Issuu on Google+


CONTENTS! Powerclown!


Reel Horror!


Punk Puzzles! In and Outs 2002!

8 13

Military Scientists Craft Special “Melon Guard” for PM!


Prime Minister Jean Chretien (68) is reportedly living in a constant state of terror that nightly romps with sexpot wife Aline might 5 cause some blunt-force trauma to the greatest tactical mind in the nation. This unit might be overkill, but kudos from The Nerve, Jean... safety 4 first.

Visual Arts!


Columns! Jeff Oliver!



Sections! Live Wires!


Straight 8!


Off the Record!


Books and Zines!


Blue Movies!


I’m Stalking You!


Alt + F4!


King Nervert (a/k/a Editor-In-Chief) Bradley C. Damsgaard Chevalier de la Nerve (a/k/a Production Manager) Pierre Lortie Queen Nervette (a/k/a Contributing Editor) Heather Watson Duke of Nerveland (a/k/a Art Director) Saturnin The Bishop (a/k/a Visual Arts Editor) Jason Ainsworth Lady Nervetta (a/k/a Film Editor) Elizabeth Nolan The Knights Who Say “Nerve” (a/k/a Design & Graphics) Pierre Lortie, Bradley C. Damsgaard, Saturnin Court Scribe (a/k/a Illustrator) Mike O

Editor’s Blurb! CITY ON THE EDGE!!

More laughs than an afternoon in the van with Dr. Kervorkian, the year 2001 has passed its last gas on the way out the door. Talk about your Dutch ovens… good goddamn riddance. All hail 2002, year of the Nerve Conquistadors! Short of spraying the city in urine, we will find a way to make our mark. (Well, actually, it’s been done. You’ve probably noticed the city already smells like urine. But it’s not sweet like ours.) Here at The Nerve, when your year starts off with a fan letter from the Fraser Valley Regional Correctional Centre, it’s a good omen. You are the wind beneath our wings… ignore the B.O., please. It’s so heartwarming to know that we’ve not only stoked the darker urges of many a cranky young intellectual in this city, but that we’ve also made a difference in the day-to-day lives of inmates within local correctional facilities… well, shucks — we just couldn’t be more proud. So, why a tabloid issue? We thought we’d turn to our esteemed journalistic colleagues for a little Divine (Brown) inspiration. We needed to print sensational headlines with a lot of exclamation points and a tabloid issue seemed the only solution. We also couldn’t STAND to let our nudie sex pictures of public figures go to waste. So there. Will we be back to normal next issue? No. This is how it’s going to be from now on… so fuck you.


Thanks so much for the article! Could you please ask The Nerve to run a correction in the next issue... my show’s name was misspelt [sic] throughout the article and in the website address... it is Kromosvere as opposed to Kromosphere which is what they ran. Thanks! Maya Miller (Sorry about that Maya, but we’d like to thank you for helping us break the second part of our ‘No Animals, No Children’ policy with that picture you gave us to use. THANKS! Ed.)

Our Lady Of Perpetual Sorrows (a/k/a Copyeditor) Grace Chin


Court Jesters of Nerveland (a/k/a Staff Writers) Atomick Pete, A.D. MADGRAS, Mike O, Jeff Oliver, Elizabeth Nolan, addict, Casey Bourque, Sinister Sam, Jason Ainsworth, Leather Twatson, Adler Floyd, Aaronoid, Dmidtrui Otis, Jason Wertman

adj. 1. of or associated with journalistic writing of an exaggerated, subjective and fictionalized style. 2. colloq. bizarre; crazy. [perhaps from Italian gonzo ‘foolish’ or spanish ganso ‘goose, fool’. ] Oxford Concise D i c t i o n a r y.

Good Nerverts and Nervettes of the Kingdom (a/k/a Contributing Writers) Tara MacDonald, Dave Crusty, Laird Salton, Dan Scum, Harold Septic, Rusty Haight, Matthew Burrows, Dixi Di’anno, A Girl Named Sue Alchemical Processes and Quillwork (a/k/a Press) Horizon Decorative Tapestry (a/k/a Cover) Saturnin The Nerve is published bi-monthly by The Nerve Magazine Ltd. Circulation: 10 000 in Vancouver, Victoria and via subscriptions. The opinions expressed by the writers and artists do not necessarily reflect those of The Nerve Magazine, its publishers or editors. First publishing rights only are property of the Nerve Magazine. The Nerve does not accept responsibility for content in advertisements. The Nerve reserves the right to refuse any advertisement or submission and accepts no responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts or artwork. Copyright 2001 The Nerve Magazine Ltd. Box 88042, China Town PO, Vancouver BC, V6A 4A4

Uncensored! - Viewer Discretion Advised!

Jason Ainsworth


Trust me on this NEVER let a person high on heroin cut your hair. Cowboy Zero



Fisherman Coins “Rubbing The Mermaid’s Belly” As New Starbucks Catch-Phrase! by Jeff Oliver

N O VA SCOTIA - Moncton native David Sonshine has all but ended the global search for a catchphrase that connotes the act of drinking Starbucks coffee. “Rubbing The Mermaid’s Belly,” an idiom that pays tribute to the mermaid logo on each Starbucks’ coffee cup is sweeping the nation, leaving Corporate Advertising Spin Doctors with that ‘I-wish-I’dsaid-that’ feeling. “It’s official,” Quentin Wells, a disheartened Ad Man said. “We’ve been at work on this for months, but the search is over – Mr. Sonshine has outwitted us all.”

When asked how he manifested the mental alacrity to create such a clever turn of phrase, Sonshine adopted a modest tone. “I feel like my whole life has been leading to that simple sequence of words,” he said. “When I saw the Starbucks logo, it just fit!” Sonshine, a fourth generation Cod & Clam man was “just as surprised as everyone else,” at the overwhelming reception that his new tag-line has received, adding, “Who would have thought that my sea-fairing clichés would bring me such good fortune?” But controversy surrounds the actual authorship of the new phrase, leaving Sonshine’s triumph (if not sullied) then postponed. Sources at attest that the author of the new catchphrase is not David Sonshine at all, but in fact Mr. Jeremy Sonshine, David’s older brother. “I heard him say it while

he was on the phone,” attests Keri McDonahue, a Junior Marketing analyst at Loofa. “Jeremy and I share a cubicle so I know everything. I heard him describing our new ‘Little Mermaid’ electric toothbrush to his brother,” said McDonahue.

protective, “Look, I love my brother,” he said. “And if David claims that he said it first, then he did.” But when the issue of the two million dollar check given to his younger brother for ‘Innovation in Starbucks IdiomMaking,” came up, the elder seemed taken a back. “Why, that little shit!” he said, hurling a perfumed eye-pillow across the room. “He didn’t tell me there Sonshine was any cash involved! I’ll fucking kill him!” The Nerve was unable to reach the newly made Starbucks-millionaire until days later, when we tracked him down at a trauma unit at North York General. Hung in traction and speaking though a mouthful of bloody gauze, David Sonshine commented, “I weelie mah beddah.” Frau Oola Spoogelieber, David’s new wife, nurse, and interpreter, said this: “Vat ze

“I feel like my whole life has been leading to that simple sequence of words...” catchy phrase coiner David “It was while he was explaining how the toothbrush works that he said: ‘The switch is right on the mermaid’s stomach. You’ve got to rub the mermaid’s belly to use it, kind of like drinking a Starbucks coffee!’” When confronted with the claim that he was in fact the originator of the term and not his younger sibling, Jeremy was

shatzien iz saying iz: Ja! his brother and he, und ironed things out, und very big happy family! But now, we do sponge bath, Ja?!” Sonshine grinned his acquiescence to the six-foot blonde, thereby ending our interview. Meanwhile, the proliferation of “Rubbing The Mermaid’s Belly” t-shirts, cups, java jackets, apron’s and even fetish wear have been given the official go-ahead for mass production and sales. “We’ve going full steam ahead with our advertising campaign,” says Regional Product Manager Donald Faust. “We’re very excited about the whole thing,” adding. “I’ve been in the business for thirty years now, and a catchphrase like David’s comes along maybe once in a lifetime. Twice, if your lucky.” Asked if the newly crowned slogan master had any other cards up his sleeve, he replied,

Vancouver’s Hidden George W. Bush! January 5, 2002 MATTHEW BURROWS While walking around Point Grey a month or so ago, I happened upon the residence of George W.T. Bush. Yes, it may be surprising to note that Vancouver also has its own George W, and the good fellow happens to reside in Gordon Campbell’s riding. It’s a lovely seaside location in Point Greyit affords the same kind of view ex-Translink chair George Puil (all these Georges) no doubt enjoys about three miles further east at Kits Point. Over in Point Grey here, though, it’s a rainy day. There’s a light on above George W’s front door, which suggests he’s out. I venture in anyway and decide to tap on the door. Going up the garden path I notice what a beautiful heritage house Mr. Bush lives in. The shade of blue chosen for the exterior is decidedly tasteful. This George W. must have a great deal more taste than his Washington counterpart. As I await a response I notice a “Paddington” sign, which no doubt hails from London’s Paddington station. On the outside porch, sheltered from the rain, I try to think of all the questions I can ask Vancouver’s George W. on behalf of the Washington original. Imagine you had the chance to ask him some questions for a Vancouver angle on George W. Bush. What would you ask? You see my dilemma. So many questions, so little time.

Q1. How did you manage to steal that election so effortlessly and become the most soiled American president in history, only to enjoy so much mainstream popularity now? Q2. Would you concur, Mr. Bush, that the answer to question 1 has something to with the fact you are using a horrific attack on your country on Sept. 11 as a buffer for jingoistic war delirium among your bloodthirsty brethren in America’s New War? Q3. When you say this is “America’s New War,” which one of the dozens of conflicts worldwide (caused by your country’s military directly or indirectly and your support for oppressive regimes around the world) are you referring to? Please be more specific… Q4. Will the answer to question 3 soon change from Afghanistan to Iraq? If so, when… Q5. Look at yourself in the mirror, long and hard. Fix your stare on yourself, without deviating. Now look into the eyes on one of the most powerful figureheads left in this world. What do you see? Glory? Compassion? The hollowed-out eyes of a stranded Afghan refugee at the Pakistan border? Increased stock prices for your Texas holdings? (OK, now go on brushing and sleep well tonight.) Q6. Why, during your entire tenure as Texas state governor, did you not grant one single clemency to anyone on death row in your state? Q7. Shortly before the U.S. non-election, activist Michael Moore called you a coward because of the question 6 zero-clemency clause in your

character. What shape would your reply to these utterances take? A guffaw on the golf course? A cackle in the country club? A whimper in the White House? Coffee with Chretien? Q8. Do you know who Michael Moore is? You do. Ok, one request…please do not detain him. He is a decent human being. Alas, George never made it to the door, so I went to the Museum of Anthropology in the pouring rain, before heading home. I had some more questions, regarding golf handicaps, his take on the goings-on with Jello Biafra and the rest of the Dead Kennedys, the real Dead Kennedys and Nerve circulation in Texas, so I called him up on the phone, in the vain hopes of speaking with George WT.

