would expect it bly be any room for more. The Vancouver Seeds were anti-US attacks, to, and the Left look pretty much like you would 2005 allows for just that. More. This year’s winner, down from 88 in 1993, a small genocide in drum roll please… Faber! More on them in a secRwanda eliminated 800,000 Tutsis, and expect as well. No surprises. When asked what makes Faber standout in a Vancouver Seeds 9 was released. All of this stuff ond. city so overrun by the ‘Modern Rock’ sound, bass was news worthy but the Seeds CD had a twist in Okay, let’s set the DeLorean to the year 1994. player Jeremy Liddle states, ”Our songs are just a Kurt was murdered, Juice did it but the glove didthe tail: an East Indian flavored rock band took top cut above, and our demo has a really polished n’t fit, Nelson was in, Bosnia was in a shit-sandprize!! “What? Who voted this in? This can’t be sound. We make a conscious effort to be radio wich, Tonya found it easier to beat Nancy physihappening, what about all the Seattle sound-a-


By Trucker Bill

friendly.” They entered the studio with Theory of a Nickelfault producer/engineer Joey Moi at Mr. Nickelback himself Chad Kroeger’s very own personal studio, Mountainview. As for lyrics, Jeremy explains, “Faber (Faber’s lead singer and lyric writer is named Faber, FYI) just takes a lot of time and care.” (“I need to know this/ Am I the fool/ Am I a victim/ I’d rather know/ You’d rather kiss him goodnight/ Tonight,” from the song “It Ends”.) “We spend as much time on our image as we can. We have a pretty uniform look,” Jeremy continues, on the appearance of the band. “I mean we’re all pretty good-looking guys.” As far as the live show goes, “Energy, huge energy, we’re always jumpin’ around up there. We just want everyone that comes to see us to have a good time.” You can’t really argue with that formula. Look good, sound good, and have piles of energy live. Not to say that Faber and the rest of the bands on the Seeds compilation don’t have that winning formula, but it’s just that, a formula. When shooting for that mass appeal musically, then maybe that’s what you need: a formula. And what happens when you break formula? What happens when you take a chance, be yourself, and you don’t make an effort to get played on radio? I guess we all know the answer to that: you go broke. Maybe at the very least you die happy, knowing you gave it your all and made something really innovative and cool. Or, you become Nirvana, or Radiohead, or your fearless leaders, Nickleback. They invented that sound you’re all going for, after all. And what if modern radio was to actually play something innovative and cool… who knows what might happen? Maybe they’d get more listeners. n





Spitfires Are Rock ‘ n




Important Spitfires Facts

* “The Spitfires are Rock’n’Roll Potatoes” is painted on a wall opposite London, Ontario’s Call the Office. (The New Town Animals did it.) Jay Solyom saw Keith Morris’ dink when they opened for the Circle Jerks. “I tried to look away but I just couldn’t!” says Jay. CC Voltage isn’t his real name. It’s actually Chad Voltage. It took part-time member Jay Millette three months and over a dozen shows to realize he’d joined the Spitfires. Real Spitfires were built from scrap metal and refuse by British housewives during World War II, as was former Spits drummer Ryan Ostiguy. George Bush is a retarded psychopath. Jay Solyom claims that his Pit Bull, Tootsie, is capable of swimming the English Channel. Marty Peters played Cousin Oliver in the final season of The Brady Bunch. The Spitfires blew off a show in Winnipeg and a show in Chicago so they could go on a rollercoaster instead. CC used to drive a steamroller. To school. Jay’s hobby is painting with his feet. PAGE 22 THE NERVE AUGUST 2005

The three of them crack up at this. he Spitfires are a fraud - always have Giggles Jay, “I was talked into it by a certain been and always will be. Smarter men member of the band… Marty Peters!” would be resting on their laurels after pulling the plug in 2003, but if that had been the “We did it in London, England and the crowd end of the just went Spitfires, fuckin’ “All the fuckin’ idiots of Vancouver come c r a z y , ” like they insisted, Marty furto our gigs. I hate every one of ‘em. then I ther tries They should all drop dead and not come wouldn’t be to reason. sitting in the “This to our gigs anymore. I’d rather play to Nerve office wasn’t a nobody than those losers” with singer fire extinJ a y guisher – Jay Solyom goes soft on the fans Solyom, like a regbassist CC ular one,” Voltage and drummer Marty Peters. And they cries Jay, his eyes popping out of his head. “It wouldn’t be trying to salvage their dignity right was like a fuckin’ chemical bomb or something. before my very eyes. What a disgrace. Solyom It tasted like chemical, burned your eyes, has folded himself up into a little kitten-sized ball burned your mouth…” of hyper-anxiety and suspicion, CC obviously Over thirty Torontonian rock’n’roll fans died thinks he can glide by on good looks and Marty that night. Tragic, yes, but on the other hand I dares to wear a moustache in my place of work. The tension is horrendous. There’s a certain feeling a man gets just before he wades into a brawl: a metallic adrenal buzz mingled with regret and the taste of salt. Nobody wants to get by Ferdy Belland bloodied but nature asks that we do, anyway. Now factor in my hangover, and theirs. Everybody is going to get hurt today, jack. Ahhh, the Nazis. Sixty years after the “Why are the Spitfires re-uniting?” I ask. “It’s Third Reich’s World Tour was blasted not like anyone needs it.” into rubble-strewn defeat by the com“For love of the game!” Cries Marty, from bined efforts of a lot of uber-pissed behind a big fucking moustache. When I snort something about ‘doing it for the money,’ he Allied munitions, Adolf Hitler (nee pleads, “I don’t think we were ever commercialShicklgruber) and his heartless henchly viable.” men still send uneasy shivers down “What kind of money are we gonna make?” everyone’s spines… and for good reaInquires Jay, testily. The Spitfires got as close as anybody in this son, bucko. Check this shit out: a world to making a little money, before blowing failed artist who liked balling his up with all the grace of a pipe bomb in Toronto. cousin (Hitler), linked up with a clubThis is the band that helped precipitate foot geek (Joseph Goebbels), an obese Vancouver’s rock’n’roll renaissance in the late ‘90s and of the big three, Flash Bastard, the addict (Hermann Goering), and a Halos and the Spits’, - they were the least likely myopic chicken farmer (Heinrich and consequently the most lovable. They were Himmler) to form a government. This also the last band standing when everyone else unlikely anti-Getalong Gang convinced crashed, and had both the wind and the biggest booking agent in the world at their backs before a country full of Germans (usually a they too fell foul of that ancient juju Grendel, or bunch of no-nonsense types who were what Jay Millette has called the ‘Trouble-Shit’ – vulnerably off-kilter due to the Great the hoary malignancy that travels the earth Depression and lingering post-WWI destroying your favourite bands. It’s been well documented – the Spitfires’ dance-of-death with malaise), that they were representative the fuckwits of Toronto, Canada – but I bring it of a false Master Race (funny shit, seeup anyway. ing how the Aryan tribes originated in “They demonized us, “ CC reckons. “We

As Nazi as They Wanna Be

didn’t play by the rules. We didn’t give a fuck about Toronto and kissing anybody’s ass,” “We got physically removed from Lee’s Palace the second time we went back,” Marty continues. “Toronto had it in for us, ‘cause there was nobody around there doing what we were doing. We came in there, packed the big fucking club in their town, right? Raised a little hell…” Marty smiles. He’s obviously thinking about the Horseshoe, since the hell raising at Lee’s Palace was courtesy of some dumb broad in the audience who spat beer at the soundman. The band took the bullet for that, unfairly. It was the last straw for the city that went on to give us Billy Talent, but the Horseshoe affair got the ball rolling. “It was a Chart magazine showcase,” says Marty, with a mien of unconvincing diplomacy, “and we headlined, and it was packed and, you know, the fire extinguisher went off…” The fire extinguisher didn’t go off, I remind them. Jay Solyom pointed the fire extinguisher at the crowd, deployed the fire extinguisher, drove everybody out with the fire extinguisher and allowed Trouble-Shit to waltz right through the front door. It was the beginning of the end.

what is now Pakistan and Kashmir). They also convinced said Germans to kick the shit out of most of Europe and leave 55 million dead, including the cold industrialized slaughter of 6 milpresumably lion ‘undesirables,’ because they weren’t failed artists, clubfooted geeks, obese addicts, or myopic chicken farmers. The extreme fringes of pop music/culture have often adopted the symbology of the Nazi era to much-effective shock value. The symbol of the swastika won’t be returning to its original status as an Asian peace/love sign any decade soon, methinks.

‘ n’Roll Potatoes* Cover

heard the band was really tight. This evidently means less than a hill of poop to Toronto, which got its priorities all arse-about-tit and ran our heroes out of town like common pygmies. Back in Abbotsford, the band called it a day. Two years later, it’s a refreshingly clueless outfit that meets with me, as you can see here when I ask about other instances of TroubleShit. Jay’s reply: “Our van broke down, once. That was horrible.” “What?” I gasp, “Puh-leeze. I’m asking about Trouble-Shit, not a fuckin’ muffler problem.” Jay’s eyes brighten, “Oh!” He says, “I had a guy going like this to me last night.” He draws his finger across his throat in the universal Cuban necktie motion. He’s referring to a hastily arranged warm-up gig at the Brickyard, which was a de-bac-le in terms of putting poor Hungus’ mind at ease. The man who is otherwise know to Marty as “a phobic enigma” is nursing his battered body today. According to Robert Anton Wilson or Carlos Castaneda or one of those psy-

By Adrian Mack

choactive cowboy hippie braniacs, all learning is remembering. Not so for Jay, who neither remembers nor learns. He seems surprised and put out that he dodged bottles, cans, beer showers and general battlefield madness during their short set. “All the fuckin’ idiots of Vancouver come to our gigs,” he moans. “Yeah,” I say, “you were telling me earlier you hate your fans.” “Hate every one of ‘em. They should all drop dead and not come to our gigs anymore. I’d rather play to nobody than those losers. First song – there’s bottles flying… Last night was

loogan heaven.” Marty picks it up, “We were moving the gear and it was just a sea of broken glass.” Jay’s smirk suggests that he’s jiving me a little, and he’s only half serious about the Spitfires’ bedrock fan base of total morons, I think. He’s a strange little man who, incidentally, has more nicknames than anyone I know: Hungus, Molson Solyom, Money Solyom, J.So, the Wad. He’s in the habit of blowing CC’s mind, I learn. His burgeoning career as a producer, working out of his basement studio, Hungus Sound, has won him as many accolades as his work as the drunk guy from the Spitfires. His buddy the Deaner, having

Be KEITH MOON: The Who’s ultra-destructive drumming madman predated punk’s agit-prop shock tactics by strutting his way around London’s Jewish neighborhoods bedecked in full Waffen SS Untersharfuhrer’s garb, cheerfully sieg-hieling the shocked populace... many of whom were Holocaust survivors. Ouch. Emotional - and sometimes violent - altercations between Moon and enraged rabbis made old Moony not the most praised yob inside the executive boardrooms of Decca Records. JIMMY PAGE: While touring with Zep during the early ‘70s, Page would play onstage wearing an SS officer’s cap... which could have been an unsettling visual counterpoint to Robert Plant’s leftover-flowerchild appearance if everyone hadn’t been so fucked up on STP and red wine all the fucking time. When Page finally cleaned up his act he left the SS shit at home in his tickle trunk. IGGY AND THE STOOGES: Modern hipsters praising the Stooges need to realize that back in their day, Jim Osterberg & crew were anathema. Sure, they were loud, crude, nihilistic, and scared all the hippies shitless, and sure, Iggy was busier vomiting and bleeding and convulsing than he was singing, but just as important to the Stooges’ vibe were Ron and Scott Asheton, huge Nazi regalia buffs who more often than not wore jackboots, black leather SS greatcoats (fuck you, Marilyn Manson) and Nazi medals of valour. As far as I know, the Ashetons remained unapologetic about their onstage garb for the duration of the Stooges’ brief yet fiery career. DAVID BOWIE: Was well-versed in the choreographed pageantry of the torch-lit Nazi rant rallies. Much of Bowie’s early work focused on quasi-scifi dystopic fascism. And the fact that he spent the last half of the 1970s living in Berlin had to have affected his psyche somewhat. Although his shock-theatre has ebbed since then, Bowie fearlessly explored the psychosexual undercurrents of Nazi weltgeist like no other.

