The Nerve Magazine - September/October 2001

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The Indy Issue Vol. 2 No. 5 September/October 2001

A Mag for Freedom’s Sake!

in Vancouver & Victoria, BC



Editor’s Blurb Editor’s Blurb As I write this, issue #11 of The Nerve is pretty much ‘in the bag’ and yeah, we’re all drunk on cheep ass beer. I’d like to extend a thankful hand to everyone who has helped keep this freak side show on the streets. You know who you are. We’ve busted our balls and snatches to give you 4 MORE PAGES of fun-filled Nerve enlightenment. And some of it in wonderful colour, of all things. I love pink, I really do. Because, after all, as I learned in the first porn film I ever saw, “we’re all pink inside.”

might recall, I put a bounty out on the mayor’s head. Basically, cream pie the mayor and you win $100. The Loop magazine added $100 as well. But since then, things have changed. NOW, not only do I add a KEG of beer to this payload, but The Nerve extends this bounty to King George Puil. Why? Well, obviously because of the 4 month transit strike but recently because Translink has decided to stop the buses at 1:40 a.m. What kind of city stops their buses at this hour? Fucking idiots. Don’t let them get away with this! Apathy is ghay. Fight this people! Do you like getting reamed over and over again? Let the pies fly!

I now pass the drunken editorial pen to Queen Nervette, Heather Watson: Letting a guest editor write your blurb is a recipe for disaster…but according to our esteemed editor, “The Nerve needs more geek”. Apparently there has already been a blanket request for more sex for Nerve editors, so that’s out… but how about a nice dinner? The population of Nerveland is about to become 667 because D. Cat (former writer of the Sick Little Monkeys) got herself knocked up (and good) after the Sex Issue party, so we’ve got the first Nerve sprog on the way, and apparently something’s in the water, because now Jason Leblanc and his gal Wendy are engaged. Brian Else wins the prize for punk rock wedding of the year with his forthcoming nuptials at The Cobalt on Hallowe’en, But notwithstanding all of that… we could all use more sex. To quote Adler Floyd, “please… give us a reason to fucking live.” Alright, Damsgaard back here. I gotta mention something else. A while back, as some of you

Leather Twatson and Cowboy Bob getting pistoleroed at The pic. Ani Kyd Ranch

F e a t u r e s Publishers: Pierre Lortie Bradley C. Damsgaard Editor-in-Chief: Bradley C. Damsgaard Contributing Editor: Heather Watson Film Editor: Elizabeth Nolan Design and Graphics: Pierre Lortie, Bradley C. Damsgaard, Staff Writers: Atomick Pete, A. D. MADGRAS, Mike O, Jeff Oliver, Elizabeth Nolan, addict, Michael D. Dammitt, Casey Bourque, Sinister Sam, Jason Ainsworth, Ronald Barbour, Leather Twatson, Adler Floyd, Aaronoid Contributing Writers: T. Dawg McWhirter, Sonya, Tara MacDonald, Dmidrtui Otis, Toren Atkinson, garyBusey, The Pleasing Tower of Lisa, Rusty Bedsprings, Paul Crowley Additional photography: Lynne Robertson Illustration: Mike O, Ad Sales: Bradley C. Damsgaard Copy Editing: Grace Chin Cover pic and design: Saturnin Pre-Press, Printing, Binding: Horizon The Nerve is published bi-monthly by The Nerve Magazine Ltd. Circulation: 10 000 in Vancouver, Victoria and via subscriptions. The opinions expressed by the writers and artists do not necessarily reflect those of The Nerve Magazine, its publishers or editors. First publishing rights only are property of the Nerve Magazine. The Nerve does not accept responsibility for content in advertisements. The Nerve reserves the right to refuse any advertisement or submission and accepts no responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts or artwork. Copyright 2001 The Nerve Magazine Ltd. Box 88042, China Town PO, Vancouver BC, V6A 4A4 CONTACT US: (604) 899-2406 (office) (604) 632-9654 (fax) advertising@thenerveonline. com







Naughty Camp 2001


Suicide Whores The Day I Grew A Cunt!

8 22

Co l u m n s



Who Else?


Atomick Blast


My City Radio No More Nervous


Ne ws

S e c ti o n s

Response Visual Arts Live Wires Off the Record Straight 8 Books & Zines Blue Movies

4 9 16 19 20 23 23

Uncensored - Viewer Discretion Advised

Su b m ission Gui de lin e s Contact: the editor: (604) 734-1611


Subscribe! $2.50 per issue 3 Issues for $7.00 6 Issues for $12.00

Send S.A.S.E with cheque or money order to: Box 88042 Chinatown PO, Vancouver, BC V6A 4A4

Where to find The Nerve In Vancouver Dowtown North: Railway Club (Dunsmuir) Sam the Record Man (Seymour) A&B Sound (Seymour) Blenz Coffee at BCIT Noize Records (Seymour) Book Warehouse (Granvile) Piccadilly Pub (Pender) SFU Bookstore at Harbour Centre Victory Square Area: Swag clothing (Pender) Ms Ts Cabaret (Pender) Backpackers Hostel (Pender) Dream Design (Cordova) Blunt Brothers (Hastings) Kabbages and Kinks (hastings) Spartacus Books (hastings) Indy Media Centre (Hastings) Bassix (Hastings) Cambie Hostel (Cambie) Element Pub (Cambie) Gastown: Blinding Light!! Cinema (Powell) The Brickyard (Carrall) 50 Bourbon pub (Cordava) Blood Alley Bistro (carrall) Glory Foods (Carrall) Granville: Cheap Thrills Underground Pharsyde Granville Book Co. Cherry Bomb The Sugar Refinery Cafe Mack’s Leather/Paul’s Piercings Vancouver Custom Tattoo Planet Rock Robson: True Value Vintage Beat Street Records/Phat Pat’s Skate Puff Virgin Megastore Yaletown: Subeez (Smithe) Scratch Records (Richards) Soho Cafe (Homer) Davie - West End: DV8 Blenz Coffe @ Granville Book Warehouse Little Sisters Pom Shop Internet Cafe The Record Shoppe Benny’s Bagels (Denman) Blenz Coffe (Denman) Kitsilano: Zulu Records (4 th) Does Your Mother Know? (4th) Duthie Books (4th) Videomatica (4th) Pharsyde (4th) Book Warehouse (4th) Hollywood Theatre (Broadway) Black Swan Records (Broadway) The Fringe Cafe (Broadway) Benny’s Bagels (Broadway) Ridge Theatre (Arbutus) W. 10th Ave. - UBC: Bagel Street Café Book Warehouse Bean Around the World Cafe Sacred Heart Tattoo UBC Bookstore Benny’s Bagels at UBC Second Cup at UBC Granville Island: Emily Carr Cafeteria Backstage Lounge Granville Island Public Market Central Broadway Area: Poolyard (Oak at 16th)


Book Warehouse The Record Shoppe Mayfair News Cambie: Black Dog Video Kino Cafe Flying Wedge Pizza Main St. - Mt Pleasant: Funhouse Tattoo (Broadway) Scrape Records (Broadway) The Whip Cafe Brickhouse Bistro The Cobalt Lugz Cafe Slickity Jim’s Chat & Chew Burcus Angels Motherland Boarding House Puff/inkbomb Public Lounge Locus Cafe/Bar Cottage Bistro The Reef Restaurant Cinephile Video Cafe Montmartre Lucky’s Comics Langara Coll. Library (49th) Neptoon Records (Fraser) Commercial Drive: Silvertone Tavern Cafe deux Soleits Wazubee Cafe II Mercato Mall @ 1st ave. Bukowski’s Bistro East End Book Store Highlife Records Mag Pie Magazines Joe’s Cafe Havana Gallery Cosmopolis East End Food Co-Op Desserts Falafel Electro Ladylux Wise Club/Hall Van East Cultural Centre Burnaby: BCIT SUB Building west hall HMV Metrotown Studebakers Nightclub SFU Campus - CJSR FM, SFU Bookstore, Cafe/Pub

In Victoria: Barthelomews Brickyard Pizza The Cambie Cd’s Cd’s (Johnson St) Colwood Comers Pub Country Rose Pub (Colwood) Ditch Records Flying Beagle Pub George & Dragon Pub (Frenwood area) Hugo’s Brew Pub Ingraham “Roadway Inn’ Market Square Mr Mike’s Video Lobby Red Lion Inn Pacific Rim Pizza - Pandora Peppers Foods (Uvic area) Pita Pit Fed Hot Video Searly Pizza Steamers’ Pub That’s Entertainment Thursday’s Sport Bar Victoria Plaza Hotel Warf St Grill

Want to have The Nerve in your establishment? Call 899-2406 or e-mail:

Nervous Response letters to the editor, rants, raves, cussin’ you’ve lost me… but I seriously doubt that you guys care.

Dear Editor: I don’t know how to say this to you fellows without sounding like a prick, but, your magazine reeks of shit! I’ve been kinda following you along, even from the early days when you were just on the Internet. In the beginning, I thought that maybe there was something here. I mean, the city can always use an alternative magazine, right. But, even an alternative magazine has to produce something that the people want. You guys dish out some shit that maybe some people are interested in but I doubt that those people have any money. I’m not trying to say that I think that you guys need to sell out, I’m just saying that you need to start printing some shit that is interesting to start getting a good audience. However, as far as I’m concerned,

Send letters, rants, raves and comments (at your own risk...) to: Nervous Response Box 88042 Chinatown PO, Vancouver, B.C. or e-mail Letters may be edited for clarity

Thanks for your attention, John Bonner Dear Mr. J. Boner, If it took you this long to shit out that corn-filled log, maybe you need more fibre. Why can’t you be like the rest of our readers and just ask for more tit? Heather Watson Contributing Editor

WHOLE LOTTA ZERO philosophy, advice, etc

You know sometimes how you’ll stop at 7-11 on your way home and pick up one of them microwave burritos? And sometimes you don’t nuke it long enough and there are parts that are just right, but others aren’t quite ready to serve? A younger woman is like an undercooked burrito. Cowboy Zero

Big Brother Is Watching You… Again Two years ago the Vancouver Police proposed to install surveillance cameras on the streets of the Downtown Eastside in an attempt to ‘deter crime’ but they had to drop the idea because of strong public outcry. Privacy won. But now, fuck privacy and fuck public opinion, they’re at it again with a new proposal for the same thing. Once more, the VPD wants to jump on the bandwagon of Closed Circuit TV (CCTV) surveillance that many U.S. and European cities have adopted. In Canada, London (Ont.) acquired CCTV last year and Calgary and Kelowna are on the way. In Vancouver, the police wish to install 25 cameras covering a 59 block area “in an effort to reduce crime and revitalize the neighbourhood”. The proposed cameras can be driven by motion detectors which automatically focus on your movement, or they can be operated from a remote, hidden site with you being totally unaware that you are being watched, perhaps for several minutes at a time, by cameras capable of identifying your tattoos or the titles of the books you are carrying! Although early results in reducing crime appear to be positive, they don’t take into consideration the displacement of crime to other areas without cameras. In England, the long-term crime rate came down barely a notch. Was it worth the high cost to privacy? Introducing video surveillance is especially questionable when crime is dropping all over North America, including Vancouver and its Downtown Eastside. So what is the ‘real’ goal? “If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear” was the slogan

of the Stasi, the East German Secret Police. As scary as it may be, it seems that in Canada you must now hide your political dissent from the RCMP’s new ‘Public Order Program,’ a squad designed and trained especially to deal with those who disagree with Mr. Chretien and his corporate friends. What protects you from these video images of you being used against you, in combination with other records such as credit reports, defaulted student loans, political memberships, evidence of civil disobedience and activism, controversial writing or publishing and even non-violent criminal records…to say nothing of your potential (and maybe even only occasional) participation in BC’s largest (though still illegal) resource-based economy. Sounds paranoid? According to federal docu-

ments, groups simply advocating dissent have recently been the object of intelligence investigation. The police has a file on the Raging Grannies, an absolutely harmless group of grannies whose most lethal and terrifying weapons are the satirical songs they sing about social injustice. Think about it. The details of your tattoos, the titles of the books you are carrying and the lyrics of your granny’s favorite song… is ‘crime prevention’ really worth that much? The VPD needs approval from the Vancouver City Council to go ahead with the cameras. Public hearings will take place sometime in September.