GB: Hello. Hello? MB: Hello. GB: Hello. MB: Hi. GB: Hi. MB: Am I speaking to George Bush? GB: No. Pause. MB: Oh, is this the right number? GB: No. MB: That’s strange. OK, I don’t know who it is, but I’m sorry about that. GB: OK. MB: OK. Bye. GB: Bye.


The Rough Beast that Slouches!


punishing series of body blows in recent months has taken down three scrappy little fighters, CKNW’s Shiral Tobin Show, The Loop magazine and Terminal City… all feisty voices of the young urbanite in these dark times. We live in a city that eats its own, and the alternative media are the foie gras at the banquet. City Hall admits that we wounded them with our No Fun City tag, (and it hung around like a bad smell, didn’t it!) and once again Pippi the Dim is on the news in his Regis Wear flapping his gob about festivals, festivals, festivals! Pip, put away the big foam finger… Rio it ain’t. If I wanted to see families sharing and caring and picnicking and flying kites, I’d watch reruns of Leave It To Beaver. (Which I will set to doing promptly after I pound this six-inch nail into my skull.) The key feature of being an alternative anything is


the fact that the establishment offers one thing and you provide another choice. If the city leaders think shushing the yappy alternative media is ever the answer, they haven’t thought about the Law of Conservation of Energy (especially funarchist energy, such a potent strain)… the same energy will find somewhere else to go. (You know the game “Whack-A-Mole”? Imagine the alternative media as the mole and the mayor or George Puil as the person frantically trying to beat us down, and you have one of my favourite mental images of late.) At the start of this new year, the same people are bogarting power, the same bullshit decisions are being made by people who are just hoping to keep the gravy train and the linen napkin lunches going, and the same shit is rolling downhill to where you and I eke out our plucky little lives. The difference is that there are a few less places to hear about it now. Rest assured, The Nerve is staying put. (We don’t even have our shoes on.) There’s too much work to do and too many casbahs to rock. Fun is still not being had by the people that need to have it. The people that can afford it can have all the fun they want… they can fly to Vegas and be hip deep in pussy like George Clooney, if they have the Benjamins. We poor shmoes have to do the best we can with what we have. And I don’t mind telling you, in a rainy, expensive city where buses stop before 2 am, Vegas starts looking pretty fucking good with its $2 steaks and miles of indoor amenities. I’m a big proponent of fun being what you make it, but when the best places to party in town are dive bars and legion halls (a big shoutout to my homeys at the Billy Bishop) that is a sorry state of social malleability. This town needs an enema. (Didn’t Jack Nicholson say that in Batman?)

Alt. media in Vancouver takes a licking and keeps on ticking… I fantasize about an army of Nerverts and Nervettes, with their t-shirts and their lust for fun, as they carouse in the streets like The Joker’s henchmen out to unleash a little gonzo on the world. (This could be you! You just need the shirt… the attitude you probably have already). It’s just crazy enough to work! And somewhere among you is a leader. For the first time lately I’m starting to hear talk amongst other young urban funarchists that they might be getting fed up enough to actually get involved in civic politics. Ladies and gentlemen, The Nerve magazine is most anxiously awaiting the opportunity to endorse a candidate with a funarchist platform and a background shaped by strong funarchist principles. Operators are standing by. If we can’t get Brian “Old Man Kenobi” Salmi to run the show, let’s at least stack the deck with jokers. Hey, if you can’t hit ‘em with a cream pie… join ‘em! And if that idea is too repulsive, join us instead. Fun is on the way to you in interestingly shaped packages (including one wrapped in brown paper for Valentine’s Day) — all you need to do is show up and it will be there waiting. Sometimes you can hear the fun breathing, if you’re very quiet. (Don’t poke the fun, though. It doesn’t like that.) We hope you’ll enjoy the fun… and if not that fun, then the next fun. There will always be more. Remember, we’re plucky. CIVIXEN wishes you another fabulous year of pigeonscaping and goatholing in the shitty little city that fun forgot!

It’s Raining Men! I

by Jason Ainsworth

Diefenreefer with The Rock !

The Nerve hits The Rock below the cock... right in the little green bag!

was going to give out ONE MILLION DOllars worth of advice to you fellows about how to go about making fake paintings to sell for money but frankly, who cares? Pearls before swine. So let’s just appeal to the bastard in you all and tell you barbarians to do what you really, really want to do. I asked Mumsy and she said okay, so here it is.…

An Expert’s Guide to Art Vandalism (For the novice.)

I’ll assume as readers of free newspapers you’ve all got at least a basic understanding of hitting and biting and gouging. For our purposes however, we need focus primarily on the hitting. I intend to provide an overview of other useful vandalistic techniques, including ripping, tearing in half, kicking over, running away, and lying to authorities. This is a real, factual introduction to Vandalism at it’s most satisfying and is in no way meant to be “jokey”, or “tomfoolerishistic” in any way. On Hitting. First you must get into a gallery. It’s free in most normal cities. Ten Dollar Bill here. Between the two of us, try a different town. Nothing worth breaking in the VAG. Actually, that’s true. It’s a sad situation, but buses are cheap and efficient. The MacMillan in Ontario has a large Group of Seven selection waiting for the pocket-hatchet, while the Prado in Kentucky is a perfect place for “Rock-in-Fist”. But let’s not move forward too fast. 1: The Fist

First select your painting. Are you sober? Take a moment to determine extent. Sweeten the deal!

Take hand, make fist; then hit and hit and hit, hit it like a sonofabitch, holyfuck hit it hit it hit it, faster and faster and it’s fallen down and its broken holy jesus here we go and now just kick it we haven’t got to kickin’ yet but just try it try it and now you bleed a bit, and the people are screaming and now its time to run but we have not got to running, sorry. The Fist... King among Men. Need more Power? You’ll find a perfectly-fitting rock free for the taking in rock pits. Happy Hunting! 2: Regular Stick. Easy to obtain, easy to use, but difficult to master. Most of you never will. Find your tapestry of choice, check for pigs and bastards and ladies, then turn and confront the fucking fucking Tapestry with your eyes full of hate and don’t take your eyes off him. Take the skick from its hiding place in your slacks. Hold the stick in Both Hands, like a golfer’s club. Caress it with the wind as you raise it above your head, hesitating.... hesitating... now’s the time. Hit it and hit it and hit it hit it hit the fucker till its bouncing like a hanged soldier and look at the dust coming off: But you are not done yet. HITHITHIT. Hit it over and over again. When it’s exhausted bleeding prostrate on the floor, kick it. Kick it and run. The Regular Stick is truly the Stick of Tools. 3: Baseball Bat. Similar to Regular Stick; more power, less élan.


ome time ago I attended a “political” event hosted by Allan Rock. As you may recall, Mr. Cock (as I like to call him) is the guy (the health minister guy) who legalized medical marijuana in Canada. With a few questions written on my hairy palm, I rushed up to get a mic on him. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to ask The Rock about the situation in Flin Flon, but I did arrange to get a few snapshots shaking the pusher man’s hand. (Evil are we with the picture-making devices, no?) As I sulked towards the exit without a sound bite from Mr. Rock-Stock-&Two-Smoking-Barrels, I “managed” to bump into the chubby, cigarette-wielding,

Polo-clad David Hurford (Count Rockula’s Igor), who was more than happy to talk with me. I asked Mr. Hurford to give me (a handjob) one word that describes the Flin Flon product. His excited string of adjectives included “nice buds”, “good smell” and the disturbingly confident “perfect”. A reliable source inside the Diefenbunker tells The Nerve that the government’s secret stash is well below fucking average. Surprise! Adler Floyd

His excited string of adjectives included “nice buds”, “good smell” and the disturbingly confident “perfect”.

4: Pocket Hatchet Oh, now this is where we separate the boys from the men. The pocket hatchet is most definitely not your everyday museum-tool. Get that idea out of your mind. Private collections are where the pocket-hatchet shines. But how to get it in the mansion? Pretend to be a salesman. Hatchet salesman. Ask the Lady of the manor for a glass of water. Then when she is gone out of the pocket and hack hack hack hack, lever the handle, pull it out, hack that Emily Carr until it’s like an eel, and hack hack hack. Make your excuses and leave. You have lied to the owner. A job well done. 5: Common Paint “The Moustache.” My Boyfried Tito by Michaelanglo De Vinchi This is a bit too advanced for the Novice. Look and learn, one day you’ll be ready to shine like a personal angel. Listen and Learn, boys. Listen and learn. The skirts too.



Return To Castle Wolfenstein

Developer: Gray Matter/ Nerve Software Publisher: Activision Platform: PC Rating: Mature Web: Achtung, motherfucker! This review is supposed to be about the current release of the RTCW, but I just can’t help not to do a little overview of this title. It all started back in 1992 when a little game called Wolfenstein 3D took over computers both at home and schools (you know what I’m fucking talking about, floppy geeks). Now, 10 years later and Captain William J. “B.J.” Blazkowicz is returning to the world of blasting the fuck out of Nazis, zombies and super soldiers. The single player story of RTCW revolves around Himmler (who believes that he is a reincarnation of a 10th century dark prince) and

back, call for backup and kick away grenades that you throw at them. The voiceovers and music are decent enough, although they could have boosted the effects of the weapons a bit… but that’s a minor issue. Who listens to game music (nothing beats the first Quake score made by Reznor) anyway? Most just put in their fave CD and go to war. The big draw with RTCW is not only its single player game but its online experience — the netcode is solid and games are smooth. Don’t be surprised if you’re up all night playing ‘til your eyes bleed. The multiplayer game lets you play as the Axis or Allies, and there are 4 different classes at your disposal (soldier, medic, engineer and lieutenant). If you played TFC, you are already familiar with what they do, and if you haven’t… you’ll just have to get the game or demo.



1.To commit blasphemy 4.German this 7.Siam to Vets 10.Gambino’s org. 13.Alyric poem 14.Pitcher’s stat 15.Mother nature’s watchdog 16.decendents' descendants 17.Mother nature’s watchdog’s name possibly 18.Fallen Angel 20.narc’s org. 21.Witches’pet 22.Progress 23.Double road bend 25.First 3 Crucifix letters 26.How Mother nature’s 29.Judge Stripes 31.Guy I don’t like 34.Evil Dead/Army of Darkness Hero 36.When we’ll be there(approx) 37.Flight prefix 38.One Half of a Mistake? 39.Child’s slash 40.Impolite and Evil 42.Work costume 44.Bind 45.Appease 46.Jeet kune do founder

48.French bad 50.Isosceles triangle proof 53.Charlie Lucky Papa 55.Spanish those 58.Random

Solve this and win a Nerve T-Shirt!!!