Mainstream folks are still spooked by sullen punks sporting mohawks and tattered black leather/combat-boots/metal-stud ensembles. Even if the models of said fashion aren’t 100% focused on Overthrowing the Man, everyone still reacts uneasily to those wearing garb even remotely fascist. Which means the mainstreamers are clueless cowards… and Hitler himself said it was fortunate for those in power that people do not think. Every time a bespectacled yuppie stops dead in his tracks when his path crosses that of an anarcho-crusty, said yuppie’s shivering blood only proves the lack of lasting substance in today’s bloated, greedy, capitalist nightmare. In which case, the punks are utilizing Nazi Chic to keep the straights on their toes, if only in passing. Which may or may not be a good thing, depending on your politics. Scribe a swastika on a back alley somewhere and someone’s blood will still chill with fear. I suppose it’ll be when the grand-

children of the last WWII veterans and the last Holocaust survivors collect their pensions before the Nazi boogeyman fades away. Too bad we haven’t learned from history; many new Holocausts have appeared since 1945, and the punks still wear black leather. And 200+ neo-Nazi organizations flourish in the USA today, while the Communist Party remains illegal.

returned from a sojourn in “Split Lip fuckin’ Alberta” (according to Marty), has taken up residence on Jay’s porch once again, where I believe he grew up. Jay seems more complete with Dean-O around. “He’s back!” he squeals, fairly jiggling with delight. “He’s living on my porch again! Waving at the neighbours…” “But now he’s drunk as well,” adds CC. Dean-O used his time in Alberta well, apparently, and is now as vaporous as his band mates. Jay, CC, the Dean-O – a few other Spits – they were all kids together in Abbotsford. They first called the band Solsy and the Spitfires when they scored a gig at Tommy’s in Maple Ridge. Jay had an edge in Vanilla Springs, BC because of the old man, a Hungarian Vampire Hunter who relocated to the smallest and most invisible place he could find, after driving a stake into a perfectly innocent albino from neighbouring Romania. Jay’s dad would set up his drums in the front yard and play along with Bob Seger records. Jay not surprisingly developed into a badass, like Kenickie from Grease. CC becomes wistful at the memories. “In our Christian neighbourhood,” he starts, “it was all white, middle class families. And then the rock’n’roll Solyoms…” “My dad would get drunk and fire bottle rockets at the neighbour’s houses,” says Jay. “And the neighbours wouldn’t let you hang out with their kids, right?” CC recalls. “No,” says Jay softly. “Because I had Kiss records.” “And then you started painting pentagrams on the churches around town.” “I Molotov cocktailed the church,” Jay continues. “But I didn’t know how to throw it and I went like this, backwards…” It landed in a big bush, which burned in a fittingly biblical fashion. That the Spitfires are merely a bunch of overgrown kids should be obvious to anyone, but it’s their secret ambitions that impress me. Later in our conversation, I’ll ask why fans are so proprietary about the bands they love. CC will point out that normal humans are expected to improve at what they do, with the exception of musicians, who are better off staying the same, or getting stupider. “We matured,” he says. “I don’t know if the fans matured with the music. They just like to hear the old stuff.” Jay, meanwhile, will very sensibly break down the problem like this: “As soon as you start to play good music it’s like people are scared to like a band that gets up and sings harmonies and stuff. They’ll say ‘That’s not cool’ and then they’ll go home and listen to Cheap Trick, and they’ll say ‘Oh that’s great’.” The Spitfires are determined to make a new record that they actually like, this time around. If there is a common mental image of this band, it’s composed of one big fuck-off riff played too fast by a gang of chunky dipsomaniacs. In reality, they’re all sensitive aesthetes that happen (with the exception of CC) to look like dumb jocks. That’s why I insist they’re frauds. So, of all the irresistible forces driving the reunion: CC’s return from Germany, the addition of Marcel Lafleur on guitar, the release of the two-disc Illustrious Career (which gathers highlights from the previous albums with a live set recorded at the Pic by Howard Redekopp), the most compelling is the band’s determination to get back in the studio. After our conversation, my initial question has been answered to my satisfaction. That’s why the Spitfires are getting back together - life looks better than it did 30 mins ago and I’m preparing for a new album that blows everything, including the Nerve boat on August 12th, right out of the water. n


Pedo at Warped Tex Keeps Getting Older but the Girls Stay the Same O Music / Live Wires

i! Summer has finally struck (a little) which means one thing - well, it means a lot of things, but the only thing I’m really giving any importance to is young girls shedding layers of clothing in the sun, and what better venue to view such an event than the 2005 Van’s Warped Tour. Yeah. Now formerly, this all day ‘punk rock’ excuse for a sunburn has made me feel like a drained, dried up, perverted and out of touch old man (its all relative, man) but this year it had me filled with a warm feeling of nostalgia coupled with a happy, numb feeling in my head and in my pants. The latter may have been a result of the copious amounts of whiskey swigged out of the trunk of our car (ah, the boot…) and some inappropriate behaviour here and there on the campus...

11:25 am So let’s start from the beginning: this long, arduous day of pedophelic debauchery was set in motion with an entirely uncalled for jog in the hot sun, through throngs of tiny, sugar coated and brightly coloured kids marching down the highway and down the long, long hill to the front gates (a tremendous hike which would be trekked many times throughout the day to fetch more liquor units... damned all-ages events without beer gardens). This seemingly insane energy expenditure did, however, get our exhausted, out of breath and sweat drenched journal-ass stageside for at least half a set of the always fabulous, always gorgeous Nikki Hurst as she opened the festival up on the Ernie Ball stage as a sea of hundreds of spikey haired teenagers spilled into the festival grounds. It begins… Three O’clock-ish So I ranted and raved about how awesome this band Avenged Sevenfold was last year and I missed them this year cuz I was busy with a bottle. I hate myself. But, I did get to see No Use For A Name (again) and then the Offspring. Not really an equal pay-off, but, there was the nostalgia of it all. I hung out with a few other old geezers, as we stood a foot taller than a majority of the crowd and sang along the wrong words, off-key to shitty songs of our high school years, such as “Self Esteem”, “Come Out and Play” and “Bad Habit”. At least I think those were the songs we were singing along to. If not, that would explain why we were off-key. Why do the young girls in bikinis keep getting younger?

My Chemical Romance

everything. I attempted the old man skank.They were that good. High energy. Dave McWane jumps around like he’s filled with helium. The day went on. The bands came and went, started to blur together as the sun baked up flesh. Spent some much needed quality time with the girl and our crew backstage. Caught the Horrorpops

the hairiest, sweatiest, most poignant, most captivating rock ‘n’ roll spectacle to grace a stage in a long while. With a full-on revolutionary sermon that had the crowd on cult-like bended knee, Valient Himself (this is how our furry leader wishes to be referred to...) prepared us for the impending cockrock-metal onslaught known only as “Showdown” (aka hit single, future classic, etc.) Then, to a backdrop of MaidenTransplants esque dual guitar hammer-ons and other assorted wicked guitar wankery, Valient Himself scaled a twenty foot stack of monitors and struck dramatic rock gesticulations. (see photo) Fuckin’ rad. The kind of ‘rad’ that sticks a hand down your pants and squeezes your scrotum in rhythm with the band for a good portion of the set. That’s kinda like a metaphor, y’know. Except it actually happened. Aside from, erm, ‘breaking in’ the Thunderbird facilities with one aforementioned stage gracing heroine (no, not Valient), there was seemingly nothing else to see. But alas, in the distance, the supergroup Transplants lured the crowds towards the stage. Tall cans in the air. Lemme see ‘em - Fuck you! Travis Barker (Blink 182), some dude from Rancid and some angry guy with no hair play gangsta punk rap, or I dunno what the fuck you call it, but its dope, yo. So, a bit of a budget Warped this year, if you ask me, the headliners were one of those ‘nobody’ bands that this old geezer had never heard of. Some bunch of goofs named My Chemical Romance. In previous years, we’ve seen Pennywise, Rancid, NoFX, Bad Religion, etc. Now they’re ending things with a gang of fancy assed goths playing whiney, weinerboy punk. Maybe I was biased due to alchol withdrawl and sunstroke. Maybe it was the fact that I had just been informed that my really official looking paper wrist band with the word ‘photo’ scrawled in jiffy marker that had been getting me backstage all day was not valid and that I would have to leave. I wanted to go home anyways. n

By Cowboy TexAss Valient Thorr

Valient Thorr: fuckin’ rad. The kind of ‘rad’ that sticks a hand down your pants and squeezes your scrotum in rhythm with the band.... That’s kinda like a metaphor, y’know. Except it actually happened.

Five? I have no idea at this point… After a necessary journey back to the trunk, (MxPx made it easy to make the escape excuse), our hero returned, a wee bit hammered and just in time for Big D and the Kids Table. One of the only ska punk bands on the tour this year, (which is surprising, I guess ska isn’t cool anymore) these Boston boys broke out the horns and the Rudiments covers and

return to Van. What a damn good band. Stand up bass, sexy yet classy dancing girls with style, tattoos, some guy with big hair from Denmark. Danceable. I was fixated on the dancing girls.

Money. Lust. Greed. Power. Nothing, and I mean nothing, that I have ever seen at a Warped Tour could top the psych-o-delic arena rawk of my new favourite band: Valient Thorr! Nothing. For those with the stamina, endurance, virility and curiousity enough to last till 6:30 (hey, seven hours in the sun can take its toll on the weak of heart) may have had the life changing experience of witnessing, by far,

Letter From Stink Town You Wanna Play Warped? Battle On! Futures Past


ith the right management and the proper contacts, these days, landing a spot on the Warped tour is not as difficult or out of reach as some might think. But to actually compete for the spot – that’s a whole other ballgame. It doesn’t hurt to have someone on the inside, of course, so when Fusion Entertainment first approached me to co-promote and host a battle of the bands in Toronto, I was thrilled at the chance to give some of my favourites a leg-up. Putting the whole thing together was a massive headache, mind you. From pre-selling tickets, cajoling over 50 bands to compete, dealing with sponsors and deflecting skepticism about the event’s credibility... did I mention I only had 4 weeks from the day it was confirmed to pull this off? I shopped around for any and every band who might figure they had what it takes to step onto a Warped tour stage. I posted on various websites and message boards


and the results were overwhelming. Some bands reacted negatively to a little rider requiring that they pre-sell 25 tickets in order to qualify, figuring that it was a scam, and I sort of understood their suspicions, if not the delusional assumption that an industry monolith like Warped is going to have its will bent by a bunch of small time Hogtown scenesters. It also didn’t help that this battle of the bands was being compared to other, arguably less plum campaigns. Local promoter Paragon, for instance, has allegedly failed to pony up the prizes for its various events, while Supernova and Emergenza seem equally responsible for draining competitors of any hope or faith in the industry. In other words, these companies have given the battlefield a bad name. I was determined to change that. Day one was an energetic night on an otherwise mellow Sunday wherein locals King Minus – whose victory was NOT based on ticket sales - moved on to the next round. The following night, a band of very sore losers (name withheld out of kindness), who had bought ALL of their own tickets, went on to conduct a smear campaign which is summarized in an email I received: ‘… clearly that was rigged, i wouldent mind losing to a better band but not the worst band of the night, those guys were with the emergenza guy. And no i dont just figure its an emergenza thing i found out from another source when i got home exactly what that stupid shit was all about. i dont apriceate you making your money off me like that.”

By Rosina Tassone

Uh huh. I absorbed an important lesson: never give a fuck about (illiterate) whiners who can’t take responsibility for sucking, and are inclined to insult everybody else in the process. Oh well. The next few nights were filled with the great, the good and others who blew big gruesome shitflavoured chunks and needed to go back to the garage… Once the dust settled, Freshmeat, 68 Pornomags, and Rehab for Quitters had progressed towards the finals as well as impressing reps from Warcon, HOB, Side One Dummy, The Agency Group, & Long and McQuade. Sometimes there was a tie, as in the case of the fabulous Knockouts – a young ska band – and the acoustic guitar and drum four-piece Play Oliver, who’s singer had such a great voice that I remembered with an epiphanic flush what it sounds like when people actually sing in key. Fuck Billy Talent, Alexisonfire et al. I think the reason that I hate most emo/screamo/shmomo bands is because too many of them labour under the misconception that not being able to sing is, in itself, a talent. The end drew inexorably near, with Third Crisis, No Other Way, Ever Since Eve, Futures Past and Organized Chaos joining the other finalists at the Reverb stage in the Big Bop. 11 bands - all of them competing for one 30-minute time spot on the Kevin Says stage. This was a room full of Toronto’s best new acts with a shot at a great show... and as cheesy as it sounds, I wished I could have had my own side stage for all them. But the grand prize finally went to… Futures Past! The Knockouts and King Minus drew up the rear but were pipped at the post. Have fun in Barrie, guys! n

I sort of understood their suspicions, if not the delusional assumption that an industry monolith like Warped is going to have its will bent by a bunch of small time Hogtown scenesters.