The Nerve vs. Nardwuar Crusty: Okay, would you like to give us your definition of Nardwuar the Human Serviette? Nardwuar: “Nardwuar” is a dumb, stupid name like Sinbad or Sebadoh. “Human” is from the Cramps song ‘Human Fly,’ and “Serviette” is because the United States of America don’t have serviettes, they have…. C: Napkins. N: …Napkins, hence Nardwuar the Human Serviette. C: Do you have anything you want to shamelessly plug? N: Well, we have our brand new Evaporators 7” Honk the Horn that has four songs, plus the interview snippet ‘Nardwuar vs. Tommy Lee.’ It’s out right now on Nardwuar/Mint records, or at You can actually hear the thing in Real Audio or mp3. C: Is there anything else you want to plug? N: That seems sufficient at the moment. I appreciate having the floor, thank you for caring. C: So what else is going on with the Evaporators? N: Hopefully… touch wood, we’ll be able to play the YOYO-A-GOGO music festival in Olympia, Washington in July. We tried to play it two years ago, but unfortunately didn’t quite make it down to it. This time I’m looking forward to playing that. We’re also going to play the Las Vegas Shakedown in September in Las Vegas, which is the drunk version of YOYO-A-GOGO. C: So you’re going to tour all the way down to Vegas? N: I’m not sure; we may fly, because we just returned from a tour to California for two weeks. C: How was that? N: It was great. Probably the highlight was going to In and Out Hamburgers. I love them. Despite the fact that there is Christian bible shit printed on the bottom of the shake cups. I also enjoyed the fact that we didn’t have to open for any puppet shows. When we played in Boston in ’98 we had to open for a puppet show. But when we played on this tour in Los Angeles, we headlined over a puppet show. Things are looking good for the Evaporators. C: And you played with The Rock and Roll Adventure Kids? N: In fact, we played with them in Space Land club in Hollywood, California. They went first before there was any crowd and they got an encore even though there was no one there except the other bands. That’s how amazing they are. Plus they sell their shirts for five dollars and their 7”s for one dollar. C: What’s going on with the Goblins? N: While on tour we tried to do Thee Gothblins (a spinoff of Thee Goblins), [but] it failed miserably. So the Goblins are regrouping, partly because during a Goblins show in Los Angeles a member of the audience… you know the tour went well when I can say a member of the audience came and grabbed the gob-

lin hood off my head, and I haven’t had a replacement hood since. She ripped it off and I ended up performing in a Bratmobile t-shirt wearing a headband. When you are a masked rocker, to be ripped off like that is terrible. Then she attacked me and started taking off her clothes on stage. I told her not to take off her clothes and the whole audience got mad at me. So Thee Goblins are regrouping. C: How did the Dropkick Murphy’s show go? N: It was amazing, the security guards were so friendly. I was jumping around on stage expecting security to be really obnoxious and not really friendly, but when I jumped in the audience and had to get back on stage one of the security guards cupped his hands together to let me put my foot in his hands to get back on stage. That was nice. Afterwards we didn’t sell one Evaporators 7”, even though there was like 1,200 kids there. However, we sold forty stickers to a guy who is teaching English in Hong Kong and wanted to give them to his students. I don’t even know if he saw us but we set the record for sticker sales at that show. C: I know it’s hard for the Evaporators to all be together in the same place. N: Yes, right now John (the bass player) of the Evaporators is on tour with the New Pornographers, going up and down the West Coast. It’s pretty wild; The New Pornographers get to jam with rock legends like Ray Davies of the Kinks at South by Southwest. A week later he is playing with The Evaporators at a house party with Anal Mucus and Corpse

was smoking up there with Rod Stewart and John Lennon, and Rod Stewart wouldn’t take a toke and John Lennon wouldn’t take a toke. They were scared even though they were on foreign property and Tommy Chong said, “Fuck it, I’ll smoke it myself.” It was just so awesome. C: Who was your worst interview? N: Quiet Riot and Skid Row. C: Explain. N: Heavy metal and plaid do not go together, [nor do] heavy metal and toques. Both interviews resulted in the bands smashing the videotapes I was using. Both interviews were pretty boring and mundane. But it somehow irked them and they grabbed the tape and smashed it. Skid Row smashed a tape that had other interviews with George Clinton, Pierre Elliott Trudeau and Sandra Bernhardt. They were all destroyed. Quiet Riot was the only thing on the other tape. It was very embarrassing, especially for the fact that it was Quiet Riot. When I told people it was Skid Row, people were like “Skid Row kick ass.” Talking to other people, I’d say I had some trouble. I got beaten up by somebody. They’d ask who it was. Was it Slayer? No. Was it Venom? No. Was it Death? No. They’d ask, “Well who was it?” I’d say it was Quiet Riot and they’d all laugh, it was embarrassing. So from now on when I try to do heavy metal interviews, I do them over the phone. For the record, Quiet Riot and Skid Row did not beat me up. They

When we played in Boston in ’98 we had to open for a puppet show. But when we played on this tour in Los Angeles, we headlined over a puppet show. Things are looking good for the Evaporators. Fuck Corpse in California. A bit of a difference, from Ray Davies to Anal Mucus and Corpse Fuck Corpse. C: You are also known for doing interviews with celebrity folk…. N: CiTR 101.9 FM, 3:30-5 p.m., Friday afternoons. C: Who is your favorite interview, so far? N: Tommy Chong. It was incredible. It happened at the Highland Festival in Edmonton in ’92, it was so much fun. You can read the results at www. It was so great because I’d asked him about James Brown. He had a story about James Brown and his lover, and great stories about smoking dope at the Swedish embassy. You’re not allowed to smoke dope in Washington D.C. legally on the street, but you can smoke legally in the embassy because it’s technically foreign ground. It was a story about how he

destroyed my personal property, which really wasn’t that fair. C: I noticed on your website www. that you’ve interviewed a lot of cockrockers. Do you have some sort of obsession with them? Is it the hair? Is it the pants? Is it the makeup? Or how they get the girls? Or are you just a closet cockrocker? N: No… Mark Kleiner of Sister Lovers, later turning to Jungle, got me into the stuff. I was interviewing people like Lisa Suckdog and Sonic Youth, and in ’94 Mark said, “Forget that, man, you know who you got to talk to? Slik Toxic, Canadian Cheese metal.” And I was like why? “There’s tons of hilarious stuff on them. Like how they wanted to be more Generation X, that they were going to change their name to Slack Toxic.” The apex of it all was when we had an entire issue of Discorder dedicat-

ed to this revival of shitty bands. We called Discorder Disc Edge, a parody on Metal Edge. What’s really funny is you can go on the Internet and check out, a take off on Metal Edge. But it just was Mark Kleiner saying to me, “Hey man, there’s all these hilarious bands you can talk too. We talked to EnufzEnuf, enough said on that. We talked to Warrant, we talked to Cinderella, Danger Danger ’I Slipped Her the Big One’ their one hit, we talked to Ratt. You name them, we talked to them. [They] were the alternative at the time, Green Day and Offspring were the big top 40 bands. So it was fun talking to these bands who were the old top 40 bands. Asking them, “You’d never sell out and go punk would you?” And they’re like, “No. We’ll stay true, exactly what we want.” That’s what got me, head on. C: Stay true with the makeup and the poofy hair and the tight pants? N: Unlike some of the guys, Mike Tramp from White Lion ended up getting a Mohawk. I mean, come on, talk about sell out, right there. Guys like Janie Layne of Warrant. I interviewed Warrant twice. It culminated in Mark Kleiner and Pete Bastard. They had a tribute band to Warrant called Cherry Pie. They didn’t even do Cherry Pie, they didn’t even do Warrant songs. They just used the name to do glam metal. When Warrant played Vancouver the second time, we interviewed Janie Layne before hand and he said, “We

should bring Cherry Pie down to the gig.” So they go down to Studebakers, Janie Layne is talking on stage saying “Throughout the thick and thin there’s one radio station that has supported us forever” because we, of course, lied and told them we were pumping Warrant all week. “Yeah man it’s CiTR and some of their friends have a tribute band to us called Cherry Pie. Let’s bring them out here.” So Mark and Pete and Danny are up there jamming with the band on Cherry Pie, and the funny thing is the tribute band Cherry Pie never even did Cherry Pie. C: They didn’t know how to play it. N: The rest of Warrant’s looking at Janie Layne wondering why the hell he asked these guys up there, it was absolutely priceless. Another time when we interviewed EnufzEnuf, and this is a quote: “Hey man, I’ve never seen fifteen people make that much noise.” It was great. Dave Crusty



Road Kill on the Information Superhighway


eople keep asking me: “Ani, what happened to mycityradio?” Well, this is my story and I’m sticking to it.

In May I was hired by the internet station as a talk show host for my own show. The show was great with lots of cool interviews, interesting guests, fun pranks and on-the-street chaos. It was mainly Vancouver underground culture stuff. Also at myshittyradio was the lovely and talented Joe Keithley with The Joe Show and, of course, Brian (Show Me Your Tits) Else had a show too. It was some amazing programming, but, as with most good things, it came to a crashing end. This is how it went down…. was owned by a mother company named Global Tree Technologies who we will refer to here as Grab The Technologies (hey, we’ve got to protect the evil). So now that you have some idea what’s going on, I will give you the scoop (literally). On August 2, I showed up for work hoping to get paid because they were already two days late with the paychecks. When I got to the door, I realized some serious shit had gone down because not one shred of equipment was left in the studio… not a cable, not even a phone. The president explained to me that ‘in the middle of the night’ Grab The Technologies came in and, well, grabbed the


technology and all twenty employees are not going to get paid. So, not only had I just spent the last month working there hosting and producing my own show, I’m not getting paid for it. And neither is anyone else. All of us are going to Labour Relations and maybe some time in the future we will see some money, but that doesn’t pay my rent now. Only a goddamn hippy would call their company Global Tree Technologies. And kids- never trust a hippy. I asked a few of my co-workers for some words about their experience. This is what I got: Brian (Who) Else (host): “Everybody burn global trees for myshittyradio.” Midi Bitch (host, RiotRadio): “Tom Kennedy and Brian Elston (CEOs of GTT) can kiss my ass. And if I ever see one of them on the street, I’ll knock their dick in the dirt.” Pat Hardin (producer of the Fanny Keifer show and the “smart one”): “My experience with two internet broadcast shutdowns demonstrates the primary thing a business needs to succeed is- a plan for producing revenue and solid management.” Ani Kyd

The Politics of Fun


pone pantywaist sasparilla drinkers telling them how to have a good time.