The first person to send in the completed puzzle wins a Nerve T-Shirt Send to The Nerve Mag: 88042 Chinatown PO, Vancouver, BC V6A 4A4

Last Issue’s Solution!

Word Search!

his quest to raise an army of super soldiers to defeat the Allies once and for all. Himmler’s genetic experiments go awry and he ends up with a bunch of square-headed retards running around with big guns… joy. That’s where you come in, equipped with an array of weapons ranging from the standard issue 1911, to the trusty and what is so far the best looking flamethrower I’ve seen in any game.

There is not much to dislike about this game, but it has its flaws. The single player campaign is way too short, in my opinion. I’m a FPS whore, so I breezed through it in about 6hrs on normal level. Sound is the other thing that could have been tweaked, but that’s about it. Considering these two dinky issues, this game is excellent.

The graphics are excellent. The Q3TA engine delivers the goods and Gray Matter (formerly Xatrix “Kingpin” Entertainment) does a great job of using it to its full potential. The models look fucking good — each skin is full of detail and is ready to get its Nazi ass kicked. The AI is also pretty smart: they know when to pull

Eye candy: 4.5 Tunes: 3.5 Gameplay: 4.5 Chill factor: 4 Verdict: Alt+F4 only if it freezes because your computer is a piece of shit… otherwise, have fun.


the nerve rails gonzo tv mamas gear funarchy cracktown piccadilly tattoo cocks marine club boozecan cocknballs stank wreck chode skunk hastinks labia vansterdam pepperspray smegma cambie pornochic powerclown cannabis nervert twatson

punk rock nervette titty sluts civixen hitler handjobs wholelottazero cowboy pasties benwa balls satan titfuck pocket rocket cobalt anal beads no fun city godzilla prince albert yuppy scum McKenzies clit ring starfucks bong cockring A.D.MADGRAS



Crazed Powerclown Terrori ! E V I S


S: Speakin’ of scotch, if you want really pertinent information, I don’t see nearly enough drinks on dis table. D: That’s right what the fuck is this- Interview Wit Da Vampire? Who the Christ am I- Tom Cruise?

M: Well, you know where the bar is. D: Do I have tits, sir?

M: Service is at the bar. Where it always is. D: That’s right!

M: Now, Pixie, I hear you do extracurricular clown activities. D: Where’d ya hear that?

M: I’m here to ask you questions, not to get you drinks. D: I’d just like to take this moment to say that the people at the Cobalt don’t treat us very well. They’re not very nice and, uh, I don’t love ‘em. And, I like sarcasm. Could I be more sarcastic? Yes I could.

M: I had to do some research. I’m not totally unprepared for this interview. D: Which came first- Maiden or bein’ a clown? I was a clown when I was born, and Maiden was about thirty when I was born, they already had the songs so I really can’t descend .…

M: It looks good in print, so go ahead. D: Prince? Prince is gonna be in this thing?

M: Do you really hire yourself out for weddings? D: Weddings? Yes, weddings; stag parties; baby showers- just no children’s parties. S: Bar mitzvahs. D: Piss Tank the Clown don’t like kids- he’s afraid of them. S: Openings of certain restaurants- except for one who already has a clown that we got a fuckin’ thing with. But we ain’t gonna talk about that. D: Basically, all we can tell ya’ is that Piss Tank the Clown is afraid of children, so he don’t go out much.

M: So what are you guys doing? What are Powerclown’s plans for the future? D: Take it one day at a time, Mikey and y’know, my plans include getting’ a grip on myself; figuring it out and fugeddin’ about it. M: And Sketchy? S: What he said. With the addition of gedouttahere.

M: Who’s Paul Di’anno? D: None a your fuckin’ business. M: So, tell me about Powerclown. S: What the fuck you wanna know? M: Everything. S: Be specific. M: I was. D: Powerclown are clowns… who rock… Maiden… (to Sketchy) Do you know? S: Yeah, that’s it. M: Well what I want to know is- why clowns and why Maiden? S: Why not? D: If you… wouldn’t you play Maiden if you could? S: It’s a pretty obvious equation. D: And clowns, like… fugeddaboutit. Who isn’t a clown? Either you’re a clown or a fool. M: How long have you been Powerclown? D: April 16, 1999 was our first show. S: We were together for about twenty five years before that, y’know. We had to take a lot of time to practice. D: Sketchy didn’t let me finish- I meant our first Vancouver show. We migrated here from Hoboken, New Jersey- after the Chairman of the Board passed on. S: Rest his soul. D: Rest his soul. M: What’s his connection with Iron Maiden? D: None a your fuckin’ business. And don’t get the Boss involved in this neither. I hear anything about Springsteen- fugeddaboutit. The Chairman, the Boss, Bitch Tits. M: Now, one of you was supposed to phone me with a list of topics you are unwilling to discuss. D: Ah, so we’re gonna play “s’posed ta”, well we were s’posed ta get rich and make a lot of money off the songs we wrote, but Sanctuary Music, y’know, came in dere with dere big bag a loot and dere broads and dere scotch and dere beer and duped us out of a career.


D: Finally, some decent lookin’ broads show up. These must be the waitresses. Just kiddin’, toots. I’ll get ya the scotch. If, uh, there’s anyone that likes good lookin’ broads, don’t come to the Cobalt. M: Where do you go for good looking broads? D: What do I look like, a pimp? Uh, yeah, that’s right, I guess I do….

M: He’s bringing the scotch. D: I got a joke- what looks good in Prince? That funny lookin’ symbol of his- get that thing outta here, fugeddaboutit.

M: D apostrophe anno? D: D-I-apostrophe-A-to the N-to the N- to the O. S: <Belch> Yo. D: Paul Di’anno’s older brother.

Front door opens and in walk Wendythirteen and Ani Kyd.

M: I don’t know, I’ve never seen you with your shirt off. D: Well, fugeddaboutit, y’know? Where’s the service?

M: He’s on his way- he’s late too. S: Prince Charles?

Mike O.: All right, Powerclown- state your names S: Sketchy… Clown D: Dixi Dianno- not piano, Di’anno.

D: That’s right.

M: Which one’s Piss Tank? D: Oh, he’s the one that you don’t fuck with. He’s the big, beautiful bass player. David Lee Wrathchild has this fruity fetish thing where he likes to dress up like a little girlM: And which clown is that?


izing Unsuspecting Locals! D: That’s the one that doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up, right? Little Bitch Tits, Calvin Clown, he’s… the Man. He’s beautiful, I love that boy. Clive Burrito is a jolly, beautiful beat rockin’ machine and did I mention you Sketchy? Sketchy can speak for himself. S: Sketchy looks out for one person- Sketchy. M: Really. Is that a full time job? S: Part time. I got other things to do. D: Right. He was lookin’ the other way while he, uh, someone, someone… what happened? S: I don’t know what you’re talki’ about. D: You’re gonna edit this, right? M: I put everything in just the way it happens. D: Yeah, well- puttin’ live to print is a lost art these days. Where’s Art? We lost him? He’s with Prince. Hey- it’s Jason Newstead, Jesus! He’ll never quit, ‘cos he’s Metallica! M: I thought he did quit. D: I don’t know. Who the fuck am I- Terry David Mulligan? I don’t know this. M: So, where are the rest of the band members tonight? Why didn’t they show up? D: Once again, Mikey, I gotta tell ya to mind your own business, you know what I’m saying? Like, I don’t ask you where your mother is. M: If I wanted to mind my own business, I wouldn’t be here doing an interview. D: Isn’t this your business? M: Sometimes. S: Mind it. M: I am minding it- I ask questions, you answer them. Or don’t answer them. D: All right then. The other clowns- they ain’t here. Where are

they? They aren’t here. Okay, where aren’t they? S: Here. D: Yeah… (gestures wildly) I like that guys hair- I like that.

M: It’s a pretty sweet mullet. D: That guy that just walked out- that was Adrian Smith, I think! M: Was that Adrian Smith? From Iron Maiden? D: That’s right. He’s the guitarist that you don’t hear much about. You got Steve Harris, one of the greatest songwriters of our time; you got Bruce Dickinson, y’know, uh, if ya look ya might see Bruce, uh, you got Nickelback on the drums, y’know- Dave Murray, who the fuck does that guy look like? He looks like, uh, Tracy McLeod…. S: He looks like that guy who used to be at the Rubber Room. D: Pickled Beats. That’s right, maybe Dave Murray is Pickled Beats. S: He’s pickled anyway.

S: Pizzazz. D: I’ll tell you what it is, buddy, it’s like the Boss’s phone numberif you don’t know what it is, I can’t tell ya. If you don’t know where it’s at, I can’t show ya. M: So, you said don’t mention the Boss and then you brought him up. You got a thing with Bruce Springsteen? D: No, I said you don’t bring him up. I can bring him up. S: He’s says he’s got the number- don’t ask him for it. M: I don’t want it. S: You don’t gotta ask.

continued on p. 13

M: Do you remember the first time you heard Iron Maiden? D: Ya, I got Powerslave for my thirteenth Christmas. Sketchy? S: I got Peace of Mind for my eleventh Christmas. D: So that means your father bought you your first hooker- and you got laid. So you got your peace of mind… know that, uh, knowing…. S: Figuratively, not literally. M: And how did it change your life? S: It got me into drugs. D: It got me into more Maiden, which led to singin’ in a real funny voice. Y’know, I gotta be honest, they kind of lost me after Live After Death. I don’t what happened. S: We don’t do nothin’ after Powerslave. M: What year was Powerslave? D: 1984. Maiden released five consecutive albums over five consecutive years, despite changing a guitar player, a drummer and a singer. S: Think about it. D: Yeah. That was us. M: That was you? S: No. The Us Festival I believe he was referring to. M: I get it. Ever read any of Bruce Dickinson’s books? S: Didn’t he write, like, Alice in Wonderland? D: All’s I know is Bruce Dickinson has a song called ‘Shoot All the Clowns’. C’mon, we don’t have a song called… ‘How Can I Be P.C.’- by that I mean Powerclown… we didn’t write a song called ‘Shoot All the Fruity Fencin’ Midgets’. And, I hope Bruce has sense of humour to go with that goofy face. M: So the ‘Shoot All the Clowns’ song- did he take Powerclown personally? D: Well, y’know what we told ya earlier about the Sanctuary Music and the money and the broads- they published Iron Maiden’s copyright incorporated music. They’s the pimps, Maiden’s the ho’s and we got dumped. M: What happened to the money and the broads? Did you get the money and the broads? And scotch? D: Buddy, I never seen so much money, broads and scotch- a lifetime supply. Who woulda figured we’d run out by 1999? M: What year did you get it? D: ’78. Summer of ’79, I think. Those were the best days of my life. M: Why? S: You shoulda seen his sideburns. D: Got my first real clown wig, bought down at Bazaar, got some funny little shoes… no wait- it was the summer of ’95. M: That’s a big jump. D: Big shoes. Big jump, think about it, do the math. M: I’m not here to do math. I roll the tape. D: Speaking of which, you wanna keep the questions less personal? M: Am I being too personal? D: Nah, make the questions more personal. M: Why, do you got something you want to get off your chest, like that cravat? D: I don’t know, I got a fabulously hairy chest, maybe if I was Magnum I’d be, uh, I’d be uh… what’s that called? Uh, aesthetically appealing? M: Is that your dream? D: Well, how do you ever really know, y’know? Look at me- I look fuckin’ great. I don’t know about fuckin’ the other Clowns, but I know what I got. M: What do you got?