Live Wires

In Medias Res / The Robosexuals / The Notes From Underground / The Cape May Mesa Luna, Vancouver, BC Sunday July 17th 2005

It’s only a matter of time before this eyesore of a club gets leaky and they gotta tear her down. Good on ‘em fer puttin’ on shows, but holy hell is this place ugly. Screaming eagles of 80’s architecture, colour and texture, brass railings, dark pink wall, and windows to high heaven. Speakin’ of heaven, there was nuttin’ in the flyer sayin’ this was a show for god. The Notes! Ahhh, what can I say, we all seen ’em and we all love ‘em. That shit Sean bangin’ them drums and singing his little heart out. And, when he has one too many, he becomes the most huggable guy in town. J… what’s wit da flip flops? If The Robosexuals were to keep their guest singers full time they would, hands down, be the hottest indie rock outfit this side of the border. When Katie Lapi and Natasha Thirsk stepped on stage my wore out ol’ heart skipped a beat. And if that wasn’t enough, they had fightin’ robots! As far as yer headliner goes, everyone was there to see them. They played as if they drank a full gallon of piss and vinegar each. Those kids had a great stage setup - TVs! But they still couldn’t find anything interesting to put on them. TV is the devil’s tool. - Trucker Bill

Willie Nelson and Family GM Place, Vancouver, BC Thursday, August 21st, 2005

The new Uncle Jesse was comin’ to town and he was receivin’ a helluva lot of flak. A 72 year old stoner who has written and performed some of the finest songs to ever grace my well oiled mind, and everyone I know was buggin’ out, and coppin’ out on my invite to check out the show. Which, besides a ticket, also included a bottle of Ol-Meca Extra Aged tequila, a few bumps off the bullet, and a large bag of massive spliffs! All in a hockey rink settin’! Plus, don’t forget the $10 beers, and if my date was good, some nachos! I still couldn’t find no takers. Since when will you bastards refuse a drink with me?! Is it the Jessica Simpson video? Willie is so sky high he doesn’t even know he’s in the damn thing! He thinks Jessica is Kitty Wells! Shit, people! It’s Willie! Pancho! The Red Headed Stranger! Barba-freakin-rosa! You dummies! I rolled on down to the show hoping to find some kindred sprits. And holy honeycunny-suckle-rose, the place was goin’ off! Full of juiced sluts, drunk bikers, stoned freaks, shutins, bingo players, suits (but no fruits) and more New Cuntry fuckheads than I could beat to death with the business end of my claw ham-

Sounds of the Underground Festival PNE Forum, Vancouver, BC Tuesday, July 26th, 2005 Who ever heard of an all-day music festival on a Tuesday!?! People work and commute, and for this I was raped and denied the High On Fire fix I’d been craving since 2001, when border trouble ruined a gig at the Pic. And don’t even get me started on the total lack of alcohol supplements… at least ticket sales were low, forcing a location switch from the Coliseum to the cozier PNE Forum, sparing us the horrors of designated seating. Compared to the corporate misery of Ozzfest, Sounds of the Underground was a beautiful, well-oiled titanium Eden, run with maddening efficiency. A boatload of bands were missed: Devildriver, Terror, All That Remains, Norma Jean… though in all honesty I ain’t weeping. Then came Strapping Young Lad (only Canadian act on the tour), blasting our asses right off the mark with “Imperial” from the new album. Greeted by a huge hometown reception, SYL’s superiority really knocked the wind from most bands before or after. Devildriver’s bassist Jon Miller filled in, since the usual man was, as Devin Townsend put it, “MAKING GAY PORN!” The thought of the burly Byron Stroud in heaty mano-mano action nearly sent me into a seizure… ah, good ol’ Devin: growling, unpredictable, with a skullet to make a mother vomit in disgust. GWAR… holy SHIT what a show!!! Jackie, my lovely assistant on photo detail, was issued a cheap plastic poncho to protect from blood spillage. Same with the security staff! Meanwhile, on stage: an ogre got violated orally and murdered, a robot got murdered, George Dubya got murdered (his neck shot rocket blood in torrents), some Nazi bishop got murdered, big cock n’

mer. And remember that guy Rick from Magnum P.I.? I saw, like, 1500 of those fuckin’ guys: Hawaiian shirt wearin’, super bad highlights, I-got-a-Porsche-and-alittle-pecker, middle age crazy, honkies! And 400lb. women still clutchin’ their dobbers in ink stained Daniel Hecter sweat suits in one section, octogenarians on the nod from too much applesauce and gin in another, and very drunk, down, and dirty urban cowgirls doin’ the pole dance on the barricade in front of Willie and the Family. Willie was lovin’ the whole debacle and he played like he was 65 again. “Whiskey River”, “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain”, “Me and Paul” (one of my favourites), a Townes Van Zandt cover, a dedication to Waylon, four Hank Williams songs… Shit, that old pothead played “The Harder They Come”! Godamn Willie, flyin’ solo seems to suit me just fine. Just come back real soon and I promise to share a big ‘Bob Marley’ with ya. - Carl Spackler

One-Eyed Jacks / The Smears / Third Lit (Warped Tour After Party) The Cellar, Vancouver, BC Tuesday, July 12th, 2005

balls swung around a whole bunch. The giant green goo guns on either side of the stage sprayed instant cheapo Dawn of the Dead make-up on everyone, and since GWAR played at 5:15 PM (!!!), this left us with a swarm of zombies for the remainder of the day. A glorious spectacle, truly. Check this sound byte: “You’re the best crowd of the tour!” (cheers) “You wanna know why? Cause tonight you’re all gonna die!” (huge cheers) “I SPREAD AIDS…” (dead silence) “…verbally” (a slight murmur). Wow… INAPPROPRIATE! Homegrown rape/murder starlet Karla Homolka got a mention too. How could you possible follow GWAR? You can’t really… I have no idea why they weren’t headlining. Opeth made their best effort, fine gentlemen that they are, though the guitar volume was irritatingly low. Martin Lopez’ second absence in just as many visits meant that Gene Hoglan filled in on kit yet again! Now I love the big Gener, but man, the real deal would be nice for once. I saw these Swedes in London a few years back, and it was AMAZING. For SOTU they played one unreleased newbie: interestingly, a more simplistic hard-groove departure. Can’t wait. Third time was the clincher for me and Clutch; never quite hooking me before, always stacked against Bertrand’s personal groove-rock favorites (Corrosion of Conformity, Spiritual Beggars). But here at SOTU, Clutch provided a much needed, down-to-earth stoner stomp amidst all this phlegm-lung and double-kick action. Bonus points for having an organ player! That new tune about the Ford truck (“The Incomparable Mr. Flannery”, I think) was the definite highlight: a lengthy, funky little jam session. Drummer Jean-Paul Gaster (a white Buddy Miles) finished the set with a respectable drum solo… we thought it was over… and then blasted out another with ten times the awesomeness! Amazing how this band so convincingly looks the part of

I politely declined numerous offers of fruitful Warped Tour passes this year for three reasons. Reason one: no beer garden. Reason two: I haven’t been 16 in a very long time. Reason three: no beer garden. Really, I could repeat that many, many times. I was, however, game for The Cellar after party. Although it was Tuesday, the Sunday MGD’s flowed relentlessly, and I managed to bank one of those insulated mini paper bag beer cozies that were circulating at the ‘Official Warped Tour Pre-party’ that took place at the Amsterdam Café the previous night. Those things are nifty, and quite patented. I’ve seen Third Lit before, but was a lot more intoxicated that time. They sounded tight: sparking the torch for the evening, proper. If these guys were to embark on an extensive tour, I might suggest hiring a throat masseuse or herbal tea expert for the very intense, throat terminating lead vocals. The Smears played second and stole the show, straight up. You can’t usually go wrong, these days, with a femme lead in a raw rock‘n’roll band - especially when that vocalist shows such good range. The handiwork of the players backed it up just right, and the crowd couldn’t resist. In contrast to a week spent in a pair of tight white underwear, The Smears might


overweight middle-aged office cubicle workers. One thing seemed to fall upon most acts at SOTU: the huge shadow of Phil Anselmo. I guess it’s my generation up on stage now, all reared on Pantera, emulating the moves and banter but with only half the presence and attitude. Like Unearth and Chimaira, though both did their hardcoretinged frenetic thing very well, especially the former, their maniacal guitarist copping the frantic loss of bodily control style of Dillinger Escape Plan’s Ben Wienmen. The crowd was none the wiser and totally loved it… so what the hell. The energy was there. Poison The Well seemed quite lost, the singer baffled by his empty left hand – somebody should’ve given that man a guitar, a tambourine, a wrench, something. Lamb of God… well, Von Bentley is convinced these guys are metal’s future: “thrashing through “Laid to Rest”, “As the Palaces Burn”, the pit exploded into a vortex of hell. They even brought out an old Burn the Priest song, “Bloodletting”! Having seen them in person before, plus their amazing DVD Killadelphia, I was hoping for some atypical song choices, mostly “The Faded Line” and “Remorse is for the Dead”. And they delivered. Easily my favorite band of the night.” Now I WAS suffering a monstrous beer-free headache at the time, but something was amiss for me… A year ago, singer Randy Blythe was a mouthpiece for empowering anti-Bush-isms. On Tuesday he railed against… men wearing white belts? What? A symptom of the second-term Dubya disillusionment blues, I suppose. And again, that Anselmo influence was everywhere in the crowd-stirring and stage-presence. The LOG set admittedly was very good (they led the biggest Canadian circle pit I’ve probably ever seen), but I guess I’m just not a part of this particular wagon. Why didn’t GWAR headline? - Dave Bertrand (w/ Mr. David Von Bentley)

smell bad after their set, but will leave you with an ear-gasm rather than chafed crotch-rot. Headliners One-Eyed Jacks are certainly showmen. They had the required bouncy white-man afro and accordion combo to get the punk-rock-circus job done and cater to the heightened alcohol level of the crowd. The boys can play, no doubt, but punk rock Irish drinking tunes? I’d have to say that shit’s ABD (Already Been Done), but nonetheless, they rocked a set with snowballing energy to a strictly over-16 audience. - Frank Daniello

Zombie Night in Canada: Big John Bates / Matadors / Deadcats / Raised by Wolves Brickyard, Vancouver, BC Friday, July 15, 2005

The Deadcats were playing as we arrived, and burning the place up they were. Don’t know if it was a superior sound system, or if they were just having a better night, but this was a vast improvement over the last time I saw ‘em. The Deadcats played with confidence and vigour, and even their dancing girl looked a bit hotter. No malnourished Calvin Klein models for these boys… The Matadors’ talking skeleton called us ‘Victoria’ twice, and promised the “best rock ‘n’ roll show you have ever seen.” Despite the geoMatadors graphical blunder, and their utter lack of modesty, the Matadors came out and ripped us all a new one. It was a very energetic and compelling performance, and indeed, I did not envy Big John Bates, who had to follow this riot act. The Matadors make me wish I had hair, so I could slick it back into a pompadour. After the Matadors all-too-brief set, Big John hit the stage and dished out some smokin’ slabs of rockabilly. I was impressed to see that he used vintage equipment like an old Gibson tube amp and old-fashioned microphones, which deliver an authentic sound. The female bass player wasn’t hard on the eyes, but she was there for her musical ability, providing, along with the bowler-wearin’ drummer, a more-than-capable rhythm section for Big John’s guitar barrage. Yes, I know “Tainted Love” has been covered to death, but this was the best version I’ve heard yet. - Chris Walter Devon Cody adds: I sent Mr. Walter an email prior to this show emphasizing he should arrive early for the opening act. Either the band start time was misjudged, or he miscalculated how long it would take to polish up his freshly tattooed noggin. If I was bigger, I would have taken Mr. Walter over my knee. Raised by Wolves, let it be known, were the ignition for a highly flammable evening of bands. PHOTO: JEN DODDS






erve: “When the Night…” almost has a Paul Simon/Johnny Nash, ‘70s crossover feel. That’s a compliment. Are you pleased to hear that or do you wanna punch me? Jay: No I don’t want to punch you... that’s a strange reaction to a compliment isn’t it? When I originally wrote the song I wanted to write a gospel country reggae style song, in the name of Toots or the Melodians, or the Maytones. By country, I mean that classic reggae harmony that came from the Jamaican countryside in the 70’s. I’m really flattered that you picked up on that. Nerve: You got to play with the Mescalaros – what’s the story? Jay: I got to play with Scott Shields, he’s the guitarist in the Mescaleros, and he cowrote a lot of their songs with Joe Strummer. When I went over to the UK, I was alone and doing an acoustic session on Mike Davies’ Lock-up Hour (punk show), on BBC Radio one... I needed someone to sing the back up vocals, and I asked Scott. He’s a really great guy, and a true artist. Nerve: You mentioned at the Vancouver Warped show that, “all good punks love reggae.” I find that many Vancouver punks are close-minded, musically illiterate blockheads. Any comment? Jay: It depends on opinion, I guess. I’m not involved in the ‘punk’ scene if that’s what it’s Adolescents O.C. Confidential Finger As you know, many old punk bands have reformed in the last few years - too many indeed to mention. Some of these bands have even released new albums, with varying results. For example, efforts by the Descendents and the Partisans have been lacklustre, but others, such as the Dickies, have been quite good. But hold the fucking press, because the new Adolescents album is the best yet. Each song is a carefully crafted gem, infused with pop, yet retaining that essential punk edge. That fabulous Agnew ™ guitar soars and howls and makes me wanna dig up Ronnie Reagan and give him a beating just for old times sakes. The bass guitar is wonderfully melodic and loaded with hooks, and Tony Cadena, in top form, rages against everything from genetically modified foods to the War on Drugs. O.C Confidential is easily the best thing the Adolescents have done since the Blue Album. Trust me, this is the shit. - Chris Walter Barcode Showdown Nuclear Blast Ever wander what Danish hardcore sounds like? Exactly like all the other hardcore. Showdown is good but non descript: the drums are alright but not enough bass kick action by Snick. Panter’s grunge-metal guitar is adequate. Butch’s voice sounds like you put about a hundred hardcore singers into a meat grinder and then when you listen to the sausage link that comes out, and you turn to your friend


called. Scenes are for people who don’t want to think anyways. By that, I mean, if you are a good punk, you respect others and know where it came from. ‘Cause without respect and knowledge for the people who paved the way you aren’t anything but a kid dressed up to look a part. To me, being punk is not paying attention to status quo or rules of music. Nerve: Tell us about Darryl Jenifer - is he nuts, for instance? Jay: Darryl Jenifer is not nuts at all. He’s one of the nicest dudes around, but he’d probably kick your ass for saying that. He… has an amazing musicianship, which has kept our fascination with Bad Brains to this day. American punk music owes the Brains a lot. Punk everywhere these days does. Nerve: I met Willi Williams (“Armagideon Time”) once, and he was the heaviest dude I’ve ever encountered – how was Vern Maytone? Was it intimidating to perform with him? Jay: Willi Williams – that’s really cool. Vernon has a voice that has aged incredibly. His tone is better now than it was on the original tracks back in the Rockers era. Yeah, I was nervous when we first got into the studio. I didn’t know if he would be offended, cos I reworked his track and changed the melody a bit - so that was a bit of suspense, but we vibe really well. He’s a really soulful person. - Adrian Mack