y grandfather was born in New Westminster in 1922. He talks about the inter-urban railway that Mohawks: The original, outlandish punk-rock hairdo is on ran between New West and downtown back in the the rise—literally. From Madonna’s world tour to the lead day, and tells me that the stretch of wilderness that was East singer of Travis, Mohawks are enjoying a spike as the seaVan and Burnaby used to be full of bears. “You never used son’s must-have ‘do for folks with edge. But if the Mohawk to go into town without your rifle,” he remembers. If the is just too drastic (like if you have a job or something), try train broke down and you had to walk, it was best to be this variation: Pull hairs back to create a sort of a rooster packing heat. Yet another reminder that cowboy times have look. Go ahead and be a punk! Or was that punkass?[always necessitated cowboy measures (and cool cowboy Found at Features/Features/ names like “Hoss,” “Jessup” and “Preacher”) – as we here at Back2cool2001/stuff2.html] The Nerve can attest. You react and develop according to your surroundings… that’s just basic stimulus-response. It According to letters and rants in other media, something makes no sense to me, then, when I see the villification of must be terribly wrong with the people who want to degrade young urbanites for simply taking on the characteristics of… themselves with irretrievably vulgar pursuits and dark enterwell…young urbanites. (What did they think urban dwell- tainments like a “Pimp and Ho” party (which is actually so ing was going to turn us into…Care mainstream an idea Bears?) Funarchy is an ancient concept, I that it appears as a & Tarts” believe, dating back well before “Vicars You might think that your so-called party in Bridget funny comments about The Bradys are frontier times. See, when cowboys Jones’ Diary, fercute. What is wrong with you kids today? party, they don’t abide no corn- fucksakes). It’s Your comments are unAmerican and an always “what about affront to God. You better watch what pone pantywaist sasparilla drink- the children?” you say because God might strike you ers telling them how to have a Everybody’s Sally down in anger. And Barry Williams fucking Struthers. good time. never said that he “porked” anyone in (Yeah, that’s who I the fantasic book Growing-Up Brady. want determining That is a slandorous lie. It makes me want to throw-up. Kids, my entertainment agenda.) We can have any kind of fun we the tatoos and piercings are one thing, but degrading the like, as long as it’s vanilla. We can enjoy country music and Bradys is an entirely different matter. Please wake-up and golf and kite flying and face painting and beach volleyball see the error of your ways. [Found at http://www.jumpthe- and fireworks and craft fairs and flea markets. And then] we’ll be ready for our lemonade and our trip to the casino…. adler floyd says: My boozy associate E. Beetham (I don’t know what the ‘E’ i’ll end up in Riverview hospital for the menstands for…this week I think it might be ‘Elian’) and I were tally fun guests on the Shiral Tobin Show [CKNW AM 980 between leather twatson says: 2 and 4 in the morning, if you’re up!] a couple of weeks ago, I am mentally fun and I resent that comment along with our esteemed editor Brad and our alt. media adler floyd says: brother Brian “Godzilla” Salmi from Terminal City. An old it’s ok…we’re all mentally fun guy called in and asked us if we were all just “Marxist Leninist anarchists.” Salmi remarked that he was actually a When the No Fun City brigade and their fuckchimps at the “funarchist,” and our Brad seconded that notion. (I agreed board of trade start pulling methods (as Adler Floyd is fond with the old duffer, just to be a fucker.) Funarchy is an of saying) and trying to tell us that there are oodles of ancient concept, I believe, dating back well before frontier super-duper doings and happenings in our magical, safe, times. See, when cowboys party, they don’t abide no corn- G-rated city, they are denying the essential fact that their fun

is not our fun, nor will it ever be. And, really, fuck you anyway, Stan and Gertie, in your little smurf village of a walled encampment. If you want to hunker down in matching jogging suits and keep out of sight from the pierced and tattooed hooligans, don’t be surprised after a few years to find yourselves buying soylent green in bulk at Costco. Isolationism only works when there are enough donut shops and doctor’s offices, and I don’t think you want either staffed entirely by people over the age of 80. Like it or not, wherever we came from originally, living in this city makes us urbanites. In anthropology-speak, many of our characteristics are autochthonous…meaning ‘sprung from the land itself.’ The landscape around here has changed no small amount since 1922, but really, one kind of wild animal has just been replaced by others, and the cowboys have adapted as they always do. Some of them went gangsta, some of them went punk, some of them went hydroponic. Different music, different look, different language – but underneath it all, the same belief in funarchy. Urban cowboys, all of them, in the truest sense. Giddyup. Can the ‘bad’ and the ‘ugly’ rustle up any action in a pissant one-horse town that has had the life (and the liquor) wrung out of it by the cheap little tin stars of ‘good’? As long as the powers that be are convinced that we’re still living on Walton’s Mountain, I don’t know about everybody else, but The Nerve is here to fuck with that shit. Let’s start by ‘lexicolonizing’ the cultural wasteland that is our whitebread little shire. Call your neighbourhood something all phreaky and hip hop and watch the blue hairs stand on end. Here are some suggestions (based on the A2Z Dictionary of Rap & Hip Hop Slang from last issue’s Books & Zines column) in the box below, but feel free to bust your own moves…send suggestions to

Downtown core - The DTC Yaletown - Sell-out City Kitsilano - Schizilano Downtown East Side - The DES or The E-jects (basedon ‘projects’) UBC - The U-jects or The Wreckjects Fairview Slopes - The Slope or The Tarpjects (all those leaky condos) Surrey - The Surjects Strathcona - The Cone Marpole - The Pole Point Grey - The Pogue Burnaby - The Nab or The B-jects Deep Cove - The Cove North Vancouver - The Nove West Vancouver - 90210 Whistler - The Fortress of Whistlitude Capilano - Captown British Properties - The Prop-Ts Commercial Drive - The Driveby SFU - Suicide Hill Fraser Valley - The Valley of Death or Satan’s Alley (So many Christians, it’s the last place they’d check) Abbotsford - Flabby or The Abjects Fourth Avenue - The Fo’ Cambie - Bambi (for the same reasons as “Bompton” in the last issue) Oakridge - Oaktown False Creek - Faketown Burrard Bridge - B-Span (the Cambie Bridge = C-Span, and the Granville = G-Span) Granville Island - G-Spot South Granville - SoG (from ‘SoHo’) Kerrisdale - Kezdale Mount Pleasant - Plezville Cloverdale - Roverdale Langley - Gangley Delta - Helta Skelta Tsawwassen - Ferryland Mission - Mission Impossible Richmond - New Jack City Coquitlam - Coketown or Quit City Port Coquitlam - Po’ Coketown or Po’ Quit City Maple Ridge - Mapetown or The Mape


Suicide Junkies and Rope Whores E

ver since you could remember, things have not gone well for you. Back in high school you were a nobody, an eccentric art student with an imagination that was ‘all too vivid’ for most to handle. The one girl you fancied didn’t want to have anything to do with you because of the premature ejaculation rumor which somehow spread all over the school faster than a high class Thai prostitute on E in Phuket. You somehow managed to survive the many years of overzealous Christian teachers and Gestapo gym instructors who regularly made bets on locker room fights. The kids were not all right…they were decaying from the inside out. After graduation, all your close friends moved away, leaving you behind in the Bible belt capitol of the fucking world, and as you wasted away trying to climb out of the moral cesspool of hypocrisy, you began to question your fragile mental balance. Sane thoughts that entered your head were as good as dead. Each time you picked up the local gazette, your old schoolmates were tasting fame in the obituary section of the right-wing propaganda machine. While their mugshots pimped on through three news cycles into the weekend color supplement, you thought about their egotistical acts of brutality and you wondered what led them to take their own lives. But deep down inside, you understood their supermarket shelflife motives. The 24hr checkout counter welcomes all — no shoes, no shirt, no fucking problem! You have thought greatly about the grim nature of the act and how

you would go about concluding it all. And so you begin to contemplate the dark shuffling step that you hope will end your quest for blissful isolation. Overdosing on sleeping pills, getting into a car accident or maybe hanging yourself from the old withered tree outside your parents’ house during the first few days of spring…those are the things you considered after your countless brainstorms and sleepless nights, yet you are scared more than ever before. You realize that, for the past few good months, you have been feeding your brain a steady diet of extreme thoughts, and now your cerebellum is hungry for even more excessive ideas. But you have nothing left to offer… except the final solution to this everlasting dilemma. So, you lock yourself in your room for hours and listen to depresso music day in and day out, unaware that it does affect your mental state. The songs mean more to you each time you listen to them… you mature with the sound and slowly grow weary of the human race and its condition. You look at society and see right fucking through their lies and fake faces that they put on in order to impress each other. Their deceptive actions become more apparent to you with each hand you shake. You begin to truly fucking loathe the people that surround you, as their attempts at failed interactions and useless points of views only serve to make your hatred for them grow stronger. You despise their fast cars, designer suits, beautiful women, and dirty money. All you want to do is find a desolate place and fall into an everlasting coma, a place where you can rest your reasoning and escape the wolves of civilization. But you know all too well that such a place does not exist… so you think of the next best thing. You are afraid and you detach yourself from everyone and lapse into a state of hopelessness and discouragement… waiting to be amused to death. So now you want to end your life because you had a bad week or a bad seven years. Get in line pal, and wait like a good little caged albino monkey… there is plenty of rope to go around. On average, every 17.1 minutes a person


commits suicide. At this moment, someone out there is selfishly deciding to off themselves because they are unable to deal with the constant struggles of life, thus leaving friends, lovers, and families behind to question the value of mortality and rushed thought. As the family silently points fingers of blame at one another without understanding that they are not at fault, they begin to grasp the notion that their baby is no longer in the flesh. They are stunned by the incoherent actions of their only child, without comprehending that suicide whores will hide their fixations like seasoned junkies and hang themselves before your very own eyes without you ever fucking realizing it. Are these afflictions nothing more than final cries for acceptance or are they perhaps guilty voyeuristic pleasures? Do you really care…or are you just too fucking depressed? I may be a little ignorant toward this issue, but I just don’t see a fucking incentive for anyone to pull a Cobain [hey, Courtney killed Kurt! -Editor.]. We have all gone through really shitty times. Hell, some of us are record holders, but there is no reason in this brief lifetime to make it even shorter. By the time you blink or take a long breath, you will be an old man dying of cancer in some overcrowded hospital being taken care of by a husk of a nurse on a 20 hour shift marathon who can barely function, let alone fucking change you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to get all bitch soft on you and preach about the evils of self fucking hatred and choice because there is nothing evil about hating yourself… actually, I encourage it. If you decide to “Ray Combs” yourself, the reasons better be way the fuck up there with fascist up-against-the-wall murder ball and child touching. Because if you’re doing this over a woman (your girlfriend will mourn for a week or two before mounting your best friend with her slippery cunt, and for the next few months you’ll be nothing more than the poor fuck who jumped out of his 9th floor flat ending up face down on a expired parking meter), lack of money or the size of your underdeveloped squirrel penis, call me up and I’ll kick the chair out from underneath your fucking Footlocker-bought sweatshop Nikes myself, you chump! You deserve to die a meaningless, violent death for letting trivial reasons like those destroy your self-worth. I’ll see ya when I get there pal — don’t wait up…it might be a while. adler floyd