Powerclown from p. 11 M: I didn’t. S: Do you know how old we are? M: No, no I don’t. Tell me how old you are. D: Fugeddaboutit. S: You know how much Piss Tank weighs? M: Nope. D: Fugeddaboutit. M: Have you weighed him? S: I’ve waited for him. D: I showed him the way. To the bathroom. M: Does he have problems being punctual? D: We put the Punk in punctual. You don’t need a mohawk to be a punk and you don’t need make-up to be a clown. M: Obviously. You didn’t put much work into it- you got some little football smudges going on there but… D: And you look like Maury Povich. M: Really? D: Stop with the name calling already. M: I don’t look like Maury Povitch. D: Well, I don’t have little splotches of make up, but Sketchy is wearing make up. Sketchy’s wearing flesh coloured make up with his little chin strip of a soul patch. M: Whoo. So you take the make up off to play. S: Exactly. D: Now you got it. M: You’re the opposite of Kiss. D: What would that be? Blow job? M: No, the band Kiss. D: Until they took the make up off, I thought they were broads. S: Especially Gene Simmons. M: I would have thought Paul Stanley was the most likely to be a chick. D: Paul’s kind of a guys name, but y’know Gene is hard to tell. M: Gene is ambiguous, it could go either way. D: I’ve talked to a couple of ladies and Gene’s not amBIGuous, if you know what I mean. M: Explain. D: His penis is not all it’s cracked up to be. M: I’ve heard that too. D: That’s right- he’s a bit of a Hair Trigger Charlie. S: That’s why he got the tongue extension. D: Kiss are some of the greater clowns of our time, we pay some tribute to Kiss. But we are not a Kiss tribute. S: I pay no tribute to those fuckers. D: You got King Diamond, he’s a clown He’s kind of a borderline mime. But mimes don’t believe in Satan. M: How about Alice Cooper? D: He’s kind of a dork. S: Bit of a shmutz. D: Basically, y’know, Powerclown has it’s problems. But, we know we’re good. We know we’re fuckin’ hot. The People deserve it. Y’know, I wanna walk into a bar and see someone playin’ those songs like that. This may surprise you, but a lot of people are afraid of clowns. M: Doesn’t surprise me at all- I know a lot of people who fear the clowns. D: Y’know, when I’m doing my thing- why would somebody say “I hate clowns”, y’know- where do you think you are? S: Yeah- if you don’t like them, you can go fuckin’ gulp. D: The reason is because the people really like Maiden. I see it in the people’s eyes, when I’m lookin’ out there. And it’s people from all walks of life. I had a twenty year old- at least that’s what she said she was- request Prowler, the first song off the first album in 1980. Where did she hear Prowler? S: Maybe she had the album. D: Yeah, see, Sketchy’s the brains, I’m just the nuts. S: The album’s still available, I


think. D: Y’know like people say, “ Hey you clown….” S: Yeah, very good.… D: Einstein. That’s right- hey asshole…. M: What would a Powerclown tribute band look like? D: That’s a good question. S: That’s like a paradox. D: That’s a gynecologist and a plastic surgeon, what do you think they talk about? “T” and “B”, baby- that’s a pair o’ docs. M: Yeah, but what about a Powerclown tribute? D: It’s called Iron Maiden. That’s right. M: This is where Sanctuary Music comes in? D: Well, which came first, the chicken or the egg? One of them better come, cause I’m starvin’. M: What else did you guys want to talk about? D: Tits. Tits are beautiful, we like tits. We want to encourage tits, because tits and clowns look good together. M: What about clowns with tits? D: Even better. Um, we do have other interests- money, the finer things in life, we are connoisseurs, we don’t know what we look like without our makeup on- we could be that guy over there. S: You mean with our makeup off. D: We could be cross dressing broads. That’s right- it’s not easy being a clown. M: Sketchy, he wanted to talk about titswhat do you want to talk about? S: You’re the one asking the fucking questions. Gimme a nice lob that I can hit right out of the park. D: People ask us all kinds of shit like- “Why don’t you guys write some original songs?” Go check out one the other twelve or fifteen other projects we got on the go. We’re great musicians- we’re the best. You gotta be the best to play Maiden. We do this because it needs to be done. We do the other shit because we’re the best. S: We need more fucking booze. D: We got so much talent that we make Mr. Ripley look like a mime. The Talented Mr. Ripley. Believe it or not, that guy got no talent. S: He’s got more talent in his toenails. He sells them. D: Than Ripley’s Believe it or Not. M: Let’s get more booze- I ran dry. D: That’s a great idea. Mike O. photos: Courtesy Dixi Di’anno

Theatregoers Almost Crushed Under Massive Serving of CAKE!

Cake frontman John McCrea

pic: Heather Watson

Queen Elizabeth Theatre

VANCOUVER–December 4, 2001


large-scale tragedy was narrowly averted when a massive portion of dense, gourmet CAKE careened through the atmosphere of the Queen Elizabeth Theatre and came to rest at the feet of theatregoers in the lower orchestra section, blocking the exits and keeping patrons from their families for well over an hour. The lovingly

prepared treats were hurled with alacrity by a Sacramento-based quintet, including accomplished chefs Vince DiFiore (keyboards, trumpet, pastries and soufflés), Pete McNeal (drums and fruit flans) and John McCrea (vocals, guitar and chocolate ganache fillings). Their throwing arms were loose and their aim was true, and many audience members were beaned squarely in the head with tasty morsels like “Love You Madly,” “Sheep Go To Heaven,” “Frank Sinatra,” “I Will Survive,” “Nugget,” “Satan is My Motor,” “Short Skirt, Long Jacket” and an encore featuring “Opera Singer.” One overeager diner shouted “play The Distance!” during a quiet moment, and McCrea’s response – “if I play The Distance, will you leave?” — was deserving of a Genius at Work apron. (And yes, they later played The Distance.) With a solid sugar buzz making the building fairly vibrate, the evening erupted into more than your average sing-along, as McCrea pushed for listeners to “publicly acknowledge their dark side” and join in with him like they were “pissed off at something… like it’s a sporting event.” At one point, the singer went so far as to encourage the noisy orchestra section to go upstairs to the quieter balcony section and “take care of business,” adding (in a veiled reference to the US in Afghanistan) that they would also “help [the balcony] rebuild after we destroy them.” When the audience’s singing volume lagged later in the evening, McCrea played on

our unresolved East/West rivalry by teasing “Toronto is louder… this is not the loudest city in Canada.” Other magic moments came when he asked the men in the crowd to sing one verse by themselves… when they were far too quiet for McCrea’s liking, he reminded them that one day they’re “going to have to protect this city from the United States!” He gave his word, however, that CAKE is “not here to steal [Canada’s] resources,” and this Nervette believes him. Here is a band that begins its merchandise page on its website ( with the following statement: “CAKE encourages people to buy second-hand clothing whenever possible. If you cannot find second-hand CAKE tee shirts, then THE CAKE STORE is your best bet.” (In his life before CAKE, John McCrea designed and printed hand-screened shirts in his living room. In fact, he still designs the shirts — just not in his living room.) The live sound was sublime (thanks in large part to the fullness of DiFiore’s trumpet in an acoustically superior space), the group was tour-tight (leaving room for nice solos for guitar and bass, particularly in “Short Skirt, Long Jacket” and “Frank Sinatra”) and the precarious balance of antagonism and adoration that fed McCrea as he interacted with the crowd added up to a sensory feast of near-diabetic coma proportions. Four albums under their big-ass belt buckles (Comfort Eagle is the latest) and CAKE is still rising and adding mouthwatering layers that’ll surely get the drool running down the ole “Homer Simpson Trail.” All props to Dunner and Xfm for the bitchin’ hookup. – Leather Twatson

Hudson Falcons Wednesday Night Heroes The Lancasters The Piccadilly Pub. November 11, 2001

that usually frequents The Pic weren’t in attendance on this Remembrance Day evening. Almost an hour later and no band had taken the stage, I sat there bored and drinking overpriced swill; however, the tunes being spun by the DJ were better then usual. Originally, The Amazombies from Seattle were scheduled to play, but didn’t because of border problems. With short notice The Lancasters stepped in their place at around 10 o’clock. This was the second show for these local boys, their first being only a few nights before. This three piece is fronted by Greg from Subway Thugs and Glory Stompers fame. The style presented wasn’t quite as hard as the two aforementioned bands, with steadier rhythm and a more melodic guitar sound. This, however, did not distract from Greg’s distinctive tough sounding vocal style. I look forward to seeing this new act in months to come. Up next were the Wednesday Night Heroes from Edmonton. This young and radiant act are definitely creating a name for themselves in this city, playing in Seattle the night before, as well as recently releasing their debut full length. The Heroes have a fast and fun sound inspired by early English acts. Their singer jumped around and at times pointed his microphone towards the crowd encouraging them to sing along with certain choruses. It wasn’t until the appropriately fitting cover of Cocksparrer’s ‘Because You’re Young’ that a few people got on stage and joined in. All around, a fun set. The word was out that only two of New Jersey’s Hudson Falcons were able to get across the border due to problems as well. This endemic situation has only gotten worse with the recent terrorist actions, therefore, my middle finger salute goes out to both terrorists and overzealous government officials. The Hudson Falcons were able to do a two-man set that consisted of their guitar player/vocalist and another guitar player. In their encumbered condition a somewhat catchy set was preformed which was helped out with audience participation. The Falcons’ working-class political message was clear for the few songs that were played, but that didn’t change the fact that this was pretty much an unplugged set. Better luck next time boys. Aaronoid.