and inquire, “Man, who does this guy sound like? Is it Scott from Anthrax? Is it Kirk Hammet? Holy fuck, it’s Slayer! It has to be Slayer! No, shit. It’s none of those. Just start naming bands from the nineties and then I’ll get it.” I was listening to this album and I was like, holy shit, this is a long song. Who opens an album with a 15 minute song? Then I looked at the CD player and it was on track 9. This whole CD sounds like one big song and I don’t think it was meant to be a concept album. - Dale deRuiter

etc.). So what does Billy’s own band sound like? Well, picture a convention of the ugliest, noisiest, insane bands, sweating all over each other on the way to the wetbar, before unleashing the most horrible jam in history, and that’s pretty close to the sounds on this new Blessing the Hogs CD. If anything negative could be said about this hell-fury of noise and chaos, it’d be that Anderson and cohorts try to cover a bit too much ground here. Whether it’s noise rock, sludge metal, off-the-hook grind, or bludgeoning metalcore, everything they churn out is top-notch, but a bit more focus might be nice. Inexplicably, this includes two cover songs that feature guest vocals by ex-Coalesce growler Sean Ingram. A version of Melvins’ “Hogleg” makes sense, but the jury is still out on the Ingram-fronted take on “Fazer,” the classic New York chunk-rock song by Quicksand. If anything, it does at least add to the overall insanity of this brutal band. - Jason Schreurs Bedouin Soundclash Sounding a Mosaic Stomp Besides being the best thing at Warped this year, Bedouin has also supplied 2005 with its most evocative summer single. “When the Night Feels My Song” – which is certainly the number one record at my house – is a cod reggae spiritual that miraculously hits the same kind of pop-perfect notes that Paul Simon nailed back around the time of “Mother and Child Reunion”. Just to clarify – I mean that as a massive compliment. That’s not to say that Sounding the Mosaic operates in the same culturally vampiric way. What’s really stunning about this Toronto based three piece is that its technical mastery of roots-oriented music – and you’ll find as much of an African influence as a Caribbean one here – is matched if not exceeded by its feel. This isn’t an academic sounding record. All the players here - singer/guitarist Jay Malinowski, Eon Sinclair on bass and Pat Pengelly on drums are gigantically talented. Skeptics should note that Bad Brain’s Darryl Jenifer is the producer, while those with a love-on for this sort of thing will be amazed that Bedouin pulls off a cover of the Maytone’s “Money Worries” – with Vern Maytone himself providing some vocal relief. It’s the real thing. - Adrian Mack

Beatsteaks Smacksmash Epitaph This is the second full-length release in North America for this band. For anyone who cares, let it be known that last year Beatsteaks walked away with “Best German Band” at the MTV Europe awards. Smacksmash sees the band continuing in the direction it first started in, playing an eclectic brand of hard hitting, gravel-voiced, straight-forward punk rock that has no qualms about flirting with pop rock sensibilities. It’s a fine line to walk, but the Beatsteaks do it like the Great Farini. This album should leave both punk rock purists and pop rock snobs pleasantly confused. - Devon Cody

Bruce Dickinson Tyranny of Souls Sanctuary Chemical Wedding (1998) was a real career high for Bruce – Iron Maiden or otherwise – and now back with Eddie and co, with the whole planet his awaiting vagina, things just aren’t the same. In the ‘90s, Bruce’s struggling solo ventures were a desperate plea to maintain a viable career. They were ALL HE HAD LEFT. Mockery, and worse, obscurity, loomed. But he won! Dickinson clobbered the indignity of Blaze Bailey-fronted Maiden (critically at least…), mostly through the genius of guitarist/producer Roy Z, first-mate of the new Bruce boat. So now we stand with Tyranny…, which, though a good ride, just doesn’t have the vitality of its forbearers. Adrian Smith’s absence doesn’t help, and Mr. Z’s stock of hooks is wearing a little thin. Interest is heightened by the twisted medieval booklet art, the unexpectedly techno-fied keyboard flourishes, some wicked breakdowns (“River of No Return”, the title track), a slight return to cock-rockery in the Tattooed Millionaire vein (“Devil On a Hog”), and yet another song about flying (!). Next month I tackle the whole heroic Capt. Dickinson reissue set. It’s gonna be a doozy. - Dave Bertrand

Blessing the Hogs The Twelve Gauge Solution Goodfellow Heavy as all fuck, but no one would expect anything less from a band led by producer Billy Anderson (Neurosis, High on Fire, Eyehategod, Brutal Truth, Melvins,

Calvin Johnson Before The Dream Faded K Calvin Johnson is rarely without an outlet for his creativity, and occasional genius, which makes his second solo album a bit of an oddity. Was he hoarding these tracks

for his alone time? Did The Halo Benders, Dub Narcotic Sound System and Beat Happening all veto these mostly perfunctory songs and sketches? Or is this simply Calvin Johnson – naked and for all to see? Let’s just assume it’s the latter and understand that CJ wants you to get to know him without any bells and whistles. Unfortunately, the lack of said bells and whistles is where this album suffers the most. Johnson’s just-rolled-out-of-bed baritone may sound cool next to jangly indiepop or white-boy Funk, but on its own it’s just kinda, well, creepy and grating. Things do pick up when his guests stop by (which include every A-lister on K Records roster) and closing track “When You Are Mine “ is definitely worth sticking around for. - Adam Simpkins The Charming Snakes Ammunition Dirtnap With this infectious and raw record, The Charming Snakes have crossbred amiably catchy pop with audacious art rock and gestated it in a punk rock womb. Slinking around genre labels, the band has garnered strained comparisons to Washing Machine-era Sonic Youth, but the Snakes aren’t so eager to compromise the charm of their songs with too much experimentation. Ammunition keeps things fun enough not to alienate those who prefer their rock without the art. - Devon Cody Daphne Loves Derby On the Strength of all Convinced Outlook Music Ack. I have yet to understand the appeal of this sugar coated, whiney, cookie cutter indie “rock”. It’s so deceiving to associate that word with this band. There is nothing “rock” about this, fellas. This album seriously made my guts churn, and not in that badass Crackwhore or Anal Cunt kinda way. More so in a chugging-a-large-KFCgravy kinda way… wait, that’s pretty badass too. Nevermind. You get the point. Oddly, I am reminded of the time my dog swallowed a handful of codeine pills I had in my room. I called poison control to see what I should do and they recommended that I feed him burnt toast or a teaspoon of hydrogen peroxide in order to make him vomit the pills up. That having been said, I think Daphne Loves Derby could find themselves a lucrative little market with poison control centers worldwide. - Devon Cody Darkest Hour Undoing Ruin Victory One of the only bands who can mix metal with punk and hardcore without sounding like complete buffoons, Washington, DC’s Darkest Hour are back with their new album, Undoing Ruin. Victory is pumping this as the next Ride the Lightning or Reign in Blood, and dog bless their hearts for trying, but that’s really just overblown marketing. Save for a handful of brilliant moments, such as the blazing Kerry Kingstyle guitar solo right the fuck at the beginning of “This Will Outlive Us,” this is simply some finely honed, solid thrash metal with chops in all the perfect places. Recorded in Vancouver with none other than the scraggly one, Devin Townsend (and, for once, his production doesn’t recall a cat falling down the side of a tin shed), Undoing Ruin is thankfully not too trebly and just bass-heavy enough without sounding bottomed-out. Vocalist John Henry has always kinda bugged me, his high-pitched registers sounding a little forced, or phony, or something. During the thrash-punkier moments, his spazzy howl sounds fine, but when the band kicks into Swedish power-thrash or melodic forays he sounds a bit lost. Minor quibbles aside, not many metal albums are gonna sound better than this in 2005. - Jason Schreurs Dope Smoothie Go Strike Elitist Low Brow Seattle is currently overflowing like a stuffed shitter with stellar bands and Dope Smoothie is one of them. Go Strike is the follow up to their debut For Milking - and I loved it instantly. Okay, I’m a sucker for anything that sports such a strong, Pixieslike alt-rock sensibility, especially when it’s paired with a twisted humour not entirely unlike that of Victoria’s ingenious (and musically incestuous) Dave Lang. The

mostly punkish surf-rock is catchy as hell and evokes the best days of Sonic Youth (!) and The Smugglers. It’s fun, fresher than a new stick of deodorant, and barely a preview of live shows that could well prove more entertaining than The Royal Grand Prix on a summer bender. - Mya B Electric Frankenstein Burn Bright, Burn Fast TKO If ya ever thought Electric Frankenstein would record an album that didn’t sound like a bunch of assholes on amphetamines recording and mixing in someone’s garage with booze soaked equipment, their 13th full length would not be where you’d start. Yes, one of the most prominent rock ‘n’ roll garage punk bands is at it again, and this one is as quick and dirty as you’d expect. No solos. No slow songs. No bullshit. And they cover “Cars”. Three-Quarters Chubb. - t.ass Esmerine Aurora Madrona Esmerine’s first album, If Only a Sweet Surrender to the Nights to Come be True, was an exquisite and mysterious gift to music journalists who didn’t know what to make of Esmerine. With the 40-foot title, the mandatory nod to Esmerine’s connection to godspeed you! black emperor, and the mention of merely one track - “There Were no Footprints in the Dust Behind Them”, for instance - and boom! There’s most of yor word count. Over at Pitchfork Media, meanwhile, literally millions of words were wasted on assigning meaning to this cello and percussion based neoclassical project, and it’s sure to happen again with this new one. Here’s my interpretation: opening track “quelques mots pleins d’ombre”- and this is a shot in the dark, mind you - is French. The exquisite and mysterious handmade packaging will provide a lovely heirloom for my violent and maladjusted children. - Adrian Mack Funeral For A Friend Hours Atlantic I’ve always given props to the Welsh for sticking to their guns and creating music that sounds nothing like anyone else in the world (seriously, ask anyone I know). Super Furry Animals, Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci, The Manics. God bless them all. So imagine my dismay when I put on Funeral For A Friend’s latest album, Hours. What a mess. First of all, it’s standard commercial emo (shame on you) and second of all, it doesn’t even have cool Welsh song-titles like “Twll dîn pob Sais” or “Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn!” Come to think of it, there isn’t anything remotely Welsh about this album (except that it didn’t cost me a cent… zing!) What we do get is a band trying to sound like The Used or My Chemical Romance (why, why?) and nary a note of originality or credibility. Show some Cymry pride, you fuckers. - Adam Simpkins Go Ghetto Tiger Ambulance Ride Independent What, are you kidding? Faux naïf and lowbudget synth silliness? This is precisely the kind of thing the Nerve likes to shit from a very great height upon, and yet, inside the minimalist grooves and the loopy fantasy that we’ve arrived back at 1980, Ambulance Ride is actually pretty pleasant. Go Ghetto Tiger should go ghetto all the way with its fetishism and take a more French name, such as Le Petomane. Just a suggestion. - Adrian Mack Hiretsukan End States G7 Welcoming Committee The story goes that G7 had to work hard to convince New York’s Hiretsukan to record this follow-up to their still kick-ass 2002 EP, Invasive/ Exotic. Considering the Winnipeg label’s current roster shortcomings (not to mention their obvious shortcomings, if you know what I mean), keeping this band together was probably a stroke of genius on G7’s part. End States is a triumph, mostly because of the band’s ability to keep the spirit of true emotional hardcore alive. We 30-something hardcore kids need to be routinely reminded of the sense of revolution that used to emit from