Visual Arts




t’s not everyday a person of the street beholds the gestation of a new (or more or less new) art movement, forcing its way up from the filth that is our dull little one-horse, sad hole of a sporting town. It’s even better when the movement isn’t original at all; frankly, its all been done before – we’re flogging dead cattle here – and it’s one more nail in the stagnant dead whore’s coffin that is the Vancouver art scene. This new art movement is strides away from pure penis. Where do I start? I start at the beginning I was at the Tart Gallery. The sun was setting like a dying star. The street was black as hell. The sky was blue, as blue as it was. Bryce Thing just sold himself a painting to one of the towns finest collectors, Sockamagee Steve. AND IT CAME LIKE A BOLT OF LIGHT! A deep understanding came to the unemployable underground artists who were gathered around like filth. It was like when Christ got his virgin idea… BOOOM! Holy Jesus, I was there. That streak of light was as blue as it was. What we had, after some fighting, punching, scratching and crying, was a not-at-all new movement called Voleurism. I, in my shock, made an attempt to get to grips with this new “ism,” except that I lost my notes. In the tradition of Vancouver journalism, I now make up some quotes from the master, Bryce Thing. “I... just take some thrift store painting – I use it as a background. I do it because I am as lazy as the day is goddamn young. Effort! DIE! DIE! “In fact I am subjugating the former painting, I am taking it as a pure background image and on top of it I pile myself and I make it bleed with my

own juices. And in the end, after I have taken the source and added my misery THAT IS PAINTING, I sign my own name above that of the original artist. (The author would like apologize for the above false quotations and misinterpretation of the movement. He would like to also apologize for the words “thieving” and “bastard” which have just appeared in the apology. ) VOLEURISM – I will not spell it with a “z,” that’s street creed – is an ongoing thing. All of you sad artists: take a painting, look at it, see what is wrong – and with your fists, with pencils, make it go. Make a go of it, you artists. If you want to reclaim wasted art territory by fucking well painting over it, get back to me by getting back to The Nerve, by real mail or asshole mail. I think there is a show coming up later at the lovely Tart Gallery. Talk to us for Christ’s sake. We do it in the spirit of ten year-old text book defacement. Jason Ainsworth

ell, I missed this show by a mere 24 hours – too late to tempt the magnificent FIREWEED to our particular blend of Voleurism. But hell, no Urban Brutalist like Fireweed needs encouragement by a sad bunch of Voleurist bastards. This was a hot, hot show at the Sugar & Sugar Studio on Pender Street (one of the nicest spaces in town). They called the show 10W30 – apparently, a type of motor oil. Fireweed is brilliant. They actually use this god-forsaken glue-filth in the paintings themselves – took it out of motorcycle engines! Ew! Fuck! Gritty, slimy, dripping, godless piss of the blackest piss! This reminded me of my old school friend who painted his daubs with his own population paste. (I made my excuses and left.) Except, this FIREWEED has enough sense not to rely on the motor oil alone to make the point. This show, unlike my spunky friends, had strong painterly images. They puzzled me a bit, at first. A large spread of canvases, some with old advertising images of buxom (if I may be frank) ladies trying desperately to get into their nether garments. Also tools and price tags. It was great and intensely repetitious… flogging all the fluids out of that old horse. The large acrylics around the back hall were particularly delightful. Of course, by the time this magazine comes out the show will be down. But Fireweed shows regularly, and is a quality affordable artist. And if any of you bastard readers had any decent sense of humanity, you’d at least give enough of a fuck to go out to a fucking fucking art show now and a again and at least try to have your lives changed. Hats off to Fireweed. Great show. Jason Ainsworth


lright kiddies, it’s been awhile I know, but I’ve been bizzy in the studio (and drunk!) [Not necessarily in that order. Ed.]… look for new albums from SMOKED OYSTERS, NUNSTALKER and THE DINKS comin’ soon. But now I’m back and here’s some reflection on the past month or so. A Fuckin’ eh and Fuck you list of sorts. Here goes: Fuckin’ eh… Naughty Camp, Creepy, Alice and the rest of the folks for a killer gig out in Pemberton all the bands played fuckin’ awesome the sound was great thanx to Rocky Mountain Sound. And you the crowd FUCKIN’ ROCKED, all love and little shit (if you see Creepy Simon shoot him five bucks for next year… he went way over budget and we want it back next year). Thanx Creepy!!! Fuck you… Snotface for throwin’ me in the river first thing, that was cold dude and it messed my new ink. Oh well, first cold bath in a while… and we found a keg! Fuckin’ eh… Greenday for a great fire at Plaza of Nations. Fuck you… to the caterers for takin’ all the beer so we couldn’t drink for the after show party (A special EAT MY ASS from TRE and SNFU for that one, cocksuckers!!) Fuck you… to Puil and Stumpo for killin’ our buses for four months, hurtin’ businesses like the Cobalt and sending a lot of people to the welfare lines. Fuckin’ eh… to whoever dumped the cow shit on George Puils front lawn!!! (Whoever did that, I’ll buy you a case of beer!) Fuckin’ eh… to SLAVES ON DOPE for showin up at the Cobalt for a surprise set before their Hulapulooza show niiice!! FUCK YOU… to GLOBAL TREE TECHNOLOGIES for takin’ away all the fun at and gear they didn’t own, not payin me and the rest of us hard workin’ hosts like ANI KYD and SHITHEAD. Fuck you… FuCk YoU…FUCK YOU…FUUUUCCKK YOOUUU!!!!! [I gave Brian a 10 fuck word limit this time. Because, well, I mean, come on, right? Last count was 18 fucks. Point made. Fuck that fuckin’ guy. Ed.] Fuckin’ eh… to the big Bobber for tryin their best to keep it goin at

That’s enuff for now, and remember mine and tha chief Liannes wedding is set for Helloween @ the Cobalt there will be some fuckin cool bands and shit happening so come on down, and bring gifts best costume is best man and best costume is maid of honour, watch for advertising on your local light post. Luv ya like a turnstile, Brian “WHO” Else

p.s. anybody who is ordained pleases show up at the Cobalt Oct. 31 2001 [Editor: I know what you are probably thinking, “who the hell would give this guy a column in their magazine?” I know, but for any of you who’ve had your ass groped and bag fondled by Brian Else, you already know the man needs all the help he can get.]



pic: Casey Bourque


“It’s 200 miles to Pemberton, we’ve got a full tank of gas, four cigarettes, 48 cans of beer, two bottles of whiskey, a block of cheddar, it’s hot as Hell and we’re wearing sunglasses. Hit it.” CZ, AK and NW were in the van. It was hella hot, due to the sun and fact the van was flat black. Friday. But going to Naughty Camp with high spirits in a surplus. Finally getting out of No Fun City for at least one weekend. Take the leashes off for three days and come home with asses dragging. Highway to Hell and all the friends will be there too. The stereo blasting “Back in Black,” the foreign NW checking out the scenery of Howe Sound for the first time; nothing could stop this YeeHaw Juggernaut. Except perhaps the Man. Sure enough…. Road block in Pemberton. Two clicks from destination. “Have you had any alcohol today?” the Man asked CZ, who was behind the wheel. “Nope.” It was the truth. Everything should have been cool. No one drunk or wanted, no reason to expect trouble of any kind. “Can I see y o u r license, please?” “Sure.” Mere formality. Onward to fun. “Are you Creepy Simon (middle) aware that y o u r w/ friends pic: Casey B. license is expired?” “Huh?” A complication.


“Yes, sir. It expired last year.” “Well, that sure is news to me. Y’see, I rarely drive, and therefore don’t think much about such things.” “Whatever. Who’s vehicle is this? May I see the registration?” AK passes it over, it being her vehicle. “May I see your license, ma’am?” the Man asks AK. “I don’t have one. That’s why he’s driving.” “You own this van, but you don’t have a driver’s license?” “Ummm… yeah.” Friends, I can tell you – this was the first time CZ had EVER been asked to “Step out of the car, please.” After that it was ascertained that NW was also licenseless. Three people, one van, no valid license. Two clicks from Naughty Camp. The Man was actually apologetic. “I don’t actually care about this sort of thing, we’re mainly concerned with impaired drivers. But, I have to deal with it.” “I understand.” “I’m going to have to impound this vehicle.” Two clicks. Derailed. Walking the rest of the way without all the stuff. Oh shit. CZ couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for this tragic turn of events. Miracles happen. At that moment, a Dodge Demon full of Rock Stars pulled up to the road block. Dirty Kurt behind the wheel, the Lovely Miss Lee beside him. AK: “Kuuuurrrrt! LEEEEE!” BOTH of them with valid driver’s licenses. “Officer, if Miss Lee drives the rest of the way and we three swear not to drive back, can we and the van go?” “Yeah, okay. But you still get this hundred and fifteen dollar fine, I keep your license and if you’re caught driving in the next thirty days there will be a big problem. For you.” “Thank you thank you thank you.” The Man can be merciful. We were on our way. Again. The next several hours, from the guys at the gate to everyone else, all CZ heard was: “Huh huh, heard you had some problems at the road block”. But they were In. There.

A perfect spot was reserved for our heroes right between Cowboy Bob and Cock Rock. NW pitched a tent, the hibachi fired up, tofu weenies burnt, things got readied. A blur…. CZ with Who Else in a headlock, throwing him around the front of the stage. Still not sure what happened to Merrick’s face. “Someone had sex with my wife!” “It was you, man.” “Oh. Okay.” “We lost one of our kegs in the river.” “Hey, check it out – I found a keg in the river.” “Wake up – we know you’re in there and we need booze.” “Beat it. Or suffer.” Blackened Jiffy Pop. Arms of jacket soaked to the elbows in spilt beer. LeBonk, wearing a giant hat made of beer cans covering his eyes and a lawn chair wrapped around his ankle running headlong across the field, wiping out himself and others. Getting up and running headlong again. Front flip off the stage. Two left unconscious. “Where’d you put my flashlight?” “I never had your damn flashlight.” “Hey, I found your flashlight.” Math: “If you bring your big black van and park it next to our big black van, there will be two big black vans here.” Cobalt rents an RV – the Mobalt. True to original, many are thrown out – some more than once. No grudges are held. Three days, forty bands and one destroyed hibachi later, CZ, AK and NW find a valid driver and head home. Legends and myths will be passed from generation to generation. None will forget the good times they blacked out and were told about later. Sure hope they do it again next year. Mike O pics: Ani Kyd

CAMP 2001 Snake Bite Juice and The Naughty Camp Tramp


t’s Saturday afternoon and we bust through security and roll across the grounds. It’s a beautiful day, there’s blue sky and punk rock blaring through the mountains. Crazy Sheila parks her truck at the far end of the field, where we find her friends sitting glumly at their campsite under an orange tarp. They tell us the night before they tackled the drummer from Death Sentence in a fit of rabid fandom and ruined their set. They’re 12 beers into their barrel and completely morose. Death Sentence is, like, their favorite band. The P.A. is so loud I can hear the band across the field. Crazy Sheila devises a brilliant contraption with plastic and rope for a shelter. I’ve got a bag of weed, six hits of acid, a bottle of champagne (?!) and a mickey of snake bite juice in my back pocket, plus a hook-up for the beer tent. Crazy Sheila doesn’t think we’re prepared and stays behind to stock up on our drug supply. Everywhere people are hanging out by their tents, or unloading gear. I head across the field for the stage, avoiding barking dogs, drunken Jaks, and cow pies along the way. Past security and into the beer tent. Within an hour I’m hammered and stagger near the stage to watch Betty Ford, who can be summed up in a single rock star word: Lettuce. I already have to crack the seal and coming out of the shitter, I reach in my back pocket to discover a horrible travesty: I have lost my snake bite juice. I harass the girl coming out of the poo bucket and sure enough, my nearly full bottle is sitting on top of the worst pile of sewage I have ever seen in the outdoors. I look at the bottle. I look at my hand. The girl looks at me. I walk away dejectedly. What kind of a useless punk rocker am I?