Man . . . Or Astroman? with Zero Zero Richard’s on Richards Dec. 14, 2001

Wednesday Night Heroes

pic: Aaronoid

I was informed on the phone at almost 9 o’clock that the show would be underway in around ten minutes, so in no time at all I hopped on my bike and pedaled down town. Inside the club I discovered, not surprisingly, sparse crowd. Due to unfortunate circumstances another bigger show was occurring at another venue at the same time as this one, which explained why the majority of the regular crowd

It was slated to be one of them ‘early shows’ down at Dicks where the bands play quickly and get the heck out of there for the top 40 dancy party scheduled right afterwards. Rumour had it that the Astromen were supposed to be done by 10:00, so when openers Zero Zero’s set began inching past 9 o’clock, people began looking around with worried looks on their faces. With less than an hour to get on stage, set up and play their entire set, all hopes that we were going to see a performance that likened to a mighty space invasion with a surf soundtrack faded. Man or Astroman?, whose schtick revolve around the idea that the band hails from the far reaches of ‘Outer Space’ and play a brand of space influenced instrumental surf rock, normally put on a show full of allusions to their imminent takeover of our planet, laden with props and sound excerpts from really old sci-fi movies. This is what I came to see,

not Zero Zero, who sounded like a Duran Duran for the next century… much like the Faint, but with less distortion. I had a hard time getting into their indie rock thing and had my eye on my watch the entire time. Man or Astroman? usually come onto stage decked out in full body containment suits and set up all their props, but tonight, when they quickly hit the stage in their street clothes to set up, it was apparent they were strapped for time. Much has changed with this band since they were last here; they lost Blazaar the Probe Handler, as their last guitarist was called, and have gone back to being a threesome. As well, their direction is more techno-experimental, rather than just spacey surf. Surrounded by giant screens displaying delayed images of the band they launched into songs from their newest disc, Spectrum of Infinite Scale (which is an almost unlisten-to-able collection of blips and bleeps, with the occasional guitar riff). They then managed to rock out with quite a few older songs like the lightning fast ‘Engines of Difference’ , ‘Man Made of CO2’ and the lyrically enhanced ‘Junk Satellite’. Despite my initial disappointment, the show they put on was thoroughly entertaining, a high energy rock show laden with techno-props and annoying, but funny stage banter. There was an array of shtick that made the show though, like the patch cord buzzing solos, a talking midi machine and a dot matrix printer that ‘played’ a metal song, while the band worshipped it like a rock god (which was amusing for almost as long as it lasted). They also churned out a full set, going on until past 11, and then went out with a bang, or more aptly, a static electric blast from a giant Science World type machine, y’know the kind that makes your hair stand up? Yeah. Cowboy TexAss

Jason Michas Element Sound Lounge Nov. 29 2001

Jason Michas makes contemporary music. It’s not jazz, funk, pop, reggae, or electronica. It is certainly not rock and nor does it have a world beat. Backed by the extremely talented Jesse Zubot (violin), Greg Dawson (guitar), Chris Gestrin (keys), Jeff Holl (keys), Francois Houle (clarinet), and Elliot Polsky (drums), the music was indeed excellent. The arrangements drew from a time gone by, simultaneously drawing from all the aforementioned styles. How refreshing then, to hear Michas croon a path into the audience’s heart, stoking their sentimentality, with original music and contemporary lyrics. Michas is forging his own path without following any trends. Style he already has. He needed only to draw from his velvet vocals, and work with the likes of Zubot and Dawson, to fill the Element Sound Lounge for his recent c.d. release of Ode to a Dead Bird (all original material and found at a record store near you). When asked how he would describe his music, Michas replied, “I don’t know.” Find out. Laird Salton


Wesley Willis, Custom On It and Grand Buffet

see Willis on next page 13

S traight 8

Confessions of a Tolkien Nerd!


The Fellowship of the Ring!

o start off with, I must warn anyone about to read this article that I am not even going to attempt a movie review from a critic’s point of view. As a Tolkien fan of about 25 years and a bona fide Tolkien nerd for about 15, I am completely unable to objectively look at Peter Jackson’s latest offering as a film. I can only tell you from a nerd’s perspective how it compared to my imagination of Middle Earth and its inhabitants. And if you haven’t read the books or seen the movie you might want to pass on reading this at all, since I don’t plan on keeping any surprises and I’m also going to refer to characters and events like everyone knows who they are. End of disclaimer.

The first I heard about the film version of the Lord of the Rings trilogy was a couple of years ago in a fashion or entertainment magazine that I was reading at work. The movie was mentioned ever so briefly in passing; an item about Liv Tyler reported that she was told to lose weight since she was getting too fat to play Arwen, the “warrior princess”. This tiny gossip item was enough to completely infuriate me, as I imagined a Lord of the Rings transformed into a Zena rip-off, most likely with some flying kung fu tricks thrown in as well. Arwen is no warrior princess, and although that type of character is good for all the boys and girls (hot body yet strong character so good role model), I was not prepared to see it imposed onto one of my all-time favorite books. True enough there aren’t a lot of female characters in the book, but there sure aren’t any Lando Calrissians either. If they were worried about creating a strong female lead, how were they going to deal with the potential

racial problems with an essentially Nordic myth? Over the course of the next year or so, however, curiosity prevailed and I checked the official web site ( to see what was happening. By the end of my perusal I had seen a Hobbiton that was essentially my imagination come to life, and had read an impressive cast list with names such as Ian Holm, Ian McKellan, Cate Blanchett and Sean Bean. Before I knew it I was downloading official screen savers, counting down the days ‘til theatrical release, and fantasizing about using my position as The Nerve’s Film Editor for evil (getting free tickets to the preview – unfortunately, laziness prevailed over villainy). Just as I am a bad film editor, so am I a bad Tolkien nerd. While I learned to read the Elvish runes in high school and can still understand most of them, I never did learn how to speak the language. Nor did I go to The Fellowship of the Ring on opening day, or even on opening weekend. I waited until Christmas Eve, a full 6 days after theatrical release! I did, however, reread Tolkien’s Silmarillion, basically a history book of the beginning of the world up until the events covered in the trilogy — I’ve read the trilogy itself enough times not to need any brushing up in that respect. When I did finally see the movie I was aware that Liv Tyler’s character Arwen had been fused with that of Glorfindel in the book, and I was even okay with it. I could see how having yet another golden haired elf lord might be confusing, and Arwen really didn’t have a lot to do in the book. I was also okay with them leaving out some parts that weren’t totally essential to the story because let’s face it, even the pared-down version at 3 hours is a lot to sit in a theatre, even if it is a veritable Colossus. For the most part, I was pleased with how well the movie fit in with my vision of the book. Most of this has to do with the set design and scenery, and admittedly Jackson and crew put an unbelievable amount of work into making it look right. Not only is New Zealand an apparently ideal canvas for Middle Earth, the team’s attention to detail was incredible. From planting vegetable gardens in Hobbiton a year prior to filming, to the hand-crafting of thousands of individual weapons and masks; the visual components were all in place. Even using big people

instead of little people to play the hobbits worked out fine, if you can get over the casting of Elijah Wood as Frodo. The most rewarding aspects for me were the rich incorporation of Tolkien’s art, drawings and maps, and the things that were just too big in scale for me to imagine properly, such as Sauron’s fortress. I do, of course, have some quibbles. Jackson is quoted on the back cover of the Official Souvenir Guide book to the movie as saying, “The Lord of the Rings remains one of the greatest books ever written. All I am offering is an interpretation, but hopefully one that will take the fantasy film to an entirely new level of adventurousness and believability.” Okay, but if it’s just an interpretation, why does he try so hard to adhere to the book? And when he adheres so closely, why why why does he make small but irksome changes that there were no apparent reason to make? Why do Merry and Pippen become rascals that tag along by accident, when in the book they came on purpose as devoted, if slightly less serious friends? Why does Jackson have Saruman urging Gandalf to join with the Dark Lord instead of just urging him to give up the Ring and supposedly work against him together? Does removing that ambiguity in Saruman’s fall make it more believable or just over-simplify it for the dolts? Why does Jackson have Frodo think of the correct password to the gates of Moria and leave Gandalf unable to? Why does he make Galadriel have that stupid demon voice when she contemplates taking the Ring? Again, is it to over-simplify matters for those who couldn’t figure out already that it’s not a good thing? And does throwing in that “my brother, my liege, my king” line really make things more realistic or just so cheesy and stereotypical that my boyfriend could recite along, seeing it for the first time? The reason that these small matters get on my nerves is that they are so small, and could just have easily been left unchanged or undone. For most of the film I was, in fact, thoroughly enthralled and amazed, even with knowing the story inside and out and being obsessed with the details. I’ll forever be grateful that Jackson left in the party scene where Bilbo’s friends are trying to work out if he’s just insulted them or not, for example. I’m sure I’ll be there for the next two movies, if not on the first day then in the first week or two of release. They just better not change anything else. Elizabeth Nolan

Willis from p. 13 Richard’s on Richards January 9, 2002 Hey, I finally got to see Wesley! Unemployment bears sweet fruit. Opening with the fresh-from-the-Casio ‘Osama Bin Laden’“You’re a stupid ass jerk / the United States Air Force is gonna kill your ass”, and the hits kept coming. Naturally, there were also new songs named for- and possibly even about- the opening bands. Too much gain on the microphone garbled some of the pearls of wisdom, but “Suck a mastiff’s dick” comes through loud and clear, no matter the circumstances. Because it’s true. Bigger, younger, and much more enthusiastic crowd than I expected. How do people manage to get so drunk when the cheap stuff is over five bucks? We’re in the wrong racket. Willis’ songs obviously lend themselves to sing-alongs: if you know the title- and he always announces it- you can sing along. ‘Rock and Roll McDonald’s’, ‘Mullet Head’ and the Daddy of the Daddy of Rock and Roll’s anthems- ‘Cut the Mullet’. Now, I want you to go down to the barber and tell him you’re tired of looking like an asshole.


In tune with Wesley’s minimalist aesthetic, Hip Hop duo Grand Buffet opened up the evening, and then- oddly- played again just before the headliners. They had their moments- challenging members of the audience to fight was entertaining- but didn’t do much memorable. Custom On It were a Generic Rock Band. Pick yourself up a copy of Modern Rock Songwriting for Dummies and you can be just like them. Although, according to one of the waitresses, the singer asked if he could borrow her eyeliner. She refused, he pouted, and that story made me glad they showed up. In the end, the evening was all for Wesley, because he is a Rock, he is a Roll. One large man, a keyboard and some vocal effects to play with. Sometimes, that’s all you need. TASTE A GERMAN SHEPHERD’S DICK!