our speakers when we’d put on the latest Ebullition, Gravity, or Vermiform LP, and Hiretsukan brings back that vital feeling. The two amazing aspects of this album are the searing, melody-filled guitar lines and the tense vocals of Michelle Proffit, who sends piercing shivers down the spine for the 30 minutes of this album, and never really lets up, save for the beginning of the last song. Proffit invites all tired, bloated male hardcore vocalists to gather in a room holding empty wine glasses, just so she can shatter them all. - Jason Schreurs Isis Oceanic – Remixes / Reinterpretations Hydra Head Man oh man. 17 year-old me would’ve laughed today’s me out to orbit – Bertrand, excited about a remix album of all bloody things! But for those less hostile, the pliable source material of Oceanic, Isis’ floating Floydian masterwork of 2002, is an obvious choice for electro-tinkering. The 13 tracks (two discs) of manipulated noise I’m reviewing here is a compendium of OOP 12”s that trailed the original LP, with work by a whole slew of knob-goblins, meaning quality and style run the gamut. Many reinterpretations have little semblance to their parents, and some (“Weight” – Fennesz, “Carry (First Version)” – Tim Hecker) are so ethereal as to hardly exist. Mike Patton’s vocalized variation of the instrumental “Maritime” (probably my favorite tune) is a wonky, wicked little rebirth, while Teledubgnosis’ sampling of the same track seems touched by the hand of Angelo Badalamenti. The finale, JK Broadwick’s “Hym”, is a 15-minute hypnotic monolith. Almost beats the original. A ‘collectors only’ kinda album, I think. - Dave Bertrand Motorama Supercustomspecial Rocket Powder After many years on the Vancouver bar circuit, Motorama has finally released a CD, and after trying out almost everyone in town as a vocalist, Marcus has apparently decided to do the sumbitch himself. I get a good garagey vibe from Supercustomspecial, and while Mr. Marcus is unlikely to win any Vocalist of the Year awards, he does alright, reminding me at times of Dan from the Insipids (he said, referencing a longdefunct Vancouver punk band who most people have never heard of). This is straightforward, beer drinkin’ rock music, with one foot firmly on the accelerator - no frills, and no bullshit. I’m glad to see that Motorama decided to step up to the plate. Now that wasn’t so tough, was it? - Chris Walter The New Lou Reeds Screwed Exit Stencil It takes six tracks of unfocused and largely ineffective invective before the New Lou Reeds, great name aside, finally deliver with “Brighton Beach” and its push-it-tothe-limit time signature. This is determinedly scruffy and artless art rock that doesn’t aim as high as any of the names it drops (“Peter Laughner” closes the album), or as low (“Interlude”, pointlessly, sends up Bill Cosby) but it drives and the guitar sound is better than a kick in the arse, I suppose. Taking pot shots at the weak and the pitiful however (“Teenage Metalhead”) is undignified. The New Lou Reeds should go after one of the cows they clearly hold so sacred – then we’d have something really interesting. - Adrian Mack Nine Pound Hammer Mulebite Deluxe Acetate The story goes that back in 1990, the members of Nine Pound Hammer hopped in a van, cruised down to Nashville and recorded this batch of previously unreleased material in a matter of hours and for very little money. No, really? I couldn’t tell from the atrocious quality (you can actually hear the tape twisting) and rudimentary playing. If you listen closely you can even hear the sound engineer say “Fuck it, that’ll do” (listen very closely). So, there’s that. But I also wonder what the demand is for this album. I mean, don’t all raise your hands at once, but how many Nine Pound Hammer completists are out there going, “Man, I would give my left-nut for some crappy NPH recordings made on

a dime”? If your answer is zero, you’re probably correct! - Adam Simpkins No Hands Free For All Independent I’m not going to knock this to hell because I support independent releases, and I appreciate the hard work that goes into such projects. That said, this is way too mellow and arty for me to get my head around. Maybe if I had a white belt and some heroin. - Chris Walter No Hands Roughing it in the Bush Roast At first I want to say that this CD sounds like the Fugazi you can dance to, but then I would have to defend my position and basically learn about Ian McKay for a year, just to deal with the rabid fans so I will in fact NOT tell you that this sounds like a mellow Red Medicine with less dissonance and more synth. Since I’m such a lead singer whore I always get excited when I hear a good new voice: in the case of No Hands, we have somebody who sounds like Gord Downie, but pinned down and with all the suck lipo’d out and filled back in again with Gibby Haines. Apparently the band lost their drummer last year but chose to make this album with machine drums instead. If you are leery of purchasing this disc you can hear free mp3s at - Dale De Ruiter Old Time Relijun 2012 K You’d be surprised by how much crap I have to listen to each month. Shocked, even, to see the pile of demos, promos and singles that accumulate in my trashbin from god-awful bands that make records for the sake of making records. But then there are days when albums like 2012 fall into my jaded and cynical mitts. This, kids, is an album. This is what makes my job worth its while. This is what makes me stand up and say, “Thank ye Lucifer for Rock n’ Roll!” and renege every ill word spoken about the current state of punk rock. Multi-instrumentalist Arrington Di Dionyso has crafted yet another fulllength sermon exonerating his demons through crazed voodoo-rhythms, intense throat singing and deep South trance-andconvert antics. Sound challenging? Oh yes. But a little patience never killed anyone (except those waiting for terrorists to go away.) - Adam Simpkins Various Artists Take Penacilin Now G7 Welcoming Committee Usually the compilation CDs that show up around here get promptly tossed in the “never gonna listen to” pile. I mean, really, who the fuck has time to sift through 15-20 bands looking for gold nuggets amongst the ones made of poop? Not me. Luckily, with a label like Winnipeg’s G7 Welcoming Committee (fine purveyors of political music), the poop is few and far between. Included here are new and unreleased songs by Propagandhi, Submission Hold, Greg MacPherson, The Weakerthans, Mico, and more. We also get unreleased and hard-to-find stuff by Malefaction, warsawpack, and Clann Zú, and already released stuff by a whole shitload of other bands on G7’s amazing roster. But here’s the rub: Some of the unreleased stuff is just different versions of previously released songs (luckily the Propagandhi song is legitimately something I’ve never heard before), the rare stuff is cool, sure, and the already released songs are just here to pad things out. For people who are new to this label, this is probably the best collection of bands you’ll ever find, but for those who already own most of the G7 catalog, it’s not too useful at all. Packaging is plain and lacking in substance which is not typical of G7, but perhaps done to guide people to the label website where they will find a wealth of important info. Hopefully, if anything, this compilation exposes some new people to this excellent record label, but as a longtime follower it’s hard to not feel letdown… Yeesh, compilations; wasn’t there some legislation passed to do away with them? There should have been. - Jason Schreurs

Off The Record Dredg Catch Without Arms Interscope Despite having a name that sounds like a fungus that grows on your choda, Dredg defies the odds and makes beautiful music. This band has gotten a lot of hype after two concept albums that are among the best, this side of The Wall. So what did they do the third time around? They filled an album with songs that are completely unrelated to each other. What a concept! Gavin Hayes’ vocals are now drained of all hope. Mark Engles’ guitar work is more subdued this time, but with some warm and dramatic effects reminiscent of U2’s The Edge. Drew Roulette’s complex bass fills contribute to the wonder, in that they are refreshingly undouche-like while Dino Campanella’s trap work should break the backstage blowjob drought for generally luckless occupants of the drum stool. From the jazz lounge feel of “Zebraskin” to the atmospheric rock of “Bug Eyes”, you may find yourself challenged by this album. If you’re up for it, I recommend swift elective upper body double amputation so that you can catch this without arms, because it really is that good. - David Von Bentley Rufio The Comfort of Home Nitro Fresh from another Van’s Warped Tour this summer, the So-Cal quartet masters riff-heavy pop punk laden with intense, personal lyricism. Both “Questions and Answers” and “Don’t Walk Run” deal with the untimely, accidental death of bassist Jon Berry’s brother, Joe. Though still in their twenties, with three records released in the past five years, Rufio has a maturity that radio friendly pseudopunks like Simple Plan lack and enough musical originality to deserve our attention. - Mya B



erve: How do you feel about Catch Without Arms? Are you happy with how it turned out? Dino: Yeah, I’m really happy with the way it turned out. We worked harder on this record than we ever have before. Of course, there’s always going to be things you wish you could change. When you start touring the songs, you start to see them even clearer and sometimes you come up with new ways of playing the song that actually compliments it even better and of course you wish you would have caught those things earlier. Nerve: Catch… was produced at Studio Litho in Seattle, but you made your last record (El Cielo) at Skywalker Ranch Studios. Why didn’t you go back there? Is it because Episodes I and II sucked? Dino: It’s not really a studio where a lot of producers choose to go. It seems like an advantage to record somewhere where (producer Terry Date) knows the way stuff sounds, yeah know? Plus, we love Seattle and were into the idea of spending some time up there. It was great. Nerve: What did Terry Date (Soundgarden, Pantera) and engineer Scott Olsen (Alice in Chains) add to your sound? Dino: Terry’s fucking amazing. He’s so kicked-back it’s ridiculous. He never stresses. I mean, he can get frustrated, but he never freaks out. Making a record is very stressful… but he keeps it very, very cool, which is important. If one guy loses it, every-

Slow Nerve Action Lovenasium Independent Damn. This record made me want to get my hump on in a bad way. Had there been a female in sight, or any small animal for that matter, things could have gotten down right indecent. An uncontrollable groove worked its way into my pelvis and would not relent until the very last note. As I wound my body around the room, admiring my moves in every mirror I passed, I began considering a career as a stripper. This very album could be my soundtrack. I wanted to touch myself. The neighbours could probably see me, but I didn’t care. Hell… they could come on over and join in. An orgy is in order when you’ve got funky sexy sounds like this throbbing from the stereo. Alas, when the record was over, I was spent. As I drifted off into vaginal dreams, I was left wondering if it would be as good for you as it was for me. - Devon Cody Sunset Rubdown Snake’s Got a Leg Global Symphonic Ugh. “I’ll believe in anything you’ll believe in anything,” he sings. Not true. This is for lost souls who dig Destroyer records but it’s horseshit, really. Fucking terrible. - Adrian Mack

The Fugue Mysterious Animals E.P. RiYL This is credible enough noize in the Jesus Lizard vein or, less charitably, a million other bands out there right now. The Fugue is at some pains to inform you that Mysterious Animals was recorded “at Oneida’s space,” bringing to mind this film school twat I once knew who was always going on about how he knew David Faustino. On balance, Oneida is cooler than Bud Bundy, but the effect is still the same. So what? They are presumably also quite proud of the seriously fucking horrible Seripop designed cover, suggesting finally that the Fugue are enviably magnifi-

one does. Scotty is a very talented individual as well. He’s funny as hell and great to work with. He taught me a lot about what I was doing right and wrong. I needed to be educated about a lot of things and he did so. I was really put in my place on this record, which was great for me. These guys have worked with some of the best drummers ever. They’ve seen it all. Impressing them was not easy. Nerve: Chris Degarmo (Queensrÿche guitarist) co-wrote a couple of songs and did arrangements. How did you hook up with him? Dino: He’s a friend of Terry’s. He’s an amazing person with an impressive ear for music. He acted like a mediator on this record. A band can really lose it in pre-production. I think it’s the most stressful time. You’re working the longest hours and it’s the most creative and intense part of the process. Chris was able to keep things cool at all times. Nerve: You guys have played together since high school. Aren’t you sick of each other yet? Dino: Not at all.Totally still in love. Nerve: What records are you really digging right now? Dino: M.I.A. and her album is called Arular. That’s it. Nerve: How could your average member of the public become more like the members of Dredg? Dino: Please don’t. - David Von Bentley

cent creatures burning with promethean creative energy who would totally get on your tits if you ever made the mistake of inviting them to your party. - Adrian Mack The Last Deal E.P Roast Sounds a little like a few things I really loved about the first U2 record, Boy, and a few things I didn’t entirely hate about the first Incubus record, Fungus Amungus. This is Edmontonion band the Last Deal’s debut five song EP of driven rock’n’roll, which I would also like if it weren’t for the deadpanned, unstructured vocals and mumbled lyrics - which bored me to tears. The band has potential, and realistically this IS a homemade recording, so all things considered it’s really not that bad. Just moderately uninspired. - Mya B Tiny Hawks Fingers Become Bridges Corleone They sound like a couple of Ritalin kids in a duel to the death armed with pots and pans, they play their instruments like schizophrenic hummingbirds in an epileptic fit, and yet they look like your average peace-and-love hippies. It’s all so confusing. Tiny Hawks play tight, spastic hardcore that brings to mind I Spy and preShape of Punk to Come Refused. Despite its erratic nature, there’s enough hooks and melody to make Fingers… a very listenable album - indeed, one I’ve grown to

like a little more each time I play it. Not bad for a couple hippies. Perhaps this band is using camouflage to sneak innovative angst into the music world. Will the hardcore kids trade their boots for Birkenstocks, shaved heads for dreads, and tattoos for tofu??? Only time will tell… - Devon Cody Transplants Haunted Cities La Salle I suppose it’s silly to question the authenticity of The Transplants. We all know that Travis Barker and Tim Armstrong are millionaires living in swanky Californian mansions, so it’s pointless to take anything on this album seriously. Tales of guns, thugs, heists, drive-bys – come on dudes, this is not the world you live in. The problem is, they pull it off so convincingly. Haunted Cities is a great album and I almost hate to admit it. Jumping around between street-punk, dub, soul and hip-hop, Transplants know their music and how to evoke a seedy Californian atmosphere: dirty and dark with no mention of Disneyland or the beach. And while listening to Haunted Cities is like taking a ride on Pirates of the Caribbean, with its caricatured nuances and playful violence, you still can’t help thinking these boys might have some street-cred left in them. - Adam Simpkins Various Artists Vancouver 4 Way Vol. 1 7” E.P. La-Ti-Da Wot a treat. Four of Van’s best acts on


Worst Cd

Off The Record vinyl, on Dale Davies’ brand new label. Among the revelations: the Nerve’s obituary for Ladies Night a few issues back thankfully turned out to be a little premature, as the reverb bonkers track “Natural Disaster” confirms the band to be, as they say, in rude health. Vancougar follow up with “Mine First”, a song that hopefully points to the quality of their forthcoming album. On the flipside, the Beladeans kick in “Seawall”, a brief but welcome assshaker/palette cleanser before Raised by Wolves round off the fucker with the surprisingly psych-oriented “Trouble”. All in all, 4-Way is the door-way to your Vancouver summer 05, a state-of-things type artyfact, risk free and mediated through the miracle of poly-vinyl right in your living room. It will be snapped up by anybody with a brain that works properly, as of August 6th, at Scratch, Red Cat or Zulu (in Vancouver), Ditch in Victoria, Zaxxon online mail order (Quebec), Kenrock online mail order (Sweden), or from Very cool.