I drown my sorrows in beer and by the time Blem de la Blem comes on, I’m rawking and squawking. I wander around and meet up with my crew from the city. Crazy Sheila is cruising the field on some guy’s lowrider, making friends. I’m amazed to see people I never thought I’d recognize in daylight. Everyone is high and happy and when JP5 play, GerryJenn is wearing a frilly pink dress and it’s like the prom, Deliverance-style. Me and my friend hang out in strange cars with weirdos (our boyfriends). Then the acid kicks in and suddenly it’s dark. Hallowe’en Fright Machine play and I’m completely terrified. It all goes bad. BC/DC and the comforting sound of sweaty rock anthems make me feel better, but my back teeth begin to hurt. They feel like Brazil nuts. The fear comes back and I start freaking out. I’m choking on acorns! I wake up early in the back of Sheila’s truck, smelling like cowshit. I have no idea what happened and missed Ignorance Park. It’s tragic. Sheila has been up all night and is outside screaming at some guy, “I’m gonna rip your head off your skinny little neck and throw it in the bushes!” I congratulate myself on a funfilled blackout. The day starts with a good look in the outhouse and a few warm beers. Determined to see more bands I head up to the stage. The band playing is Crotchrot, who should change their name to Horribly Misguided. The two girls dirty dance with each other then sing a song about the pleasures of rape. Time runs out and they can’t finish the set. “But we still have our BEST SONG!” the singer screams. “YOU guys want us to play, don’t you?” she yells at the crowd. There’s about eight people by the stage who say nothing and some guy passed out face down in the dirt. Things pick up when the Ramores come out and turn on all the

vibe. One more hit and I would’ve thought it was really Joey Ramone. Leather pants on a hot summer day — I say fan-tastic! 911 play, these little punk rockers from Japan who are so cute and earnest I want to take them home and put them on my coffee table. The Joint Chiefs should get a bigger response, but it’s Sunday afternoon and the beer tent isn’t open. The crowd for them is way too small, same as Aging Youth Gang who are so good they make me dance on my blanket, waving my armsticks like Godzilla. The field empties but new people still show up. It’s a beautiful day and just the place for some Huskavarna death metal, then Lupus and their brand of speed. Crazy Sheila wants to leave but I make her stay for The Chafed, hoping they’ll play the Vagina Song. They throw out beer tickets to the crowd and the guy who passed out gets up and claws at the stage. “HEY BUDDY, there’s DIRT in your eye!” the guitarist yells. They finish their song and run for the beer tent, which is now open. Crazy Sheila has hooked up a French girl to drive because she’s too wasted. I tell her I don’t want to leave and coyly mention the champagne. “I can’t believe we’ll miss the Streetwalkin’ Cheetahs,” I say. We agree we are not Naughty Camp Champs. However, with three new “friends” Sheila is definitely a Naughty Camp Tramp. We’re sunburned, tired and happy, and slowly head back to the city. I stretch out in the back of the truck, smiling and smelling like cowshit; I’ve got my head full of music and a big belly full of sin. T. Dawg McWhirter pics: Ani Kyd (top pic) Heather Soon

continued next page...

Hemi Cuda pic: Casey Bourque




Last year I wrote about Naughty Camp for this here magazine, and it

was the most boring piece o’ shite I’ve ever penned! I

couldn’t share with potentially thousands of strangers that I was waaay too fucking fucked (vodka plus cocaine plus mushrooms), and managed to lose my puppet, camera, voice and mind. This year, I swore to take care of myself.…

I desperately needed outta the city so I was bursting with excitement. Imagine combining a breathtaking mountain setting with a bunch of kick ass bands. Friday night was mostly local bands, and I caught Victorian Pork, The Excessives, The Wet Ones & The Spitfires. I know a lot of money went towards sound, but damn it was worth it – I felt like I was at a fucking Metallica show or something, ‘cuz it was that good. At some point this fuckface started punching people, there was a scuffle backstage and security started using mace. This huge cloud of it wafted over the stage and crowd just as Hi-Test were ripping through their set. I watched in fascination as a bunch of people near the stage started puking. I almost lost my own lunch – total barf-o-rama! I think Death Sentence were last and they were killer. I never got a wink of sleep, so Saturday was kind of a blur. It was too hot to crash & the bands started around 1 p.m., so things got very loud. I continued drinking from the night before until about 8 p.m., when my body shut down. I passed out, sleeping straight through Three Years

Blem de la Blem

pic: Ani Kyd



Down, The Felchers, Ignorance Park, BC/DC & Dayglo Abortions. The only thing that woke me up was Power Clown, who frightened & impressed a lot of people that night. I staggered out of my tent, still wasted, to grab a beer and keep it going.


Sunday afternoon my buddies and I took a vacation from Naughty Camp to swim at a nearby lake. We returned clean, refreshed & ready for action! Good thing too ‘cuz we got ROCKED by The Load Levellers, Les Tabernacles (who toughed it out during a freak rainstorm that hit when they began and ended when they finished), Hemi-Cuda & The B-Movie Rats. Many campers had split ‘cuz they had to return to Monday morning reality, but this did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm of those still standing. My favorite rawk experience of the weekend was the Canadian premiere of the Streetwalkin’ Cheetahs. The small, but energetic crowd made them feel welcome back anytime. Appropriately enough, the Rock ‘n’ Roll Survivors ended it all, pummeling what was left of our brains. Woke up early the next morning, cleaned up, piled in the car and that was that. I had been looking forward to Naughty Camp all year and it completely surpassed my expectations. Beautiful scenery, wicked tunes, cool people from all over - what more could you want? It’s so important to support a festival like this,

especially when I hear so much bitching about the live music scene in Vancouver. If you missed out, start getting yourself mentally prepared ‘cuz if you wanna be a Naughty Champ, you’re gonna need all your poop! Casey Bourque all pics this page: Heather Soon


ays before the release of their debut album, Devil Rock Disco, Sho and Core took some time out for a little Cameron Crowe moment with The Nerve’s LEATHER TWATSON to discuss porn, punk, drugs, the devil, panty vending, Jar-Jar Binks and other topics most bands with a video about to air on MuchMusic would probably want to avoid. That’s why we like them. Leather Twatson = LT Sho = S Core = C Phil, Shocore’s guitar technician = P LT: This is such a GHAY question to ask… C: What’s your favourite colour? LT: [to Sho] What kind of conditioner do you use? [laughs] …As long as I’ve known you, you have looked like that. S: That’s what I’ve been talking about, Leather, I’ve kept my hair long all these years because my heyday was in the 80’s when I got laid the most…. LT: I don’t go out with guys whose hair is longer than mine. S: Ahh…well, I don’t like getting out-haired either. C: [laughs] S: Believe it or not — I use Life Brand…cheap-o. P: It’s the metal way. C: Sho’s a cougar magnet. Whenever we go out… he’s a fuckin’ cougar magnet. S: [laughs] Hey, we’re all going to be cougars real quick someday. We can make fun while we can, but…[laughs] LT: What I meant to ask was, I never like to define a band’s music or sound for them because I can say what I feel like it is, but that doesn’t really make sense to anybody…. S: I just call it “Devil Rock Disco.” It’s old-school rock with some, you know…there’s a lot of metal in us, but I don’t think we let it overtake us either. C: With some new-school flavour! We were less concerned about our friends and peers going “oh that’s really fucking cool” – we wanted people to listen to it and go, “fuck, that rocks! That’s fucking awesome. That rocks.” S: Even if you don’t like it, it still rocks [laughs]. C: You can’t deny the rockability of it. S: I’ve always felt that like, you know, dance and disco and trance and stuff, it’s all very similar in heaviness and the beat… and metal…like we just combined it all…we love all those kinds of music. C: Yeah. It’s like Gloria Gaynor being a groupie at a KISS show, and the Butthole Surfers opening. LT: I do notice a lot of arms above the International Gay Line, but they happen to be in the little devil’s head symbols…[laughs] Are you itching to get to Japan? Is that a big deal for you? S: I’m itching to go to Japan and sell a million records. [laughs] I think we’d do awesome in Japan. LT: Yeah. You’d be big in Japan, as my friend told me before I went there. S: If Dokken can have a 5 to 10 year extended career in Japan, that’s where I want to be. SC: [laughs] S: Oh yeah, there’s lots of good things about Japan… LT: Any shit you’ve heard about and you want to confirm, like the panties being sold in vending machines? Cause that’s true, baby, I’ve seen it! S: Is it? [laughs] I’m Japanese and I think they’re crazy. But in a good way. LT: …High school girls in Japan selling their underwear can make 10 bucks a pop, seriously. S: Really? C: Well, what do they do? The girls just grab a new pair of underwear, give it a wipe and send it off? S: Let’s start it here!

Shocore: (back row, L-R) Chon Chikara, Andy Simpson, Paul Floyd, Stevie Ericson, (front row, L-R) Nikki Prime, Core White, Terry ‘Sho’ Murray, pic: courtesy of Shocore Heather Robertson LT: Okay girls! Sign up! What’s the mailing address for Shocore? C: You could make a ton of dough. LT: Shocore Panty Vending. [laughs] The Nerve supports the fact that kink is part of normal, healthy people’s lives. We review porn regularly, you know. So we’re down with that definitely. S: Oh, there’s no shame in that. [laughs] You don’t lose points… [laughs] C: Yeah, you don’t lose points in our book. C: I think we should hang out more. S: Yeah [laughs]. C: Yeah, I think we should maybe…what are you doing later? S: It’s great. [Porn] is a great outlet for people, and the sooner it gets recognized that way…jeez. To a point. C: Yeah, and even in the worst sense, if it keeps crazy fuckin’

wackos off the street…wicked. LT: Well it’s probably better to make it mainstream. Do you think it’s the same way with other problems, like marijuana? S: Oh, yeah…of course. Marijuana is just ludicrous…their whole stance on marijuana is just ludicrous. I even think if someone is going to do cocaine or heroin, they’re going to do it, regardless…I don’t think someone goes and does heroin just because they smoked a joint or something like that. C: [sarcastically] Pot is a gateway drug, I’ll tell you. The song “Rudy” [the next single] was written about a crazy friend of ours who took a trip across the border…went with a bunch of dope and came back with a bunch of money. And when she got home — she was with somebody else, who was actually doing the

see Shocore on page 18 13

NUNSTALKER I remember the first time I saw the poster advertising a Nunstalker show. They were, of course, playing at The Cobalt. I asked around and a Cobalt regular told me, “Nunstalker - yeah, those priest dudes.” Whattaya mean? I asked. “They dress like priests and play kinda hard core punk.” It sounded good and evil. What the hell, I thought, I should probably check it out. It was an accurate description. Three clean cut, convincing looking gents dressed in frocks hopped up on the stage and began pounding out songs like, ’Drink Till You’re Drunk,’ ‘Cyanide Toothpaste’ and ‘Crack Pirates.’ Yes it was, and still is, pretty fucked up. I won’t mention what happened at the photo shoot on location at a church, but that poor old man….

A.D.: Across the table here we have….

Ian: Ian Higginbotham, guitar, vocals and Nunstalker by trade. Bill: Bill Featherston, drummer.

A.D.: Lets talk a bit about musical influences in Nunstalker. Not to categorize it per se, but what do you think about when writing?

“I was picking up homi- Jeff: I’ve tried to categorize but I really can’t cidal hit- itputbefore, a finger on it. chikers Bill: It’s got a little country just to tinge to it. A.D. MADGRAS: So, in the Nardwuar style of beginning an interview: Who are keep me Ian: I ended up getting sick you? of a lot of the poppier or poppy elements of awake.” overtly Jeff: No, you’ve got to be way more new school punk. Basically, whiney than that. A.D.: Jeff?

Alright, the formality question.

Jeff: Jeff Seeley, bass player. Bill: A/K/A. Max Power, A/K/A. Cockrock. His ego is so big he only hears the Rock, not the Cock part.


there is a fine line between having a song that is really melodic and not just cheesy. I find that if you make it as fast as the new school punk songs, I appreciate the speed, but I always try to write most of the stuff in a minor key and make the lyrics a little darker with a little more screaming, and more honest. A.D.: Your music is darker than a lot of punk and has a kind of melodic metal edge to it.

Ian: For sure. Bill: We’ve changed that a little bit mainly because of his guitar sound. It was a lot more twangy, you know, with the Livids, really scratchy, no bottom end to it. Ian got a new amplifier and worked with his sound to get it a little beefier. A.D.: It is definitely beefy. At the gig you guys played at the ANZA Club a couple weeks ago, when Jeff broke a bass string and you had some

dead time to kill, you broke into this fat blues riff to tie the audience over. You kind of gave away some of your hidden influence there. Ian: That’s generally what I fuck around with when I’ve been dew-chawed out of my brain. When every element of my life seems to have a punk rock beat. I like playing blues, you know, nice and simple. Bill: Jeff and I, when we took on this project, basically it was because we’d heard Ian in The Livids and what they did and we liked it. He’s

taken that a little further with us. Jeff: It’s hard because Ian is so much of the sound of The Livids, same guitar and voice, but I don’t think we sound like them at all. Ian: A lot of shit happened between The Livids disbanding and [Nunstalker] coming together… a lot of which had to do with all these bands that were on the same label or ran into each other in bars, basically re-organizing themselves or disbanding. As far as I am concerned, it’s pretty cool because we ended up being the three survivors of a certain element of what once was a bunch of gigs in Surrey, and a bunch of bands from Vancouver that had a lot of faith in what was happening in suburbia.

the truck started yet. So we took off to go to Calgary from Revelstoke and Jeff was stuck back there with the truck. He showed up and he was really pissed off. So then we play Calgary, go to Saskatchewan and we’re about to leave and do one full day drive back to Vancouver for Naughty Camp. Our meeting point was Drumheller. Jeff goes to Drumheller. We don’t turn, we drive past it. We realize we’ve gone past it. Then we go back, Jeff thinks we’ve left. Our next meeting point was Calgary and Jeff takes off to Vancouver. We’re at Ricky’s place in Calgary and Ricky’s like, “No, I haven’t seen Jeff.” Ian: At this point we’re almost out of money. And Jeff’s got all the band money.

might have a different reason.