Mike O

The Nerve’s Official In&Out List 2002!

G o re!


aving tapes coming out of ears, ala obsessive style tape piles that get in the way of everything and piss off my girlfriend, I have constantly been into the theme of ‘best of’ tapes. Just like a mixed tape, taping all the cool stuff from each film to make up a shock compilation for parties, friends, and mostly personal viewing pleasure when bored. Initially, about 6 years ago, we made a comp up of the whole Euro horror film genre. Scenes included the infamous “own gut” eating scene from D’Amato’s ANTHROPOPHAGOUS, countless cannibal munch downs from Lenzi, some prime straight razor scenes, D’Amato and Fulci zombie carnage, etc, etc... The tape was a hit and very useful for getting people into Euro horror. Recently, there was a party and I was asked to bring the tape along. Of course, I forgot about what was mostly on the tape (being mostly into straight-ahead thrillers, crime films, and westerns now), so it was good to see new eyes get a glimpse of the many “atrocities”. So many people still haven’t experienced the values in ANTHROPOPHAGOUS, THE KILLER IS STILL AMONG US, GIALLO A


Sex/No Sex Plane suicides/School shootings Sneakers/Sandals Bin Laden/Moe Sihota Getting on an airplane/Joking about a bomb Scooby Snacks/Crack Black Licorice/Donald Brashear Cat Stevens/Creed Anal/Oral Political Clichés/Great rhetoric & oratory G.W.Bush/Intelligence Stockwell Day/Stockwell Day Indigo/Chapters The Sybian/The Segue Regular folks/Super models Burritos/Cougars Cobalt/Pig n’ Whistle Being straight/Pretending to be gay Sushi/Souvlaki Software piracy busts/Lower software prices Shitty pretentious suicide music/Boy bands Going out with friends/Surfing the internet Bread and water /Quizno’s Getting beat by your father/Getting beat by your girlfriend DVD/VHS David Allan Coe/Kenny Rogers Bed head/Vidal Sasoon Lying/Truth “Don’t be gay”/“Eat shit” Prison sex/Prison love Being lazy/Being active Eye shot/Pearl necklace Damon Albarn/Gallagher brothers Bikini Martinis/Killer koolaids Make up sex/Split up sex Gay nazis/Boyscouts Uttering death threats/Actually doing it Caves/Chinchilla pouches Coup/Government Masturbation/Putting your pecker in the hot tub whirlpool Old people/Kids Cancer/Embryonic stem cell research Fucking her gently/Rough sex Al Queda/Scientology Showers/Putting a soap up your ass while you shower Job websties/EN websites 24 hr lan centers/Christian owned theme parks Ugly hot chicks/stuck up cunts Broken car windows/American flags in cars Jihad paradise/Gangsters paradise stunt cocks/stunt tits sensible haircuts/hippies “real” sex/online fantasies Pointing out the obvious/strong silent type Saggy lobes/saggy labia the old “in out, in out”/making “love” hot lesbians/bull dykes

VENEZIA, and so on. Amazing. Lately I have been pondering the notion of doing up another compilation even more obsessive and more directed than the last. A friend of mine was doing her own for some gig background thing, and another bro of mine was doing up a comp of all of Henry Silva’s most outlandish scenes. First off, I have always had a penchant for the world of the black gloved killer - most commonly found in the Italian thriller/giallo film (“giallo” meaning yellow - the color of the early Italian thriller novels. Since the Italian thrillers were comparable, plot wise, to the yellow covered pulp books, it was natural to call the genre “giallo”). The main problem, or course, is that not all of the giallo films do include a black gloved killer, or a multiple of killings for that matter. Some of the earlier Umberto Lenzi thrillers revolved around a single murder or a slow plot to kill off a rich Carolyn Baker. Luigi Cozzi’s almighty classic THE DARK IS DEATH’S FRIEND had multiple murders, but were all fashioned around a long intertwining story that didn’t involve one single killer (one of them was dressed in all black though). “Giallo” films like Giuseppe Bennati’s creepy DEMONS-like crotch stabbing epic had a single killer masked and gloved - but also featured a supernatural haunting. Another example is Falvio Mogherini’s THE PYJAMA GIRL CASE. A corpse is found and put on display for the public(!!!) to identify, the plot then weaving backwards to discover who the faceless girl was and who the murderer is. All very cool films with some of the ingredients I’m after, but not to the punch - black gloves and razors. As I went through the collection, I took note that I had approximately 45 giallo films that fit the description. Straight-ahead, one or two killers, gloved, with many different sharp objects. The other little snag I ran into was that I couldn’t and didn’t want to include any commercial releases for the comp. One, because I’m not allowed to copy the shit, and two, I wanted people to check out new

unreleased stuff from international sources. So- no violence from THE NEW YORK RIPPER, DEEP RED, BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMMAGE, TENEBRE, TORSO, etc, etc... I was left off with around 38 films that have been transferred from international sources (PAL and SECAM) so I was ready to go. It took about 2 weeks of working around 3 hours a day to create the “masterpiece” that ended up being an hour and a half of gloves, knives, and blood. Watching the final product was a joy in the sense that some of my attractions to the genre were evident. The eccentricities that made up the genre were impossible not to pick out. Hatted/masked black clothed figures, with gloves and sharp objects - cutting up their victims over and over and over and over again. Kind of a disturbing experience to say the least - especially when one realizes that this is the trend that the Italian audiences were subjected to back in the seventies. I also was reminded of a lot: - Of course, George Hilton stars in MANY of the thrillers opposite the beautiful Edwige Fenech. - The underrated and very hot Susan Scott is in ALOT of the films. - Men were just as often killed as the women (that I didn’t expect or forgot about).

continued over

Premier Gordon Campbell Reveals Secret Agenda for ‘No Funcaught City’! It’s like I’ve been in the headlights! It all

makes sense to me now… BC should be modeled after Vegas! I wanna see showgirls everywhere! Booze and vomit should choke the streets! You want a liquor license? No problem! Just make sure my tab is taken care of! OK? AHAHAHAHA!” The premier’s enthusiasm took many by surprise, and when asked if he was drunk, he replied boisterously, “only on power, my good man!” He then ordered a round of china whites. When asked about the recent alcohol abuse admissions by Alberta premier Ralph Klein, Campbell, sounding a hell of alot like the Crocodile Hunter, replied only, “look at the jugs on this lovely specimen!”! “Benny turned the dial on his Short Wave radio. Oh how he wanted to talk to the people, he wanted his own show”. Benny can’t have his own show, but you can come close with kaos. This 100% owned and operated Canadian online radio station is pretty fucking good! Beyond the fact that you can program your own music at anytime in the day from a very huge selection, you can also listen to live shows each night. The djs are competent and know what they are talking about, with each adding a certain flair to the underground station… and it also helps that they aren’t uptight assholes. Another great addition to the station is the fact that you can communicate via ICQ/IRC or phone instantly and talk with the hosts about anything on live air. If you are like me, and love no-bullshit talk radio and fucking hate top 40 shit stations, this online radio is worth checking out. Next time you’re sitting at work, staring at the 17” and don’t have anything to entertain you, turn on radio kaos… you might just like it. Adler Floyd


S tra ight 8 Gore from p. 15

- The throat, the crotch, and the stomach are the fave areas to open up in the genre. - Some of the thrillers are pretty slow and only included two or three murders (some of them only strangling). The fast forward button got worn out. - I have to admit, I watched some of the films pretty half ass since most of them are in Italian language with no subs - so I forgot about how brutal some of them are! If you’re going to do up a good giallo order - check these out: The classic Massimo Dallamano film WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO SOLANGE?, Camille Teti’s THE KILLER IS STILL AMONG US, Mario Landi’s GIALLO A VENEZIA, Roberto Montero’s SO SWEET SO DEAD, Andrea Bianchi’s STRIP NUDE FOR YOUR KILLER, Sergio Martino’s CASE OF THE SCORPION’S TAIL, Fernando Di Leo’s SLAUGHTER HOTEL, Stelvio Massi’s FIVE WOMEN FOR THE KILLER, and Jose Luis Madrid’s SEVEN MURDERS FOR SCOTLAND YARD to name a few. All in all it’s a pretty shallow, but “guilty pleasure” viewing experience as most of these films were the precursors for the later 80’s slasher films. Even after all this though, you still can’t beat the tangled and twisty plots that alot of these films had to offer. My fave (that didn’t really didn’t have a gut wrenching showing in the comp) is still THE STRANGE VICE OF SIGNORA WARDH. Again, mostly for its masterful plot (Ernesto Gastaldi), direction (Sergio Martino), and of course - Edwige Fenech Sinister Sam



oining the excellent Black Dog Video on Cambie and Cinephile on Main, the new Reel Horror on Broadway makes three reasons for anyone in the South Main area to NOT go to Blockbusters ever again. Staking out ground in the culturally emerging section of Broadway around the East-West divide, Reel Horror has taken over the cozy brick premises of the short-lived Eastside Pie, next to Teenage Rampage Records and Funhouse Tattoo.

Inspired by the Cinemuerte Festival, they have seen fit to stock some SERIOUS product. (The fact that local aficionados Kier-La and ‘Sinister’ Sam - people who have seen things only censors were meant to witness - have already

Shocking True Confessions!

Broken Glass Barbed Wire Street Fight By Rusty Haight and Chris Walter Number 6 – The Unpleasantness Issue $1 (email )


new. Yes, of course you forgot I mentioned “porn.” Porn in a horror store? Despite the BC censors aim to separate sex and violence, they make great partners in fictional films, as well as in bed. And the Reel Horror folks recognize this. They’ve got horror and they’ve got porn (weird stuff.) And then there’s… pornohorror? Horroporn? Gene and Jessica are doing their damndest to represent that shady area where the two meet. Yo, check it out. (Or start with Dmidtrui Otis pic: Dmidtrui Otis

As seems to be the case for these cool and/or funky independent video (and DVD) rental ventures, it’s the love of the movies that has inspired the move. New business partners Gene Morin and Jessica Kelly (‘Gene and Kelly’ - get it?) found that despite being members of virtually every video store in town, they still couldn’t find what they were looking for. So, with their bent for the horror genre (with a little porn thrown in on the side), the focus was a natural. In fact, seems they are the only horror rental specialist in all of Canada.

Books and Zines!