- Adrian Mack Wolf Parade Self titled EP Sub Pop The first thing I am going to tell you about Wolf Parade’s 4 song EP is that it sounds like all those other bands right now. Like Arcade Fire and TV on the Radio and such. The second thing I am going to tell you is this is a good thing. I know people are telling you to hate this type of music because they think it’s aimed at pretentious fuckers who read poetry but I say fuck ‘em! I like this shit and I never listened to the Cure or new wave, so it’s all good to my ears. The only problem with this disc is it’s only 13 and-a-half minutes long - I advise holding out for forthcoming album Apologies to the Queen Mary, which includes two of the tracks here. - Dale DeRuiter

Misfits Meet The Nutley Brass Fiend Club Lounge Misfits Records Remember when that horrible Grunge Lite muzak CD came out in the mid-‘90s? Not only did it sound the death knell for an entire genre of music (which, quite frankly, kinda needed to croak anyway), it also was one of the most embarrassing, abominable releases, like, ever. Until now. What we have here is lounge music interpretations of Misfits classics. Yep, we’re talking “Last Caress,” “Astro Zombies,” “Teenagers from Mars,” “Angelfuck,” “Skulls,” and six more Misfits songs massacred into geriatric oblivion by New Jersey’s Nutley Brass band. As if the

actual Misfits members aren’t old enough, they just added 20 years to their reputations by allowing their songs to be turned into senior home shuffles. Who knows what original Misfit Jerry Only was thinking here; his Misfits Records imprint is behind this travesty. Another original Misfits member, Franche Coma (guitars), was obviously coerced into saying this “takes punk to a new level” and includes “one of the best renditions… of Misfits songs ever recorded.” To which I say, “Dude, fuck, comb your bangs back in front of your eyes, throw down that walker, and pick up your guitar. Moron!” This is about as bad as it gets. Danzig must be rolling over in his grave. - Jason Schreurs



Short Ends smaller and not as funny as cheap shotz Scientology to Nerve “Stop calling Cruise gay” Dear Film Editor of Nerve Magazine: I represent Religious Technology Center (“RTC”), the owner of the confidential Advanced Technology of the religion of Scientology, and the holder of the exclusive rights under the copyrights applicable to the Advanced Technology materials. Among these copyrighted and confidential materials are the Advanced Technology materials of a level known as the “Tom Cruise is a big fucking queer” allegation. I have been informed that you have published numerous “Tom Cruise loves the cock and can’t live without it” jokes without the authorization of my client, who, of course, would not have given such authorization had it been requested. Your action violates my client’s legal rights in that it is the unauthorized making of a printed copy of the copyrighted material and the unauthorized disclosure of trade secrets materials. These actions constitute violations of applicable copyright laws, libel and trade secret misappropriation entitling our client to damages and an injunction. This is true regardless of

whether you ever signed an agreement with respect to the confidentiality of Tom Cruise’s homosexuality. You are on notice that they are regarded as trade secrets, and case law from several jurisdictions holds that an individual who is on notice is liable for trade secret misappropriation. The only way these materials could ever have left the church is through outright theft or misappropriation. It is essential that you take immediate and effective action to remove the unauthorized copies from your Web pages, burn any undistributed issues of Nerve volume 6, number 7, issue 51 and that you refrain from any repetition of this or similar acts in the future. You are also to delete these and any other material that perpetuates the belief that “Tom Cruise has on occasion tongued another man’s asshole and

his relationship with Katie Holmes is a sham” from your hard drive and and to destroy any hard copies you have made. I will expect an immediate response from you with a statement of your willingness to comply with these demands. If you do not comply immediately, we will have no other recourse but to initiate legal action to compel compliance. Sincerely, Scientology legal team

In other news, principal photography for Mission Impossible 3 has begun. While details of the plot are a closely guarded secret I’d Everyone else has printed this picture of DJ wager that the impossible mission Frankie Wilde so we might as well too will revolve around Tom Cruise convincing the world he’s never Pete Tong and Don McKellar’s Childstar before sniffed amyl nitrate to relax his sphincter prior to they get a disappointingly under promoted DVD a man inserting a penis in it. release. Also, we recently received this email Dear Nerve Film Editor It’s been a while since we’ve talked. I know a lot of friends complain about being used, but, if this makes sense, I feel like you just haven’t been using me enough. Please get in touch me and know that I’m missing you. Sincerely, Subtlety

Every time you send him hatemail, Carl Spackler sheds a single tear

From August 13-24 The Pacific Cinematheque will be screening what critics decided were the top ten Canadian films of the past year. It’s your last chance to see Michael Dowse’s It’s All Gone

The new Jim Jarmusch movie Broken Flowers opens on August 12. It won some awards at Cannes and stars Bill Murray so it’s a pretty safe bet it’ll be good. Also opening on August 12 is The Aristocrats. It stars Penn and Teller and it’s about various comedians telling a very dirty joke that only funny people know. Video Pic this month is Over Night. Watch Troy Duffy, the guy who made Boondock Saints, fuck up his life and career.



Okay, for this shot I want the steadicam to pan from the pool of blood to a closeup of my wife’s ass

ROB ZOMBIE By Dave Bertrand


was stoned silly in Edinburgh when I saw Rob Zombie’s first film House of 1000 Corpses. It gonked me right up. Random blasts of negative images, Technicoloured, freakish, a sickening sleaze-O-rama, everything WAY overthe-top. Just total depravity. I saw Kill Bill Vol. 1 the very next day. Loved it to, and for a moment there (a brief one) these two unashamedly back-peddling (though intriguingly and lovingly revamped) escapades in exploitation had reinstated a long-lost hope in me for the future of modern American cinema. Repeat viewings have not been quite as kind, but still… Now the sequel is out, The Devil’s Rejects, a vile and unfriendly hunk of highway murder, deeply gutted in its setting of 1978 (“Here are my influences... everything that took place in the 70’s,” says Zombie). Not all the atmosphere is authentic – Rob did after all make his directorial bones crafting whiz-bang music vids for the MTV crowd – but the vibe is there, down to the grainy super-16mm film stock. The plot is pretty sparse: serial killer family from Corpses goes on the run from the law. Bad things happen. Stylistically, Rob plays it straight; less humour this time, and an end to the cartoonish lunacy of the prequel. House of 1000 Corpses was a big audience divider. And Rejects will be too. But I highly recommend that every grindhouse cult and horror geek worth his nuts go out and judge for himself. Oddly, there isn’t a single Zombie song on the soundtrack (which is probably good – it’s been a pretty steady dive in quality since his mid-90s White Zombie apex), instead he compiled an amazing assortment of southern rockin’, country twangin’ time-period goodies. Yeeeaarrrggghh! Nerve: I guess right now you’re caught in the Ozzfest circus, as well The Devil’s Rejects promotion? Zombie: Yeah. Ozzfest’s first show is tomorrow PAGE 30 THE NERVE AUGUST 2005

when there’s no more room in hell, the dead will direct a movie

night. Nerve: How can you handle that kind of time management? Zombie: I’m not sure that I can yet. I’m giving it a go. (laughs) Nerve: I just saw Rejects yesterday morning. 10:00AM. Zombie: Oh yeah? Well that’s a good morning film. Nerve: I was stoked to see Ken Foree (the black guy in Dawn of the Dead, 1978) play the pimp, Charlie Altamont. But did you intend for him be so… Lando Calrissian? Zombie: It’s kind of funny ‘cause it wasn’t until the movie was finished that it struck me that way. Yeah, he definitely is the Lando. (laughs). Without a doubt. Nerve: It wasn’t intentional? I mean, a shady rogue… old buddies … private secluded selfowned empire… heroes come to hide-out… a jokingly tense reception… an evil leader forces him to betray his friends… Zombie: No, no, it’s just one of those weird things. Nerve: And then later, he shows up out of nowhere, with a vehicle to conveniently save his (white) friends in need, only to get savagely axed to death just like Dick Halloran in The Shining! Zombie: Yeah. Totally. The great axe swing. Nerve: What happened to Karen Black (Mother Firefly in House of 1000 Corpses)? Not interested in the script? Zombie: It was, uh… sometimes you can’t come to a deal. Usually always over money. Nerve: Shitty. Leslie Easterbrook was an excellent replacement though. Zombie: I thought she was amazing. Nerve: Country duo Banjo & Sullivan, the film’s most victimized innocents; there’s an album of original material now in stores with the B&S name on it, written and recorded by some dude named Jesse Dayton? Zombie: Right. He actually co-wrote it with Lew Temple, who is the actor in the movie.

Nerve: The Allman Brothers-looking guy, I suppose? Zombie: He played Adam Banjo, yeah. The younger guy. Nerve: Was this fake band always part of the Rejects concept? Zombie: No, it wasn’t planned. It started popping up while I was shooting. They were just together and I said, “Let me take some fake publicity shots of you guys.” And as I was doing that I was like, you know, I’ve really got to make an album to release in conjunction with this movie just to, you know, expound upon the legend! Nerve: But you didn’t have any involvement in the music? Zombie: No… I told them conceptually what I wanted it to sound like, what type of country music I wanted: very 70’s-style - Buck Owens, Roy Clark - with a sense of humour, but a little bit more adult. And Jesse… he just gets it. He’s a country guy so he totally knew what I was talking about, and him and Lew went off and wrote the songs. It’s such a good record. Jesse brought in so many really seasoned country players, so it’s totally authentic. It doesn’t sound like a joke at all. Nerve: The Devil’s Rejects website is insane. Totally thorough. Zombie: Yeah, it keeps growing. It’s out of control. Nerve: I was trying to get into the Charlie’s Frontier Funtown page, but got hit with identity security. My Canadian-ness screwed me over since I didn’t have a zip code. Zombie: Yeah, it’s been confusing. It was kind of one of those weird things because now the MPAA rates the websites… Nerve: Oh my god. Zombie: …so you can’t have unrated content. We thought that maybe the one way we could get around it was by doing that, which we did. But for some people it’s a pain in the ass. Most of the kids are getting around it anyway. Of course. Nerve: Story-wise, I expected to follow Otis, Baby, and Captain Spaulding on the run from

the law, but you really took off on tangents. Tons of characters came into the mix. Zombie: Well, the first movie was very contained. We go to a house and we stay there, more or less. And that’s why when we get them out in the open, I really wanted it to feel more like the world at large. That’s why I wanted to add in so many characters and places and just make it feel bigger. Get a feel for the whole landscape. Nerve: Why did you elaborate on the Marx Bros. connection (the family members being all named after Groucho characters)? It was great random fanboy trivia. Zombie: Yeah. Well, you know I figured, cause everyone’s like why, why, WHY? I just wanted to incorporate it in so it didn’t just seem random. Make some sense to it. But you know… I don’t ever really actually explain why. Nerve: There are big changes to the returning characters. Baby’s character doesn’t have her trademark irritating laugh, for example. Zombie: Yeah, I mean she didn’t even do it once in this movie. Basically what I did was, anything that I thought was what the characters had become popular for, or would’ve become their clichéd moment, I didn’t want to return to. I thought to revisit any of those moments would just make it ridiculous. And the Baby thing was, “Oh, the laugh, the laugh, the laugh” so I definitely didn’t want to do it. Captain Spaulding had his way of being in the first movie that we broke away from. Same with Otis. Especially visually. Nerve: He looks like Zakk Wylde, with maybe a shade of Jesus. There’s about a million cultish guest appearances in this movie: Danny Trejo, Michael Barrymore, Tom Towles, Ginger Lynn, E.G. Daily, P.J. Soles, let alone Bill Moseley and Sid Haig (movie hounds, check out the IMDB. You will SHIT). Zombie: Almost every single actor is some person like that. Nerve: Yeah, like Diamond Dallas Page! How’d you find DDP? Zombie: He’s just a friend of mine. Ya know, he


“sometimes things are just so insane that people laugh just because they don’t know how else to react.”

looks like a bounty hunter – I thought he’d be perfect. Nerve: I noticed that Kane Hodder (Jason Vorhees in Friday the Thirteenth 7-10) is involved. Zombie: Yeah, he’s the stunt coordinator. That’s what he does mostly. I had met him before, and when it came time to hire a stunt coordinator, his name came up so I was like sure, why not. Nerve: There’s a Washington State band named Kane Hodder. Zombie: Yeah I know. I saw that. It’s very strange. Nerve: You spent a lot of time with Sheriff Wydell, making him a kind of antagonist/ protagonist vs. the three lead protagonists/ antagonists. Zombie: That was kind of the tricky balance, because I knew the three main people were what interested everybody; they were the returning characters from the first movie. But at the same time if the sheriff didn’t have some sort of grounding and importance, it would’ve just been a waste. Nerve: The ‘house’ is entirely different from the one used in Corpses. Zombie: Yeah, well the last house on the Universal backlot (note: Universal Studios produced 1000 Corpses, then dropped it for being morally irreputable. The house used for filming was the actual Best Little Whorehouse in Texas!) - it’s not like you can’t rent it. But it just doesn’t have any land around it. It’s too confined, so I knew that I couldn’t stage the raid scene with that house.