Vancouver scene. The Cobalt, for example.

Jeff: I thought of the name. Basically I was on the bus one day and you know those cloak and dagger geeks who wear the black trench coats and are on the Internet all the time, and they have their handles? I was thinking wouldn’t the ultimate handle for one of those geeks be Nunstalker? Then I was like, yeah, Nunstalker would be a wicked name for a band. Then we kind of built on it from there and decided what Nunstalker should be and thought it would be kind of cool to all wear priest uniforms.

Bill: Jason and Wendy [Ed: promoters at The Cobalt] are awesome.

Ian: I’m more into it because it is generally anti-establishment against the biggest, oldest establishment of all time.

Jeff: They’re the people who you work with or the people you went to school with. They’re the people who you con them into going to the Cobalt and they end up having the best time of their lives.

A.D.: You guys have been together what, a year and a half?

A.D.: Anyone in your any of your families have a problem with what you are doing?

Jeff: Yeah, about that, 50 shows; a year and a half, that’s pretty good.

Ian: My grandparents are Catholic and they don’t know the name.

Bill: Jeff and his legwork. It’s also because we have different genres liking us here... with Jeff being from the Francophobes, new school, and me with Ziggy’s Fix… I like the combination of that. It’s not dirty punk.

Bill: But it’s not all about being against the church. We don’t sit there and preach about things. We just go and play our songs.

Jeff: Naw, it’s dirty! Ian: We try to keep it as tight as possible. Bill: We really care about production sounds. Ian: That’s the one thing I like about new school. A.D.: Gimme a road story or memorable rock star moment. Ian: We could tell the story of going to Calgary.

Bill: Yeah, he’s got all the band money, he’s off on a rampant 21-hour drive straight to

“I’m against the church. I hate the church. My parents have been telling me the church is evil since I was young.” Bill Featherston, Nunstalker

Bill: (confusion, arguing) No, wait! I can do this real quick. We went on a mini tour of western Canada. We had my truck, which the window had been broken out of the day before so we had to go without a window….

Vancouver. We don’t even know this and we’re leaving Calgary, hoping he’s alright. Ian and I are going on credit cards because we have no money. Then we see Jeff in Hope. Face pressed up against the windshield.

A.D.: What time of the year was this?

Jeff: I was picking up homicidal hitchhikers just to keep me awake.

Bill: This was in September. And we had Ian’s car. So, our furthest point was Saskatchewan, and the middle point was Calgary where we stopped off to see our friend Ricky. Jeff drove my truck, Ian and I were in the car. Then we’d switch off.

Ian: Jeff was in this bewildered, stoned state and all he kept saying [was], “That was a long drive, man, that was a long fuckin’ drive, man…. ” (all laugh) Listen, never go on tour with two vehicles.

Jeff: But you have to understand that being in the truck was the equivalent of being in hell. It had no window and you are going 120 on the freeway with no window, through the Rockies and it’s freezing, and there’s no stereo because it was stolen….

A.D.: So what’s with the priest get-up. Did the name come first or what?

Bill: So we go to Saskatchewan, and everything’s fine.

Bill: I think we all have our reasons for it. I’m against the church. I hate the church. My parents have been telling me the church is evil since I was young. Ian

Jeff: No! Everything was not fine. Bill: Wait, I’m talking about the last time. Jeff: O.K. Bill: We’d already lost Jeff once, going to Calgary. The truck starter was broken and we thought that he was leaving but he hadn’t got

A.D.: Your songs don’t deal heavily with religious material, but I think that a lot of people, when they see you – if they were raised religiously, but maybe they’ve forgotten about the symbolism – are put on edge by the visual.

Ian: Not only that, but it makes people think. Suddenly you have a bunch or priests who are playing punk, who are spitting and cursing, being offensive in general and have this outrageous name. And like you said, it’s a total schism of the brain because you are watching this thing that you normally associate with respectability and conservatism…. It’s a sign of the times that we can get away with it in this day and age, which is a comment in itself. A.D.: Yeah, 50 years ago you would probably have been stoned. But not in a good way. But enough. I want to talk to you about the

Jeff: The Cobalt is the pillar of what the whole punk scene revolves around here. Anybody that is involved in the punk scene in Vancouver has either been to The Cobalt, played The Cobalt or about to go to The Cobalt. Bill: There’s these people murmuring, ‘Oh, yeah, The Cobalt, whatever.”

Bill: Girls who look like they should be at Dick’s on Dicks and they go there once, and they’re sold. Another thing about the whole scene is that there’s just not enough places to play. The all-ages shows are sticking to the straight-edge bands, mostly…. Ian: What I find especially funny is the bands who used to play the Columbia, The Brickyard, are presumptuous right from the beginning. They assume, and they actually speak these words, that they don’t want to take that step down. They have some illusion of what it once was or some figment of their illusion of what it is when the really have no idea what goes on there or what kind of opportunity there is to have a good time. Personally, I feel those are the people who are missing out. It’s The Cobalt, fuck you. Bill: Wendy tells me that there are so many bands who won’t play there because they feel they won’t get the big shows like the Commodore, because [people will] look at that as being, “Oh, didn’t you play The Cobalt?” Ian: Yeah, like, “Didn’t you play The Cobalt last week?” Like it is something that will follow them around forever. I think Vancouver has been waiting for something like this to happen for a long time. The scene has been lost for awhile. A.D.: More about the music. What inspires you to write? What kinds of themes are reoccurring? Ian: Lately it’s been about Bill getting beat up. Bill: I get a little angry. I have a temper and stuff. And it’s about these unfortunate incidents that happen to me, like being hit in the head by a bottle at The Dayglos show (at The Cobalt) and getting 18 stitches. A.D.: Did you get cold-cocked or what? Bill: Yeah, it was after The Dayglos had finished playing and some guy just hit me with the bottom of the bottle. And we wrote a song called, ’Who’s That Guy’ – that hit me in the head, you know. A.D.: What’s next for Nunstalker? What’s the plan? Jeff: We’ll be going into the studio in September with Brian Else to do the new full length CD and shop it around to labels. I imagine we’ll get our CD out this winter and then do a tour next summer. Nunstalker’s songs are available on their website and you can harass them at nunstalker@hotmail. com. A.D. MADGRAS all pics: Bradley C. Damsgaard


Freight Train Land A Hip Hop Opera

presented by East Side Eternity The Cavern, Vancouver July 5-8 2001*

“…A rap opera, and we are not from Ghetto Lake / But we have escaped the grasp of the corporate handshake…” (C.R. Avery, introduction to Freight Train Land) It’s ambitious enough when amateur performers attempt to create a play about some of the darker issues dogging Vancouver’s East side, but when they decide to do it as a hip hop opera…well, some things you just gotta see. I am now quite convinced that the creator, C. R. Avery, is a post-modern beatnik savant here on a secret mission, though what that is, I haven’t yet figured out. These days, not everyone can pull off the po-mo beatnik thing with such aplomb, but somehow, with appealing sincerity, he manages. The loosely linked scenes have been written by Avery for a talented cast of multiple role-playing locals, most of whom are musicians, MCs or singers, many of whom have never worked in theatre before. A very wise decision was made to fill the down time during set and costume changes with two breakdancing b-boys (Brian and Owen), who twist, lock and spin with energy, flexibility and terrific wit and charm (and deodorant at the ready). The stage was graphically dynamic with backdrops featuring wild-style graffiti and comic book colours, created by Brad Shaw and Jim Hoehnle, and lighting design was by the Cavern’s Terry Sidhu. Over the three nights that I attended, the script/


libretto was still undergoing minor revisions, The highlight of the show comes after and each night felt like one of those wicked the short intermission when the broadcaster experiments your favourite psycho science (Garinther) brings out Xena Z (Amalia teacher used to do before schools cracked down Townsend) with the weather. Years of jazz vocal on explosives in the classroom. Multimedia training are obvious in a voice that would make visuals by Merlin caused all kinds of mesmeriz- Aretha proud, and the raw power and emotion ing effects to come through the TVs stacked on with which this funk princess sings was one side of the stage, and the accompanying mind-blowing night after night. The material music by Michael Louw, Noah Walker, Mike here is so beautifully written and expressively Wilson and C.R. Avery ranged from simple interpreted that this was hands-down my favoubeatboxing to trip hop to blues rite part of the producharmonica, all floating almost tion each of the three seamlessly between the scenes nights I saw it. The and the language. other performers rap T. Paul Ste. Marie as and freestyle with the Holy Beat Janitor is the seeming effortlessshow’s narrator and serves as ness, but when she the thread of continuity. He starts to sing, all eyes takes us to various locations are on Townsend as including a garage (complete Xena Z, as she Amalia Townsend as Xena Z with the chassis of a real car) reminds us we “don’t where Raoul, the garage owner, (Darcie D.) is need a weatherman to tell us which way the butting heads with his surly mechanic, Joe wind blows”. After this scene, the audience (Glenn Garinther). In the next scene we are went wild every night… her appearances in the introduced to the Mayor of Freight Train Land, show are brief, but she knows how to wreck Miss Loretta (Monica Lee) who is joined by her shop. She fucking blew me away. b-girl, Betty Real (Sarah Cadeau a/k/a MC By the end of the show, we go back to Shankhini). The two of them “talk revolution the garage where the “story” somehow doveover electronic beats” and the writing here is tails into one about a group of performers all deliciously razor-sharp and deliberately inflam- trying to get to their show on time. The entire matory…as it should be for any character cast takes to the stage at the end for a show of referred to as “the white Malcolm X”. Later on, freestyle rap and vocal skills from Lee (and her great lines come from characters like Dr. D. viola, which works surprisingly well as a back(portrayed again by Darcie D.) who tells us up), Shankhini, Garinther, Darcie D., Amalia “man’s on a blind bender / Reading the (who claims not to know how to rap or freestyle, WestEnder,” and the “Channel 7 News” sports- but then, not surprisingly, astounds everyone yet caster, (played by MC Shankhini) who finishes again), and finally the man behind the sounds her speech with the instant classic “she smiles, and words, C.R. Avery. Guest freestylers includthen horks / and that’s the sports”. ed friends of Avery’s offering rhymes in tribute

to him and last year’s national slam poetry champ Shane Koyczan. The whole thing ends with a serious and soulful candlelit sing-a-long to a song from Avery’s album of the same name, called “Flee By Night,” about all the different kinds of exiles in the world today. If the new run of shows at the Western Front go well, there is talk that East Side Eternity may take Freight Train Land on a national tour. See it while you can, before some of these people become justifiably famous. C.R. Avery is going to keep envisioning and throwing down some artistically ballsy shit, whether reviewers get it or not, which is a very cool thing, especially given that he’s only in his mid-twenties. Like I said, some things, you just gotta see. Step up for local hip hop and urban culture in the freshest form, and support your local po-mo beatnik. *The Western Front Theatre and East Side Eternity present Freight Train Land – A Hip Hop Opera at the Western Front Theatre — 303 East 8th Avenue, Vancouver Wednesday through Friday, Sept. 19 - 21 at 8 PM. Tickets are $10 ($8 for Western Front members) Tickets available now. 604-876-9343 On-line webcast Wednesday, September 19 at http:// Freight Train Land maintains a website at the following URL: Leather Twatson pic by Kagan Goh and his crew