One drunken evening (surprise) during a conversation that turned to the subject of Catholicism, a guy at my table (surprisingly, it was not Jason Ainsworth) who (like all of us there) had enjoyed plenty of booze, drugs and premarital sex in his life was saying that, like many people who were raised Catholic, he only goes to confession when he’s visiting his parents, which he was soon to do. Upon hearing this, his (non-Catholic) girlfriend and partner-in-crime patted his arm, and with a voice that attempted some gravitas, slurred “tell the guy I’m sorry too.” I don’t know which “guy” she meant, and it was kind of a lacklustre effort, but when you see “Repent Sinner” stickers a million frigging times a day on the streets of Vancouver, the whole idea of confession sort of loses its punch. I don’t know how good it really is for the soul, but it makes for tasty reading! In this edition of B&Z, people get some pleasant and unpleasant things off their respective chests and together we experience the catharsis that comes from the spilling of guts on paper, sometimes with cool concert photos! Onward to the vicarious delights!

been spotted scurrying out of Reel Horror with God-knows-what newfound celluloid extremity, is a sign they have succeeded.) But though ‘Gene and Kelly’ have drawn out the gore fanatics, they know that educating their clientele is part of the concept. Luckily for us, they wouldn’t have it any other way. Starting with their hours - they are open from 3pm until 3am EVERY day - “customer service” is where they’re at. From the couch and the big TV to the idiosyncratic decorating, you get a sense of being home when you walk into Reel Horror. Weird home, perhaps, but welcoming. And the little touches - like the cute gargoyles and the “666 Sunday” deal (on Sundays rent any 2 movies for 2 days for $6.66) should encourage all but the most Satanic-sensitive to try out something

item from Chris rounds the whole thing out nicely. And speaking of punk rock retrospectives…

Guilty of Everything

By John Armstrong New Star Books/Transmontanus ISBN: 0-921586-86-8 (Paperback, $16)

Well I just plum devoured the latest issue of Rusty and Chris’ little zine, because the feature article is an interview with The Nerve’s own Jason Ainsworth, the Lenny Bruce of the local art scene. His Hitler cartoons alone are worth the loonie it costs for this puppy, but an 8 page (!!!) interview? I thought I’d died and gone to heaven… a really funny heaven with twisted art and Hitler cartoons. In the rest of the zine, you’ll find an exposé called “The Truth About Archie (including an informative socio-sexual analysis of the Betty/Veronica archetypes) a great new feature called “Astrology for Alcoholics and Addicts” (hey crackheads, keep an eye on your stash… Mercury is retrograde!) and old favourites like Mistress Mimi’s Advice to the Lovelorn. Some more fiction from Rusty and a nice little punk rock memory lane

Some books just scream “Nerveworthy”, and this fine filly steams to the front of the pack from the very first page with its frontspiece quote by Sigmund Freud: “One has to become a bad fellow, sacrifice oneself, betray and behave like the artist who buys paints with his wife’s household money, or burns the furniture to warm the room for his model. Without some such criminality, there is no real achievement.” The book is, as it is judged to be on the cover, Armstrong (a/k/a guitarist Buck Cherry, more recently incarnated as a Vancouver Sun writer) giving his “account of drug-addled, booze-soaked days and nights”

Reel Horror owners Gene Morin and Jessica Kelly

with bands like DOA, the Modernettes and the Subhumans. Armstrong has not only lived a splendid punk rock life, he’s also a funny storyteller: the bit about his high school “employment” at a White Rock 7-11 goes from the ridiculous to the ridiculously sublime, when he and friends Art Bergmann and Bill Scherk empty a 40 of vodka into the Slurpee machine… and who hasn’t dreamed of doing that? He manages to not only pilfer massive quantities of “staple” foods and stuff his guitar case with comics, but afterwards he obtains a psychiatrist’s note stating that “during his employment he began to hallucinate and to misidentify objects in the store as people threatening him,” so he still scores himself unemployment insurance. And working as a musician, he reminds us, is one job where “hallucinations […] and paranoia are no detriment”. A great read to take you back to the days of punk rock ghosts like the Arts Club Seymour and the Smilin’ Buddha…like one of the last shows I saw at the Cobalt – the word is “enter-fucking-tainment.” Belated “Buy Nothing Day” Loot Bag Assembled by the Anonymous Collective of Public Workers This inclusion from the phantom menace at Public Works may seem a mite unorthodox, but the letter accompanying this little score from the Nerve Mailbag is totally on topic: you see they had a party (a culture-jamming bacchanal which sounded like a funarchist’s delight, from the description) and they confess they forgot to invite us. Darlings, if you’d ever partied with The Nerve crew, you wouldn’t be forgetting again. (You might “forget,” but

you’d never forget). All is forgiven, and Father Flanagan (wait, that’s Ainsworth again… hasn’t he had enough ink in this column?) grants you absolution. ( Or is it Absolut? I always forget.) Anyway, fences were well mended with this assortment of pranky goods… coupons which “allow” the redeemer to bring back 5 empty cups and get a free Starbucks coffee, stickers intended for fast food joints featuring a cute little kid who perkily announces “There’s Shit In The Meat!”… and the best of all, a pattern envelope (for a clown costume, no less) holding assorted bits of translucent brown pattern paper upon which people have scrawled pleas for help, intended to look like messages smuggled out by child sweatshop workers …PW’s instructions on the envelope say to go into stores like Banana Republic and slip the messages in the pockets of the suits on sale there for the next person who tries them on to find. Cowboy Bob and I spent ages reading and laughing at each one. Of course now they’ve got me practically slobbering for their next issue, the bastards! And more parties please… we’ll show you ours if you show us yours. Leather the Librarian


Bane Give Blood equal vision records Hardcore fuckin’ Hardcore. This album holds ten tracks of hardcore bliss. Your gut will turn, your ears will bleed and you’ll play it again and again and again. I’m not huge on the Hardcore but this is a good record to learn from. These guys will rip ass in the future. I give it 3.5 ripped asses out of 5 ripped asses. DC Botch We are the Romans Hydra Head Records This professionally packaged album contains one minute of pure musical ecstasy. The rest is a respectable gathering of choppy, odd-time-signature riffs— both clean and distorted—strung together for maximum dynamic impact. As for the vocals, earnest blood-curdling screams are supplied in abundance, which is good, however, they are either ON or OFF. For next time, I recommend earnest grunting and snarls to fill the gap. If given enough years to develop, any band that consistently strives for musical originality has the potential to create a great album. I encourage the members of Botch to continue putting out albums until death prevents them from rewarding those of us who are dorky enough to wear earplugs to live shows. Harold Septic Knucklehead Voice Among Us Whiskey Voice Records These boys sure know how to punk. Anthemic rebel rousing at it’s finest hour. You can sing along to every song. Especially ‘Compromise California’ and ‘Right Cross’ to name a couple. What a great post British sound these Albertans have (yes, I said Albertans). I’m kicking my own ass as I listen to this for missing their show a couple months ago at The Cobalt. This album is a must for any real ‘so called’ punk rocker. Step up to the plate and get this one. DC Kurt Elling The Messenger Blue Note This CD changed my life. He is my favorite singer. He can sing higher and lower than me and his amazing control of pitch, dynamics and vibrato combine with blistering scats and rants to make him UNTOUCHABLE. Together with Pianist/ Collaborator Lawrence Hobgood he has set a new standard of Jazz excellence (even for the mighty blue note label!) One track features a spontaneous/interpretive lyrical rant while another has the players improving to a gritty monologue dotted with brilliant poetry and that oh so cool beatnik lingo. So dig it, don’t wig it, kin. Else you’d best talk to the fat lady and tune out... solid gone! Dixi Di’anno Mad Caddies Rock the Plank Fat Wreck Chords I must have changed my shirt, hair and underwear a dozen times throughout this CD. Not for the one-dimensional (metalheads). These cats... well, kittens, splice together a well plotted mosaic of melodic swing/ punk, dissonant ska, and glory rock breaks with big vocal harmonies and well restrained horns. Might be a little progressive for the average customer, but clever reggae passages and other ethnic seasonings allow time for catch up and bearings checks. Beefed up production makes it almost non-believable and Dave Matthews fans may be deterred by the pounding punk rock blasts but they’ll catch everyone else. (Except the metalheads!) Dixi Di’anno Menace Crisis Captain Oi! Originally formed in ’77, London’s Menace were known for such classics as ‘The Young Ones’, ‘Carry No


Banners’, ‘Live for Today’, ‘Last Years Youth’ and ‘Screwed up’, which was later covered by Vancouver’s The Subhumans. Although virtually ignored by the press (with the exception of Sounds writer Gary Bushell and small fanzines), the band were known to have a strong fan base. It wasn’t until the release of a single entitled ‘GLC’, which was a direct verbal attack on a certain Tory member, that led to Menace facing an uphill battle after being banned from all radio stations and many gigs, eventually bringing on the end of an era. When the resurgence of the early British Punk sound happened a few years back the group decided it was time to reunite to satisfy fans of both old and new. Now in the new millennium, we’re given the first official Menace full length containing all new songs. With Charlie Casey and Noel Martin the remaining original members, I find the new Menace sound to be harder hitting, more melodic and catchier then ever. All these songs sound like they could have been written when Punk was new and fresh backed with a modern sounding production. My favorite song here is one called ‘London’, a very emotional number that deals with the pros and cons accompanying that city. Just listening to it makes me picture it vividly. Aaronoid. Morsel Para Siempre Smallstone Records For a moment I lost all hope in the current macaroni and cheese music scene, but then I heard this. Para Siempre is the latest release from Morsel and let me tell you, it’s fucking screw, baby! No one sound can be associated with this album, the different styles although running wild are perfectly combined with one another to produce a Lynchesque feeling. To say that this album is a tasty delicacy is an understatement, it’s more like a buffet of delightful and extremely pleasing sounds, but without the stomach pains. If Massive Attack and Portishead is your thing, you know what to do. Adler Floyd No Use For A Name Live in a Dive Fat Wreck Chords We have a crossbreed folks! Bad Religion and NOFX have spawned a band. They’re signed to Fat Wreck Chords so if you are into pop punk, you know the sound. If you’re looking for a NomeansNo style, no, no, no, it’s not the album for you. What we have here is definitely generic, but they are damn good at what they play. Their sound is tight and fast while the chord progressions are mighty and melodic. What kept me listening was their abundance of energy, not to mention the high quality of sound for a live recording. Should you grab the album? I’d predict 7 outta 10 teen punks would say oi! But personally? Nahhhh. A Girl Named Sue Remote Control Yeti Lurkers &Creepers Independent I really wanted to like this somewhat technometalic ambient album, it had it’s moments (#5), but it was just way too predictable. The “I’m depressed” vocal style and front-end movie samples were a tad too much to swallow. I’ve heard all this shit before guys, give me something new and fresh, come on now! I must say that the album is nicely mixed and the quality of post is top notch. Otto and Sinistar are on the right track, the skill and quality is there, but the themes fall short. You can dload a sample from, you just might like it. Adler Floyd River City Rebels Playing to Live Living to Play Victory Records I’ve seen some big bands in my day but nothing like this. I can just imagine these guys tripping on stage, rearing to rip up some of their old-school punk rock values care of The Pistols and all that was English in the 70s. But what is amazingly different about the River City Rebels is that there are 7 members to their line-up. You’ve got your classic bass, drums and 2 guitars in the mix along with the not-so-common trombone, saxophone and lead vocals minus the guitar to hide