Nerve: Was the naming of one Corpses character ‘Jerry Goldsmith’ part of an inner urge to see Jerry Goldsmith, the composer, die? Zombie: No… at the time I didn’t even really think about it. It’s such a common name. Sometimes things just happen by accident. Nerve: There are three very effective dialoguefree music-driven sequences in Rejects – the amazing action/freeze-frame opening credits over the Allman Bros.’ “Midnight Rambler” Zombie: Yeah, it’s such a great song and it just works so good. I love making credit sequences that continue on the story. Nerve: …the ending with Skynyrd’s “Free Bird;” and then there’s that drug n’ booze sequence at Charlie’s with the Terry Reid tune. A couple of really beautiful moments to be found there: Baby hanging out with one of the gals, having a beer. Otis, with his ladyfor-hire, dropping his head in despair when DDP shows up. Zombie: Yeah, that was a sequence we worked on for a long time cause it just needed that transition, you know, of good times, BAD TIMES. At the end of that sequence it’s all bad. But I wanted to play it out in a different way. You know, they’re so exhausted, and they think they’ve gotten someplace good and then… Nerve: A couple of very raw images: the beginning, with Tiny (Matthew McGrory) dragging a dead, naked female body, and later, when Wendy Banjo (Kate Norby) is pulled from the shower. There’s something about a stark flash of full female nudity in a

violent and non-sexual context that is really effective. Zombie: It’s very shocking. Obviously as you just said, the scene wasn’t meant to be sexy in any way. I just thought, what is the most vulnerable position someone can be in. And that would be it, the shower. Nerve: That scene, and later when Priscilla Barnes’ character gets the rough treatment from Otis; they’re very Last House on the Left (Wes Craven’s first and best film, 1972). Zombie: Yeah, it’s very humourless. I wanted it to be hard to watch. Especially when Otis kills the two guys out in the desert; I didn’t want it to be exciting. I wanted it to be… brutal. Real violence. Nerve: The beginning was more ‘action’ violence. Zombie: Yeah, that’s not brutal. But I wanted that to look more like the police raid on Waco. Newsreel footage, almost. (note: It’s really more like Rambo.) Nerve: Rejects has one of the biggest blood smears I’ve ever seen, with the semi-truck, and the face-mask… Zombie: Oh, on the road. Yeah, that was pretty big. It always gets a big reaction. Nerve: I couldn’t help but laugh. It was an incredible blood trail. Zombie: Well sometimes things are just so insane that people laugh just because they don’t know how else to react. Nerve: Obviously there was some CGI in there, and I know Priscilla Barnes’ knifewound looked a little CGI’d… Zombie: Some moments of it are. Not all of them, but certain moments. Nerve: …but I’m glad you kept the digital business to a bare minimum. Zombie: Well, the shooting schedule was very, very tight. And when you do all the effects practically, on set, if something goes wrong, sometimes the reset time can be hours. And I just didn’t have the time. So whenever we got to a moment like that, we would do a CGI thing because I couldn’t risk it being a disaster. Nerve: There’s one particularly incredible practical bullet-wound effect when Wydell shoots Baby in the leg. Must be hard to do when it’s just bare skin. Zombie: It definitely is. That was why the ending was hard (note: it’s REALLY bloody), because Otis is shirtless and Baby’s got a lot of skin showing. It made it tricky. Nerve: What’s your take on the rash of bigstudio horror remakes? Zombie: I hate it. I mean I’ve already seen all the originals, why do I want to see remakes? I want to see new stuff. I can’t imagine anyone who’s

happy about it. Maybe it’s good for younger kids, they’ll see the remakes and it’ll make them go back and discover the originals. I don’t know. But for me it’s boring. Nerve: I’m worried that down the road there’s going to be a generation of people who only know the remakes, like that pitiable Texas Chainsaw re-do. Zombie: Oh for sure. That generation is now. And there’s more to come, you know, there’s the remake of The Wicker Man, and of The Hills Have Eyes, and everything else. You name it, they’re making it. Nerve: I know. Piranha is one. I’ve heard that even Black Christmas might get it… Zombie: Black Christmas is one that I know was talked about for sure. Nerve: In the music realm: you’re performing again, now with John 5 (ex-Marilyn Manson, ex-Two) on guitar, but without favorite Zombie drummer John Tempesta? Zombie: No, he rejoined Testament. Nerve: (I squeak with joy) Well… I like both bands, so I don’t know what to say about that. Zombie: (laughs) Well, you know … everybody’s happy. Nerve: I saw your first solo tour in 1998. The set was INSANE, like a replica of Castle Greyskull, big jumbotrons projecting all manner of weirdness, 8-foot robot men stomping about while nearly-naked burlesque beauties danced sinfully… it was a SHOW. In 2002, it was more of a ‘jeans n’ T-shirt’ gig. Zombie: We must’ve been on Ozzfest. On the solo tour I always bring the giant thing, but with Ozzfest it’s just not possible. Nerve: Balls! Well, the movie is getting positive reviews. Even non-genre people are talking about it. Who knows if they’ll actually like it, but… Zombie: Cool. That’s good. Happy to hear that. Hey, that’s where it begins, right? Oh yeah… and if you want to see A LOT of (Zombie’s wife) Sherri Moon’s ass, The Devil’s Rejects certainly delivers. Any excuse, and there it is. Ass close-up. It’s actually really… intrusive, I guess is the word. And while you’re there, at the multiplex with your $6.00 taco, go see George A Romero’s Land of the Dead, which is excellent and DOES NOT FEATURE AMPHETAMINE-HOPPED HYPER-SPEED ZOMBIES, the stupidest craze in zombie lore ever. Rubbish. It’s the battered old genre vets and the up-n-coming old-school trash/horror/smut fanatics who are our hope against post-millennial rehash crap and general genre ineptitude. REJECTS has problems, sure, but Rob’s unflinching passion for the cinematic junk that spawned it is something no Hollywood money-hound hack could ever hope to replicate. Check it out.  THE NERVE AUGUST 2005 PAGE 31

In Stores August 9


Film/DVD Reviews Lou Reed Spanish Fly: Live in Spain Sanctuary Music Group Family Guy Presents Reed’s legacy is nothing Stewie Griffin: The shy of brilliant. But here, Untold Story Reed simply butchers We stole’d it from the his older material Internet beyond any decent claim of re-interpretation. The Family Guy Presents studio musicians playing Stewie Griffin: The with Reed are the most Untold Story recently characterless and tacky got leaked online. If you bunch of grinning idiots have any moral qualms I’ve ever seen. There is about downloading a reason these people Fox’s intellectual spend all there time property keep in mind indoors in a studio. the leak is probably a “Walk On The Wild Side” calculated marketing is almost unrecognizable ploy. Admittedly, there’s with the omission of the not a whole lot more trademark bass riff and the awkwardness of him lol Stewie, we stole your shit on- going on here than what’s on the television changing of the lyrics line you n00b show. It’s basically an from “And the coloured extended version of the TV show except the girls go” to, “And the girls go” make the version characters swear… which I think we can all of this song embarrassing. “Sweet Jane” is agree is totally awesome. It features Peter performed with about as much soul as a tree Griffin telling America to “fuck off,” Stewie stump. The edgy, repetitive and engaging getting drunk, some Roger Moore pedophile drone of the violin track in the original version jokes, Quagmire’s cross cuntry tour, two of “Venus in Furs” becomes a confused mess Indiana Jones references and people ordering here with some cello player screeching and beer to get the taste of weed and hooker spit wanking a ridiculous solo for half the song. One out of their mouths. It comes out September question that kept going through my mind was, 27 but it’s on all the torrent sites and is well “Why Spain?” If you’re Lou Reed and wanting worth the price of admission…which is free. If to capture a show on DVD and be serious about you’re a technological retard I’ve uploaded the it, why not do it somewhere, oh, I don’t know, movie so just punch this url into your browser like New York? Then again, I doubt they’d let and you can download him get away with a performance so lacking. As it and watch it on your computer. No Joke. a fan who holds the utmost respect for the Reed I’m seriously hosting the movie for you to and his discography, I really hate to hear myself download. It should be up there until August 8 say this, but Jesus Lou, please just stop it. This so be sure to snag as soon as you read this. is all way too painful to bare. Let us love you for -Michael Mann what you’ve been. - A.D. MADGRAS


Pills H

By CC Rose

e accidentally kicks the sheet down and light pours into Randy’s eyes.

“Aaagh!” she moans. “Sorry...ow...oh...” he mumbles. “Fuck...” She sits up, holding her head. Swaying there, her hands clasped to her forehead, she tries to remember his name. There’s a pair of black Chucks on the floor. Assorted pieces of clothing. A pack of cigarettes. A condom wrapper. He slowly stands up on the bed and hangs the sheet back up over the window. The room goes dark again. Randy lowers her head to the pillow, her hand still covering her eyes. Her tongue is like sandpaper. She reaches over to the night table for a glass of water. There’s only a half empty beer can. She takes a swig. He stirs. She looks over at him. His eyes open, barely. She offers him the beer can. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Got any water?” he whispers. “In the kitchen,” she says. He moans. She offers him the beer again and this time he takes it. She lights a cigarette. After a couple of drags she passes it to him. She watches him inhale. Bits and pieces are there. She remembers the bar, running into Shauna, her old friend from work. He was with her. He has a weird name... something unusual. “Thanks,” he says, handing back the cigarette. “Yeah, no problem,” she says. “I think they’re yours anyway.” She wonders what she must look like, smell like. If his breath is any indication... oh man. She glances at the alarm clock. “Well, I hope you didn’t have to be anywhere today ‘cause it’s like, two in the afternoon.” “Nah,” he says, flipping over, facing her. “Day off.” She’s sure he’s told her what he does for work. She tries to think. “You too?” he asks. “Don’t you work retail?” “Yeah, I get Sundays off though.” “Hmm,” he says, reaching for her leg. She lies with her back to him, his warm breath on her shoulder. He puts his arm around her waist. She can feel his hard-on against her back. “So we can hang out here for a while then?” he asks. “For a while. I got band practice later.” “Later? What time?” “I don’t know... five or so.” “You don’t know?” “I know I have to be there... I’m just not sure what time... it varies.” “Really?” She sighs. “Yeah. Is that weird or some-


Precious Moments Ainsworth


thing?” “No, no. I mean, I don’t know, shouldn’t you know ahead of time?” “You ever played in a band before, uh...” Oops. “Well... have you?” “No, but... I’ve had to meet with people before, and usually everyone—” “Yeah well, Sundays are a crapshoot, so we make it when we make it.” She yanks the covers off and pulls on her underwear and a tshirt. Then she stumbles to the dresser. There’s a bottle of extra-strength Ibuprofen somewhere in the top drawer but she can’t find it. “Jesus!” she mutters. “So what’s your band like?” he asks. She rifles through the drawer. Finds the birth control pill she forgot to take the night before. “Oh, you know... it’s... uh... rock, I guess,” she says, swallowing it dry. She shuts the drawer and shuffles to the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet she finds the Ibuprofen and pops six pills out into her hand. She looks in the mirror a second and quickly looks away. Back in her room, he’s propped up on one elbow. “You got any shows coming up?” She grabs the beer and starts taking pills, one by one. It’s a bird, she thinks. Some kind of bird. Eagle, no. Crow, no. Something like that, though. “How many of those are you taking?” he asks, laughing. “Enough,” she says. Robin, maybe? No, she would’ve remembered that. She walks over to the dresser mirror and wipes the mascara from below her eyes. The phone rings. She goes out into the hallway to pick it up. It’s Leslie, wondering about breakfast. They decide to meet at Bert’s in half an hour. Randy puts the phone down and walks back to her room. “So listen...” she starts to say, but he’s already up and dressed. “Yeah, I gotta get going,” he says, walking past her into the hall. “Ok if I use the can?” “Of course,” she says, leaning on the wall. Ok if I use the can? What the fuck? She listens to him go and then the toilet flush. When he comes out she’s ready by the door. He stops in front of her. “Hey, what’s the name of your band, anyway?” he asks. “Bangover,” she says. He laughs. “Well, it was nice meeting you Randy from Bangover. I’m Hawk.” He puts out his hand and she shakes it. “Yeah, I know,” she says, letting go of his hand. “Yeah, but you forgot,” he says, smiling. He opens the door and steps out. “See you around.” “Sure,” she says, locking it behind him. n