Spinning the Revolution

This was followed by some equally boring speech by the ”under construction” Transit Riders Union leader, who managed to categorise transit users in the same way as Cates Park, Deep Cove George Puil: as losers. Fuck all this. Why not Aug 19, 2001 empower people who use transit by depicting them as wise in making a choice for a cleaner future? As winners, rather than losers? Until Under the Volcano’s the Transit Riders Union quits begging for pity big plus has always by making ”loser cruiser” speeches, I’ll keep been that no matter driving my beat up Chevy. who’s performing or Next was a long, long, long break who’s there, it has while we waited for Swollen Members to feel nothing of that cattle-like crowd feeling – even if this year, the like playing. By then, the crowd was very main stage area was fenced in and gated, and dense and seemed ready to go. The North the RCMP had a stronger presence. The vibe is Vancouver hip hop duo, Mad Child and Prevail, always good, unlike many ”corporate” music kicked in with an excellent and lively set of fests; this is a comfy place to be. We arrived at tunes, but the crowd (which, I repeat, sucked) the gate, paid our very affordable cover charge was merely nodding. Then came the CFOX hit (Five to 20 dollars, depending on how rich you and a few more people (I repeat again, the feel), settled our little territory with blanket, crowd sucked) started moving their little toes. food and all, and waited for Swarm to set up. The set was very short, but just as everybody Lots of people were already in the main stage thought the Members had gone home (the area. Swarm is a six-piece, all percussion group crowd didn’t object, the crowd sucked) the Swarm at Under the Volcano words ”do you want more” pic: Atomick Pete came out of the P.A. – some people woke up, screamed, and Swollen Members came on for a three-song encore. Next came Kuttin Kandi, a girl DJ from New York who spun really good, warm, old school hip hop. And by some magical way, she managed to get a bigger chunk of the boring crowd dancing. After a good and somewhat burlesque performance by East Vancouver’s that makes drums and instruments partly out of Cirque de Toilet, it was night and it was time scrapyard stuff. They’re reminiscent of Test for some fire. The crowd had to move back Dept, minus the bagpipe and plus more tradi- from the stage and the big space in front of it to tional tribal instruments. They put on a really make room for the Nucleous Dance Collective. impressive show, spinning their huge wheeled Unlike the past years, when Capitalist effigies drums around while dancing. The only down- were burned, this year it was a pure circus of side was that after 40 minutes of this, some almost perfectly done fire art performance with fire breathing, fire juggling and dancing. melody would have been cool. From there we moved to the water- Unfortunately, the crowd sucked as there were front stage, where Sylo were already playing. people behind us asking us to sit down although The Denman Island five-piece played a few this was a celebration. They eventually got up, long, trippy, moody jam-like songs involving as we never sat down. Overall, for the twelfth year in a row, very minimalist drumming and a focus on guitar reverb and feedback. The last couple of another typically great day at Under the songs were faster and were pretty intense. I Volcano. liked the singer’s introspective, and at the same time strong, stage presence. The inspiration is Atomick Pete definitely there and with a lot more practice and experience, they could open for Tool. We went back to the main stage, hoping to catch L.A.’s indigenous tribal political punk band, Subsistencia. But for an unknown Friday July 27th reason, the program had changed. Instead, we The Starfish Room, Vancouver were treated to Red Hip Hop featuring Tribal Wizdom, a strongly political Native group of On a dark rainy Vancouver night, I was given MCs and DJs from Vancouver. the blessing of witnessing the Gods of Grunge, They didn’t take it easy on the cops present at Mudhoney. Of course, like any other so-called the site (for the first time this year, the RCMP music critic, I showed up late, only catching decided to overpolice UTV), yelling “fuck the last half of the Evaporators set. Nardwuar cops” and encouraging the audience to repeat and his crue had the place jumping, or at least – but with limited success, because the audi- the lake of people at the front of the stage were ence this year sucked (more on this later). jumping. If you’ve ever been to an Evaporators They put on a great show, interacting on stage show, you already know that audience particiand even teasing each other with one guy rap- pation is a must. If Nardwuar wasn’t making ping on another guy’s all mouth-made beats people hold hands and run in a circle, then he and trying to fool each other by improvising, was crowd surfing with his organ. I think the changing the beat, accelerating and slowing crowd up front worked just as hard as the band down. These guys are rightfully pissed off on stage, thanks to Nardwuar. Playing all the Indians and they get it out in a wonderful way. hits like ‘I’m going to France’ and ‘Hump the Then there was the leader of the Dog’ plus new ones like ‘Honk the horn’ and commie party for a speech – that’s when we ‘Tell me who my friends are’ off their new 7” cracked our unlabelled two-litre cider and hit inch. This band is a must see. the beach to smoke some BC Gold…. After a half hour change over, the

Gods of Grunge took to the stage. I used to own every Mudhoney record till some cracked out junkie ripped me off. Anyway, experiencing a band like this at full volume is worth it. You get the super fuzz guitar sound with torn down vocals. For a band that’s been around the block and survived the scene that Seattle once was, they kicked some ass. They’d wind you up and bring you back down song after song. They took a discography of fifteen years through an hour and twenty minute set with a 4 song encore. From ‘Touch me I’m sick’ to ‘Let it slide’ and ‘Look who’s driving’. All and all, Mudhoney showed Vancouver that they can still rock as hard as all this other so called shit that is played on the radio. Thank you Mark Arm. Dave Crusty

The Smalls The Real Ones

Richard’s on Richards, Vancouver Aug 23, 2001 The farewell concert by The Smalls began when The Real Ones took to the stage and trotted out they’re celtic/modern rock schtick. I thought that Canadians would be a little shellshocked from the Ashley MacIssac’s and Great Big Sea’s they get rammed down they’re throats, but everybody except me and my friend went fairly ape shit. When The Smalls hit the stage, it was clear that this was their night. The 10 years plus of touring really showed as this is a crack band. The guitar and bass were tight as shit and the drummer cut some of the best double-kick drumming since South of Heaven era Slayer.

The singer was a little low in the mix, but it was still alright. In fact, most of the crowd seemed to know (and sing along with) all the lyrics to all the songs anyway. Covers of ‘You make me feel like a natural woman’ and ‘Middle of the road’ (by the Pretenders) went off to a great crowd response. I had to take off at 1a.m. to catch the train, but The Smalls were still going strong, playing to an adoring, shirtless and beer sweating crowd. Nice to see a Canadian indie band get this kind of response, even if it is their last tour. addict

Nicely Nicely Sam

Piccadilly Pub, Vancouver Aug 21, 2001 This lightly attended Tuesday night show was a study in polar opposites. Opening band Sam seemed to have the uncanny knack to distil all that you hate about corporate rock radio into a 40 minute set. With vocals sounding alternately like Bare Naked Ladies and Creed, the only thing that redeemed them from being downright painful was some competent guitar work. Nicely Nicely had great songs, played well and I doubt if there was anyone in the room who wasn’t impressed. Clad in black suits with a self-effacing attitude, they took the stripped down three-piece unit to some interesting places. Deadly dynamics and key changes framing the incredibly catchy songs. I was reminded of Duotang or maybe the Beatles. Keep your eyes (and ears) on Nicely Nicely. They rock. addict

Mudhoney The Evaporators


...Shocore from page 13 thing…she was just a ride-along – and when she got back, because she was looking at suitcases full of money for the last couple of days when she got back, she was like throwing money around…so she took a bunch of friends of ours out for dinner and just was like “sky’s the limit”, and, you know, she was all high on the money. LT: A friend who was at the video shoot made a good observation about you guys. He said “they’re too happy to be an evil band”… S: [laughs] C: We’re not evil. S: We’re not evil, we’re rock evil! C: We’re fun evil! S: Yeah. LT: The good kind of evil. C: We are! We’re down with the devil, but it’s all good. He’s our buddy, he likes to party with us. Plus, it’s just so in fun and in campy jest, you know? S: Well, I think it’s the same as if I had an acting job and I played a psycho killer or something. I would hope people wouldn’t think that of me… that that’s what I am in real life. If I go on stage and have fun, or maybe swear or have a naked girl beside me…not even naked. S: They want to take their clothes off more than we want them to. We have to tell them, “no, no”. LT: [laughs] SC: It’s true. S: They would take their tops off probably every song. We don’t tell them…we just ask… C: 100%. LT: Well, it’s important to know that, because certainly in a lot of hip-hop and rap videos and that kind of thing especially, it’s there for the sake of being there. S: Yeah. The thing with them has always been that I wanted their talent as dancers to come through moreso than their looks. They’re sexy


girls, of course, but… C: And I like the whipped cream and the chocolate sauce. S: I think people get the wrong ideas. LT: In our cover interview with All You Can Eat [The Nerve Sex Issue, May/June 2001] they said they find after their shows a lot of the chicks are out there on the dance floor and they want to be all “pro” and stuff, and so they’re imitating them… And I think that’s more the issue that they activate in women. And it seems to me that Nikki and Heather have a ton of creative input into what they are doing. S: It’s crazy, I don’t know why…and the girls are actually up there doing an awesome routine. LT: Oh, yeah! They’re all totally trained. S: It’s not like they’re Mötley Crüe stripper dancers on the side of the stage. C: …Huggin’ the pole. I should get a pole. That’s what I should get. SC: [laughs] C: Yeah. There’s been some negative comments about it on the website…people who thought, you know, at least bring it up for discussion…maybe the nudity and stuff like that is not appropriate for a rock show… and I was like, “well it’s a ROCK show!” S: [laughs] C: “What part of fucking ‘rock show’ don’t you get?” But yeah, I don’t know… like I said before, I’m not going to cross my own lines, but I think that’s well in the realm of OK and campy, cool fun. LT: [to Core] Your son Kyle is how old now? C: Seven. LT: And [daughter] Autumn is? C: Two and a half. LT: [to Sho] And Natsuko is three? Four? Five?