Be aware, punk patrons, this August 2001 Victory Records release by the Rebels is not a faulty droop of a breast ska-mplant, these guys know what they are doing. Formed only a year ago, the Rebels are able to take you on a ride along the same lines as, say, a Longshot Records release. Poppy guitar riffs, soothingly repetitive taps on the drum skins and some far-from-obnoxious lyrical blips make this record any skinny-pant, bullet belt wearing enthusiasts dream come true. After a successful tour with stadium fillers Less Than Jake, I’m sure it won’t be long before we see the River City Rebels kicking shit up on their own. Tara MacDonald Shade

Equilibrium Independent

You know you’re in trouble when you open the 2-page CD booklet and the word GOD smacks you in the face like an erect penis at state pen. This CD is so awful that it makes me want to stand outside of a church with a box of wet matches. Beth Purro is trying very hard to sound like Chrissie Hynde but ends up sounding like a hungover hooker. Mike can’t drum his way out of a paper bag let alone the one semi-bearable track #2. If God heard this fucking pile of shit, he’d strike SHADE with thunder, then flood her, and throw in a bit of famine for fun. This CD should have been LEFT BEHIND just like Kirk Cameron’s career, if you catch my drift. Adler Floyd Skint Through The Bottom of a Glass Leprock Records These Irish lads have been playing top notch street punk since the mid 90’s. Owning some previous releases, I wondered how this new stuff would match up. Now, after copious listens, it’s my opinion that that the new Skint material shreds harder then anything else! This new lineup sees the addition of a second guitar player with the original taking over on vocals. Musically I’d compare this to the more recent crunchy and technical sounds of The Varukers and One Way System. But what makes this release authentic is the mean sounding horn section and bass lines. Lyrically, the themes range from alcoholism, political correctness and daily life struggles shouted about with much anger and conviction. This release has the potential of becoming a classic of its genre. Aaronoid. Smogtown Domesticviolenceland LP Disaster Records This band never ceases to blow my mind. Ever since this bands Smog on 45 debut I’ve been hooked on their self coined style of switchblade new wave beach punk. Their style incorporates an early American hardcore sound with a surf like beat backing it up. Speed wise, things are slowed down this time around and it took a few listens before it grew on me. Out of all the brilliant songs, a line that stuck out for me was the closing verse of the title track: Who are these cul-de-sac kids?/Replicating clones/Lawns well manicured/I think I’m staying home. This is suburban angst at it’s best! Aaronoid Station A the Wasp Factory Flyer Records Wow, I gotta be honest. I didn’t get past the first song. I thought I was gonna go into a coma, man. I like was really a fan of Ian Banks’ novel “The Wasp Factory,” which this album was based on but sweet Mother of Christ this is a hard listen. Maybe it’s my short attention span or too many cola beverages but I found it hard to sit still during this. I dunno. Rusty Haight The First Day S/T Independent This is the first release for this local three piece, being a homemade DIY job. Musically I’d lump this stuff in with that Nomeansno/Wrong Records techni-

cal sound that was more predominant a few years back. A friend of mine refers to that stuff as math punk. Very well done, crunchy guitar riffing with a stop and go speedy pace throughout the entirety of this disc. With very little in the way of tempo changes makes things get a bit monotonous, but still pretty good if your into this kind of stuff. Aaronoid. The House of Pernod

The Green Hour Apertif Records

This Cd sounded way groovier after 4:20. Phat beats and funk grooves painted with abstract poetry and metaphors. Zeppelin and other Rock samples keep it real. The overall message I get is that Rick Pernod’s mother is crazy and THOP is a junction of funk, hip hop, rock, riffs and madness. Don’t listen too hard or you’ll miss the message... I did. Dixi Di’anno The Sweaters

The Kick Me Generation Gorge Records

Who would have known that the slightly frightening, drunk punk clown at The Cobalt two weeks ago was a member of the Victoria trio, The Sweaters. Our champion punk clown sure as hell resembles the smirking musician on The Sweater’s own publicity photo page care of Gorge Records. Maybe not though. It’s hard enough telling people apart these days, let alone clowns rocking out. Appearances are somewhat deceiving ­as I have learned from listening to the new/old release from the band, The Kick Me Generation. The album, which was recorded in 1997 at Slack Studios, found itself shelved up until now due to lack of funds. At first glance, I began gearing myself up for some tunage apt for the pit most commonly found in behind any old record player concealing the bad Christmas Top 40 releases courtesy of Grandma Pat and Uncle Lou. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Although the songs on The Kick Me Generation are a bit silly in nature, the music itself is tight and straight up rockin’. ‘I, Doormat’, ‘Thalidomide’, ‘The Moron’s Song’ and ‘Janitor’s Thoughts’ (to name just a few) deliver enough punch and slide guitar to keep the dreaded stop button at bay. According to guitar/vocalist Pete Campbell, the band asks the harder ‘society and its value’ questions. While this theme definitely shines through in the lyrical content side of the album, The Kick Me Generation certainly isn’t anything deeper than most musical groups out there today. Tara MacDonald The Virus

Singles and Rarities Punkcore

It doesn’t take long for a band to be considered “legendary” these days. It used to be only veteran and broken up bands that got these packages put out. The Virus are a newer American act who have already gone through several line up changes. Falling in the same style as their label mates influenced by British acts circa ’82, The Virus sound is fast thrashy, a tad melodic with an anti authoritarian lyrics. This style works well and warrants a good pogo any old day. This release contains 18 songs, 4 recorded live that include the band covering The Exploited and Angelic Upstarts. Aaronoid Toilet Boys s/t Master Plan Entertainment It’s a shame that the enduring legacy of the New York Dolls (a truly legendary rock ‘n’ roll band) has inspired other bands to wear make-up and panty-hose and prance around looking as utterly ridiculous as they did, instead of spawning more really great rock ‘n’ roll. These guys definitely have the glam thing down. Their singer is a man dressed up as a woman and I must say when I saw them play with Dee Dee Ramone a few years back, I was nearly fooled, (except for the treasure-trail and the clearly visible penis bobbing around in his/ her/it’s tights.) I grabbed his ass anyway. I figured I’d be a sport. Rusty Haight

I’m Stalking You! You made eye contact with me when I came into your store and asked you the time. You are by far the most ravishing creature ever to work at any Body Shop in any mall in any major metropolitan area. I am going to sit on the bench opposite your store every day until you agree to go out with me. The next time I ask you the time I will really be asking you if you want to go out with me. If you tell me the correct time then it will be just like you are saying yes, you want to go out with me. I have my digital watch in my pocket, which removes a lot of the guesswork. ___________________________________ Have you noticed me in the bushes by your house yet? I am there every night between 11:05 and 3:30 a.m. Yes it is tiring but I have a small folding chair and a thermos of hot coffee and then there is you, my love. ___________________________________ How dare you throw out the flowers I sent you! They cost $24.99 plus tax, you fucking bitch! They weren’t fucking gas station flowers, you prissy little cunt. You think you’re too good for me, don’t you, Posh Spice. I think I need to teach you a lesson. ___________________________________ I don’t appreciate having my phone tapped, you conniving slut. You probably fucked some cop and made him believe your lies and now you think you can turn man against man and make me look like the bad guy. Fuck you. I’ll kill you. ___________________________________

New Year’s Eve Me: middle-aged guy driving white car through intersection of Broadway & 7th Ave. You: 3 hot horny teen sluts waiting for a bus (around 8:45 pm) You didn’t see me but I sure checked out you ladies and I think you should drop me a line and come visit my “playroom”… but only if you like to party down and dirty! Email: desperatelangleystranger@hotmail. com ___________________________________ T.J., I miss you soo much. I know you said you are never coming back and that I am a “total head case,” but I believe in my heart that you were just speaking from anger, and if you just think about everything we’ve meant to each other these past 2 weeks, you’ll see that what I did was for the best. I had to say those things to your mother to get her out of our lives once and for all…I have enough nurturing instinct to take up all the slack and you know you’ll never be alone as long as I’m alive. I really think we have an amazing future ahead of us. When you think of me, remember how much I love you and know that my body aches to keep fucking you and taking it up the ass and sucking your cock until it’s dry, especially since I sort of feel like that’s the kind of thing a good mother would do for her son anyway, so just remember who really cares about you and give me a call. ___________________________________

SNOOP DOGG’S DOGGYSTYLE (Vol. 1) A Backstage Production


Snoop Dogg - sometime visitor to Vancouver to smoke BC bud and make bad movies - has aligned himself officially with the hardcore porn industry by hosting this vid/dvd, marking a cultural apex of rap-raw sex association that goes way back to 2 Live Crew. The latter renegades paved the way for mainstream acceptance of foul language, which has helped the nasty-talking, murder-charge-beating Snoop make STAR status. And now in turn Snoop is legitimizing the explicit angle that outlawed the Crew - and when a STAR backs a porn video that plays on two payper-views (in Canada alone) and makes the daily news, then you know the ‘Return to Porno Chic’ phenomenon is really hittin’. In DOGGYSTYLE, Snoop throws a party at his mansion and a whole lotta porn bitches show up, and even more rappers to ogle the girls and cop a feel - and then a few black porn studs to actually fuck the chicks. As the Vancouver Sun termed it, ‘an unusual merger’ occurs as Snoop and his Doggs smoke blunts and rap while the girls shake it. The best parts are these informal scenes where we get a new style of

X-esthetic. In between are the standard sex vignettes - though Mr. Marcus and Jade Marcela get a nod for their intense encounter - and the solid beats are a big step beyond yer standard cheezy soundtrack. Probably the first porno people will turn up the bass on. They could have taken the concept further, but with by mixing rhymes and booty, DOGGYSTYLE goes big. Dmidtrui Otis

Sometimes we here at The Nerve are faced with disturbing tasks. We do not wish these graphic things upon us or our readers… they just happen. Sometimes we are made aware of knowledge of certain public figures… Christ, I think this candid shot speaks for itself. We all knew he was into f’ing this town up the arse, but look at the expression on that poor college boy….


The Nerve Magazine - January/February 2002