By J. Ainsworth

o I was minding my own business, okay! Calm down. Calm down and just tell it as it happened. Something dreadful, dreadfully awful happened, and as readers, as humans, you have the right, the human right and the need to know about it; how I hope you will learn from my mistake. Like Cassandra in the ABBA song, I am rigid and restrained…. in the mind and with shame, with shame down there, you understand. I was minding my own business like a hero and of course I walk past one of those nudie theatres on Granville… I told you about them before, and I reckon, “NO”, I’m just going to keep walking, and also its late at night, I forgot to tell you that. I pass my regular haunt. BUT THEN I PASS THIS ONE, I DON’T KNOW IT I NEVER SEEN IT BEFORE AND LIKE A FOOL IT CATCHES MY EYE, OKAY! It had a display in the window of ladies underpants, rather inefficient underpants, or “smalls” as I believe they can also be called. I noticed that this establishment offered peeping booths, those being movies that can be watched in installments for small change. You know. My will power, my overwhelming need not to interfere with myself in a scrubby booth watching a homosexual film loop vanished. I ran in panting like a leprechaun and threw some sticky bills at the clerk who I think I recognized from Uppsala, but I don’t care enough to be certain. I jumped into the first available booth. The backroom, it was full of booths, like the labyrinth on Milos or whatever that place was. It didn’t smell like a labyrinth in there, let me tell you, it smelt like disinfectant. I dropped my slacks in the approved manner and inserted a coin, or token, and the screen filled up with, wow, all sorts of stuff. Just the usual, really. This guy was getting a real suck-job from a “lady”, and let me tell you this, that was no lady! That was an actress. I kept chucking tokens into the box and spat on my hand at the same time, and as I had a mild cold it was slippery with mucus, an A-1 lubricant under all circumstances. I prepared for the upstroke… wait for it, wait for it…. the suckjob was getting boring, so I switched to the Gay channel like usual. (There’s always one Gay channel.) I noticed, at waist level, a small hole. A small hole in the wall. “Ohhhhh”, I said. Kneeling in a puddle of man-sap, I peeked in, and I saw an eye. Looking back at me, I guess. In a matter of seconds I had my huge whale of a cock in that damn hole and let me tell you this, it was suck-job action like I heard about and saw in the movies but for real, and it was happening to me, Ainsworth. The groan from the other side of the wall (I have a horsesized cock, and that’s true by the way. My

cock’s a fucking beauty. Jesus, it’s a miracle. I leave the house because of how nice it is and how it’s nice just to look at it. To hold it, I guess, and to cuddle with it. I love, really, to just cuddle with it) was like the trees were saying… ”Aaaaainswoooorthh….” Next thing I know the bastard’s got his teeth sunk in and I’m shrieking like a spastic faggot. It was like a strong aftershave on a razor burn, but on the penis. Let me tell you this, I felt really silly, and pretty gay, really. It’s kind of gay to have your penis bitten by a complete stranger. It reminded me of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, another bunch of sissies. My friend Courtney says I should use this column to do good things, and she’s right, but that doesn’t change the fact that there I was, with my cock in a wall. So you should patronize the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, who aren’t a bunch of faggot sissies. With my cock in a stranger’s biting mouth and crying, I really was the faggot sissy in this situation. Cock in a wall dilemma, all right. Whew! “You are a vulture and a hissing!” I roared out elegantly while punching the wall. It was a no go. The only way to… relieve this situation, obviously, was to ejaculate down his throat. So I did. It was great. It was a real gusher. I felt proud and bleeding. He let go. I know the slag loved my essence, the big weird bitey faggot. In the final analysis, it turned out to be a good night for romance. Thanks for reading! n

My will power, my overwhelming need not to interfere with myself in a scrubby booth watching a homosexual film loop vanished.


Jeff Cole-lampin’@Leeside photo: Justin “Likes” Tabone Shreditorial Get Yer Balls Outta Yer Purse, Alice Plaza Payoff There wa$ a Downtown Plaza open $e$$ion on $unday July 17th, with a total of $5000 going to de$erving ripper$. As Miss Kim asks, why say yes to the wrong opportunities when you could say no to the right ones ? Underworld's Cyrus Thiedeke tell$ us Geoff Dermer and Cory Beck took home ca$h, as did Todd Myers, Magnus Hansen, and Ryan and Scott Desenzo. The event was $pon$ored by Underworld, DVS, Lakai, and Matix. China Creek Update While most public feedback has already been gathered, Parks Board spies reveal two more opportunities to give 'em your opinion on China Creek, be that keep it, update it, move it, or replace it. At 7pm on Sept. 13 there's a Planning and Environment Subcommittee meeting at the Parks Board Office by Stanley Park, with some public input possible to those staff. Then on either Oct. 17 or 31 (unknown as of press time) will be the formal Parks Board Committee vote and your opportunity to speak

to the actual decision-makers, the elected representatives of the Parks Board. Be forewarned, these meetings can be long and kinda dry, so bring a 40. Bowl Series Results Seylynn: 1.Dave 57 2.Dave Boyce 3.Steve Lang 4.Shane Hunter 5.Eve Feaver 6.Giv'er Griffin: 1.Danny Hagge 2.Dave Boyce 3.Shane Hunter 4. 57 5.Calvin Hagge Dave Boyce and 57 are looking good going into the stretch, with Shane Hunter the dark horse, according to organizer Chris Perry. The Skate Spot bets they're not horses at all, but advanced primates with opposable thumbs. Next dates are White Rock, Sunday August 7th, and Whistler, Sunday August 21st. Don't miss the afterbender at the Boot, with the Excessives. Jono Jak of the Excessives runs the Absolute skate shop, according to my young apprentice Robbie, the world's politest football hooligan. Them Jaks is everywhere, especially 332 Water Street. Leeside There was a cleanup and info session at Leeside on July 23. Coordinator Matt Smed told us the tunnel will be getting a concrete mini with a possible spine, plus there's also another $13,500 in the budget for more skate/ BMX elements. Ideas and design input are welcome, they're looking for the right mix of gnartists,

skate rats, pedalphiles, and civilians. Contact Matt at (604) 762-0158, email , or go to . DC Nationals Regional Qualifiers DC Regionals took place July 23rd and 24th at various parks around the country. The National Championship will take place Thursday August 25th, 2005, to kick off Slam City Jam weekend in Vancouver. In addition to prizes, DC National Championship participants will receive a weekend pass to Slam City Jam and the top 3 finalists in the Mens Open category will be given a spot in the Slam City street qualifiers on Friday August 26th. For up-to-date info visit: Slam City and RDS Here's what's happening with Slam City Jam this year - the event is under new ownership and will take place at BC Place Stadium in Vancouver August 26-28, 2005. Slam City Jam has usually taken place in May, but since the change in ownership has just been finalized the event will be moved to August. For more info, check . RDS Skatecamps are on again this summer, for the groms. Call RDS at 604-271-7275. Also, West 49 free skate sessions are on the first Monday of every month from 3:30 -10pm. Impressed The designs of Rachel Churchill were on display July 21 at a fashion show in a loft space on Hastings. Skate community stalwart DJ George

Jeff ice-Cole, hippie jump, ferry photo: Justin “Time” Tabone

Cody kills Hastings photo: George Faulkner


spun tunes as local ladies took over the runway with sass and style in Rachel's unique outfits, each one a custom piece. The skate scene was out to appreciate; special performance by Ally 'Paws' and her breakin' crew was also a highlight. Rachel had a fashion show a few years back at the Cractpipe, and has been busy since coming up with new and original one of a kind designs in bold eclectic patterns and fabrics. War on Errorism You are either with us, or with the Errorists. Photographer Lani Johnson's name is Lani, not Lanny or Lemmy or whatever we printed. The skater doing the gnarge melon at China Creek is Ray Beauchamp, that guy rips that place. In the Australia pics, Seb Templer is with the layback FS rock, Dayna's in the tiny fullpipe, and Trevor's doing the frontside tailslayer. If ya don't print corrections, the Errorists have won. Parks 'n' Stuff A new bowl park opened in Horseshoe Bay on July 25. It's not actually in the Bay itself, too many drowned groms and ferry collisions. Instead, they put it on Marine Drive past the Eagleview golf course. Smart. There's also a new skatepark in Tofino, keep watching Skate Spot for photos and investiskative urinalism we take the "com" out of uncompromising. -D-rock and Miss Kim. Email .

Josh Evin, Seylynn Bowl Series photo: George Faulkner


Seylynn Bowl Series Well another Canada Day's come and gone, along with another successful Bowl Series kick-off at North Vancouver's pride and joy. I don't know about anyone else, but Seylynn is my favourite part of the Bowl Series. I mean… it's Canada Day, the Bowl Series is starting, summer's here, the setting is perfect... Seylynn just rules. I had a blast. Everyone had a blast. Some serious skating went down. And because of a late-day rain, not only were we treated to an impromptu powerslide contest, but we got to do the whole thing again two days later. As always, it'd be impossible to list all the good shit that happened on those two days, but I'll tell you a few things… Damon wandered in, tried the MFP gap and stuck it first try, I don't think he even noticed… that dude Swell has one seriously deep bag of tricks… some cat named Trevor (“Who's that guy?” “That's Trevor. He skates street downtown.”) nailed a lofty and clean blindside flip to fakie on the second hip, but not before taking a good slam from deck to flat. I like people who slam… purple shirt Rob was kooking it up with some snake action during the finals… Dave Priest was going fucking huge as per usual… the guys to watch, though, were definitely Dave 57 and defending champ Dave Boyce. High-speed switch action and a healthy dose of flippery by both parties made it pretty obvious that it was going to come down to a showdown between those two… and it did, with 57 on top. Nice work Dave. As I'm writing this, the Griffin contest should be well underway, and while I'd really love to want to be there to be taking notes for this article… I just so happen to be four provinces away on an island in Georgian Bay. Yeah, and just over an hour ago I discovered a stash of Coronas and half a bottle of Glenlivet in the boathouse… all graciously left behind by the previous guests. Sometimes life really sucks.

Whacks Well at the time of me writing this, yesterday was official “Go Skateboarding Day”… which really just made it the same as any regular day. I observed said holiday by skating Bonsor for about an hour and a half and then getting rained on at Hastings. Swearing at the dripping sky didn't do any good, so I went home. Happy first day of summer everyone. Bonsor was fun though, as always, and the coping is back to feeling good again. I don't know if anyone noticed, because it seems like hardly anyone skates that bowl (what's wrong with you people, by the way?), but a few weeks ago someone waxed Bonsor's coping and it sucked shit in a big way. How disheartening is it to expect a soothing, tooth-rattling concrete grind, accompanied by a sound like the heavens being torn asunder, and end up instead with a slippery banana peel slide? It fucking sucks. I sulked, cursed, and imagined all the unpleasant things that I wished would happen to the responsible party. My suspicion

is that it was the fag footin' fruit-booters (no disrespect to fruitcakes, mind you, that was just too much alliteration to pass up) that I saw leaving just as I got there. I daydreamed about them falling onto the Skytrain tracks and getting creamed. Or slipping on some floor wax and knocking out all their teeth. Those thoughts made me smile for a minute. Then I was subjected to another diarrhea grind and Grumpy Gus was right back to sulking. Don't get me wrong, wax has its place… but that place sure as fuck isn't anywhere near Bonsor's coping. Well I'll tell you something…I just stopped to read over what I've done so far… and it's kind of boring so I'm going to end it here. The take home message though? If you can't grind as far as you want, don't be a pussy and use wax… GO FASTER. - Jeff Chan “”

Jacob Rogers services a horse photo: Jeff Cole-slaw

Jeff Chan “”

George Faulkner, BS grinder, PoCo photo: Jeff Chan




SUBMIT a finished crossword and you could win 2 PASSES to THE ROCK AND ROLL BOAT CRUISE AUG. 12th, Vancouver B.C.

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

-by Dan Scum

Across 1. Index 5. Hairdo’s like Foxy Cleopatra and Undercover Brother 9. One of the 5 W’s 13. Leader of the Bunnymen 14. Self repeating cycles 16. Billboard chart listings 17. Motley Crue’s breakthrough LP 20. Habius Corpus,e.g. 21. School attended by the retarded Prince Henry 22. Superbowl stripper Jackson 24. Hallucinogenic Experience 25. The “Big Leagues” of golf 28. Pocket sized Apple device 29. To be French? 31. Yahoo! Or Hotmail account 33. Precious mineral 34. A light bulb over your head 35. North Easternmost State 36. Debut LP by Kreator 40. Nintendo icon’s evil twin 42. Sam between The Misfits and Danzig 43. Kite Aerial Photography 46. Italian Hardcore band on Fringe 47. Blood disease commonly passed by sharing needles 48. Common pickling herb (DUH!) 49. Cunning 50. Whacked, capped, did in, offed, took care of, etc. 52. Loman the Salesman or Pickton the snuff film kingpin (oops!) 53. A cote d’____ 54. One on one action 55. Pinnacle 3rd Metallica LP 62. Brutish 63. Creepy 64. Prissy and prudishly proper 65. Swedish crustcore band on Earache 66. ____em of a Down 67. Grrrrreat gas station Down 1. Claypool or Nesman

Episode 15

fight Vince 2. ___ bin ein Berliner! 44. Descendents’ descen3. Debut Slayer LP dants 4. Live Big Drill Car LP 45. To assail vigorously a la 5. Opposite of sharp Michael Jackson 6. Decay 47. Disposable ______ of 7. New LP by The Real Hiphoprisy McKenzies, “____ and Aboot 48. WWII French battle site 8. Orb 51. Solution to a disease 9. Another of the 5 W’s 52. To beat on in Compton 10. Another needle sharing 53. Molecule part hazard 54. “Wind Beneath my 11. Computer graphic design Wings”e.g company 55. Newman’s mag. 12. Technology Supported 56. Gone by Learning 57. Standing Room Only 15. Search for Extraterrestrial 58. Primus LP “Frizzle ___” Intelligence 59. Aptly named fountain, 18. ___mouse (it’s actually a “Manneken ___” bird) 60. ____ the season…” 19. NWA hit 61. “Suck Me Off!” 22. Hoedown dance 23. Primate family 24. Lagwagon LP 25. Ibuprofen, Asprin and a Last Issue’s Solution: Judas Priest LP 26. Panty remover 27. Boxer shorts remover? 29. Electronic Design Lab 30. Golf peg 32. ___ Tai cocktail 34. Adore 37. National Institute of education 38. Tree’s blood 39. Snapshot 40. Craven or Montgomery 41. Pussy who wouldn’t


The Nerve Magazine - August 2005  
The Nerve Magazine - August 2005  

The August 2005 issue of The Nerve Magazine featuring The Spitfires, Adolescents, Rob Zombie, The Scramblers, MxPx, Bleed the Dream, Kilbour...