S: School this year. LT: You guys are both fathers…the whole “family values” bullshit…it’s kind of eye-rolling the way they use that in the States. Everything has to pass that test…it has to support “family values”. What would you say are Shocore’s “family values”? [laughs] Because I think they’re a little bit more – C: Liberal? LT: — inclusive. [laughs] C: Well, both of our kids have seen the shows, a number of times. S: I’m a little more conscious of it than he is [points to Core], or more worried about it, I should say. I wouldn’t want someone to bring their kids to our show and be super offended — C: I say expose ‘em. S: — like we did them wrong. But I don’t think we do anything that would hurt kids [laughs], you know. C: I mean, granted, sometimes they’re too young to get the joke of the whole thing, sometimes…the campiness of it, but, on the other hand, I think, better exposed by us, where they can see that it’s okay, we’re okay after we get off stage, we’re still Dad and it’s okay. So now they’re going to grow up and see shows and be able to go “OK, it’s just a fucking show”. We’re just playing. This is fun time. And if they get that, then that’s cool. I want my kids to be able to know that that’s what that is. S: It’s rock. C: Yeah. It’s fuckin’ rock and roll. It’s a show. And for people to get all offended by it…well, they haven’t exposed their kids to enough, or they don’t give their kids credit for being smart enough, because I think most kids are fucking smart enough. S: If my daughter sees Nikki or Heather doing

[Nikki and Heather] want to take their clothes off more than we want them to. We have to tell them, “no, no”.

that, I don’t feel that it’s going to cost 2 years of therapy to fix it. LT: It’s not like you’re making her into a little JonBenet. C: And that’s the thing…when those girls come off stage, they hang out with our kids and go, “hey, it’s Auntie Nikki and Auntie Heather” and that’s just the way it is. It’s no big deal – they don’t think of it any crazy way…it’s like, there they are on stage and they took their shirts off, big fucking deal. I walk around the house naked all the time, who cares. [laughs] S: If you’ve ever met our kids, you know they’re not troubled kids at all. C: They’re very normal. S: I think people just overreact sometimes. LT: Are you computer geeks? S: I am. E-mail and audio software… that’s what it’s all about. LT: How many times have you seen Star Wars? C: Oh, my God. I don’t know, I’d say upwards of…I don’t know…upwards of 30. S: [indicates himself] More than that. C: Oh yeah. He sleeps to it… that’s his ‘happy place.’ LT: Here’s my theory about Jar-Jar Binks… he was created only to be destroyed. He is going to be destroyed mercilessly in the second, darker movie. S: It’ll probably be at the hands of Ani. C: Ani! When Ani turns dark. His first evil act or something, he offs Jar-Jar. LT: Some people would argue that that’s not an evil act. S: Yeah. LT: Is it okay to be a geek and still be a rock star? S: Fuck, yeah. A longer version of this interview and exclusive photos from the “Bonecracker” video shoot can be found at www.thenerveonline. com Leather Twatson

Beer Zone s/w Argy Bargy

Heros of the 3rd Half DSS records

Both of these bands have paved their own path and made their mark. Beer Zone, with their raw street punk sound and Argy Bargy, with their tried and true working class anthems, truly go hand in hand. To date, I don’t think a better split e.p. is to be found. I also recommend Beer Zone’s latest release “Strangle all boy band’s” and Argy Bargy’s classic “Drink, Drugs and Football thugs”. A great edition to anyone’s record collection. Available at DSS Records P.O. Box 739 4021 Linz, Austria. Sonya


The Hidden World Vik Recordings Vancouver’s own Copyright re-emerge after a several-year absence continuing an odd history that’s seen them oscillate between being the next big thing and virtual unknowns. The Hidden World is an ambitious work displaying a high level of songwriting in standard rock-combo form. From the Pixies-tinged melody of “Mother Nature” to the brief orchestral build “Theme,” Copyright show themselves to be comfortable dancing between styles but take a measured approach favouring craftsmanship over innovation. They stack the more dramatic songs toward the end of the album, letting vocalist Tom Anselmi really stretch it out over plodding piano. Paul Crowley


Who Killed Vinyl 7” Hostage Records “Hiding from the shadows in the middle of the night / running from police and helicopter lights / I’m sweating bullets look at my face / running for my life/ they wanna put me in a cage”. This is the opening line from Fugitive, the song that begins this hard-hitting release from these Californians. Containing all the elements of a good punk song, with solid, tight drumming, steady guitar rhythms, confident sounding vocals and a chorus that states “Can’t catch me I’m a fugitive / I won’t give up until I’m dead”! The next track is the title track and is a faster paced rock’n’rollish number. Lyrically, this track speaks about the superiority of a vinyl record over the compact disc. On the flip, we’re given a slower melodic number called Good Enough, not the best song here, but gives me all the more reason to listen to side A again. Aaronoid

Corporate Avenger

Freedom is a State of Mind Koch Records “Finest comedy album of the year.” This is what I thought, until I read the press sheet. Then I realised they were serious. They were earnest. Industriopunko-lefto-anarchisto- I don’t know the hip dialogue. It wasn’t musically that bad. Mindlessly repetitive, but what isn’t these days?The lyrics brought the dreadnought of heaviness down crashing. They were the most inept Lefto-anachtro-punko whatever nonsense I’ve ever heard. Essentially a pure-blooded clone of Rage Against The Fucking Machine. Actual quote: “The Bible is bullshit/the Qu’ran is a lie/. The Bahaghava- Gita did not fall out of the sky.” Finally someone is giving it to the Hindu’s. “Taxes Are Stealing” was complete crap, while “Jesus Christ Homosexual” was nowhere nearly as much disturbing fun as I had hoped. The enclosing hype sheet shows they know what’s cool these days: pre-planned professionalism. Get it today, because all the kids are sure to be into it. The kids and the sub-normals. Jason Ainsworth

E X - G i r l Back to the Mono Kero! Ipecac Records

While most researchers waste time delving deep into the science of extra-terrestrial existence, they need look no further than planet Kero! The tiny pink planet occupied by three female Japanese artists known as eX-Girl spin kickass casio-techno-pop-punk-a-rolla like no trio on earth. Supported by the mothership at KiKi Poo

Records in Japan, eX-Girl are nothing short of mass mania in all of its’ best forms. Kirilo, Chihiro and Fuzuki waste no time on their latest invasion deemed Back To The Mono Kero! The three-piece mix scream-sequence riot girl, operatic and bubble gum pop vocals with the electricity of pounding guitar, bass and drums to create a master-piece-like music riddle. Boasting crazy on-stage antics and handstitched wacky costumes, crowds around the world are warming quickly to these freaky alienettes. If you are into a Need-esque chaotic feel to your musical mix, this eX-Girl release will definitely suit your fancy. It’s catchy and will hold your attention with its’ witty weirdness. This album may be as close to out of this world as we humans can get. Tara MacDonald


Headfirst Straight to Hell Victory Records Whenever Grade played a show, even in the days prior to their deal with Victory Records, it always seemed as if the only reason these guys were making music was to get laid. But while I’ve never been impressed with Grade’s boy-band image, I love their sound - large and slick, with melodic singing followed by brutal screams and bright chords followed by palm-muted chugging. It successfully fuses all that is good about emo and straight-edge metal hardcore. This record starts out as standard-issue Grade, slightly closer to Separate the Magnets than their last album, Under the Radar. As the album progresses, the sound changes - more guitar effects and more arty flourishes lead up to a final 15-minute track composed almost entirely of scary sounds. I can’t comment on the lyrics, as a lyric sheet was not provided, but this is probably a good thing if they are like anything on previous releases. If you listen to bands like Hot Water Music, you will probably appreciate this album. garyBusey

Knockout In the 5th Round. Compilation Knockout Records.

Germany’s Knockout Records have an untarnished reputation for putting out international quality Street Rock and with this sampler, that fact is proven once again. On this latest edition, were given stuff from England, Germany, France, Sweden, The Netherlands, Japan, Norway and the good old U.S. of A. No Canadian bands are featured this time around. Three tracks are featured by those New Jersey Oi! Vets known as The Wretched Ones, some stuff from a band from Germany called The Oiters who sound pretty mean, with songs by Radio 69 and Vanilla Muffins standing out as well. Emsherkurve 77 do an interesting cover of Dirty Old Town by The Pogues sung in German. The majority of this material fits well into the Oi!/Street Punk genre, however, there is a bit of Psycho-billy and Ska thrown in for good measure. Aaronoid

Mixmaster Mike Spin Psycle Moonshine Music

Def, phat, fresh, fly, sick, and just plain dope, the first DJ-mixed CD by the Beastie Boys’ fave waxman features chunky beats, ace scratchwork and slick-ass flow from a sweet array (like a bakery display) of guest hip-hoppers like KRS-One, whose booming “Get Yourself Up” is one of the disc’s best hardcore anthems (featuring the mantra “rap is something you do, hip hop is something you live”). El The Sensei, Large Professor and the Porn Theatre Ushers are among the other artists contributing to the illness, and the Grand Royal princes themselves step up for the boss final track, “3 MCs and One DJ”. With 22 songs seamlessly blending into each other, there are still plenty of standout contributions like “Solar Powered” by Binary Star (gotta love any mofo who self-identifies as a ‘rap Hezbollah’), “Strong Island” by JVC Force and “Positive Contact” by Deltron 3030. You might think a CD like this belongs only in your pimped out low-rider, cruisin’ Robson on a Saturday night, but believe me when I tell you it is AWESOME background music for humping.

Millions of Dead Cops

Leather Twatson

Now More Than Ever Beer City records

For over 20 years now, MDC has told it how it is and now, finally, they have delivered Millions of Dead Cops Now More Than Ever. A long awaited anthology of one of the best hardcore American punk bands ever. With some of their best songs taken from all their albums compiled into one neatly packaged audio assault that will leave you withering and begging for more. This anthology includes ‘John Wayne was a Nazi’, ‘Dead Cops’, ‘Henrykissmyassenger’, ‘Corporate Death Burger’, ‘My Family’s Just a Little Weird’ and many more. You will not find this on EMI or Epitaph, since this is a real punk band that has never deviated from it’s roots to turn a profit. You will find it only on Beer City Records. Sonya

Shot Spots: Trooper Tribute Visionary Records

When I first heard about this compilation I thought, “why would someone want to do this?” And out of all the Canadian bands to do it too. Sure, Trooper are one of the so called ‘top’ bands in Canada (of all time), but so are Rush, Triumph, Loverboy, and the Guess Who. Anyway, even if it is Trooper, at least the songs were done in a new format. All Trooper covered by an all Punk roster (well mostly). Not like that Neil Young tribute double cd compilation by different bands that all sound like Neil Young with different vocals. I’ll admit I’ve never been a Trooper fan, but to hear the songs played as they are on this record is actually refreshing. Thanks to the rules of Cancon, radio stations have never gone a day without playing Trooper. “Santa Maria” by Lummox, “We’re here for a good time” by SNFU, “Live from the moon” by Huskavarna, “Go ahead and sue me” by Dayglo Abortions, “Good clean fun” by the Ripcordz and “Volunteer victim” by the Chick Magnets all stand out. Other good covers by Aging Youth Gang, DOA, the Sweaters, Dirty Bird and Facepuller. If you have a nurturing mullet or a combover Mohawk, this ones for you. D.C.

Stabbing Westward s/t Koch Records

The first thing I noticed about this swanky looking Stabbing Westward disc is that they haven’t included any lyrics on the inside jacket. Why you ask? Could be the life size photos of every band member hogging what little bragging space available between the small cardboard cut. Or maybe, they just don’t want us to know what’s going on in the in-depth, reclusive mind of Stabbing Westward. But all is not lost. A quick glance at the band’s website at reveals the hidden song lines for any of you dire fans who wish to sing along. Either way, the photos are well done peep-hole style – hinting at a big money push behind this record? This 2001 Koch Records release is the 4th album for the Stabbing Westward gang. A ten-yearold unit and ex-Columbia/Sony Records offspring, these guys carry the somewhat typical CFOX swallowed noise of new rock. Their latest self-titled album is tight and clean sounding right from the get go – signaling some good direction and well-tuned guitars. Produced by Ed Buller (Suede, Crystal Method) and mixed by Tom Lord-Alge (Wallflowers, Hole) hints that this four-piece most likely got to play around with some half-decent recording gear. The result is one smooth and easily digestible pack of tunes. (and I stress the feeding part of the digestion process.) Tara MacDonald

The Head Hunters Eat This Dickhead Dim Records

If you get a chance to listen to this album, I’m sure you’ll be impressed. Though the undercurrent of their influences are strong, they seem to be able to bring forth a sound all their own. This is truly a great OI album but, unfortunately, not everyone will be able to know how truly great it is because this German import was limited to a pressing of 500 copies. So get it while you still can at ... Sonya

The Partisans

So Neat 7” TKO Records. Hailing from South Wales UK, The Partisans were know for their song Police Story, on The Burning

Ambitions of Punk and Punk and Disorderly, two essential and groundbreaking compilations that came out in the early 80’s. The group then went on to release two eps and a full length on England’s No Future Records. All were in their teens at the time, hence another song called 17 years of hell. A later release showed the band progressing into a more melodic Clash like vein before fading away like most bands that were around in the second wave of British Punk. Now reformed with two original members, they give us two brand new songs. The title track contains a riff very reminiscent of Borstal Breakout by Sham 69, with the song remaining snarly but with a melodic edge. On the flip we get Classified info, which is basically more of the same. Aaronoid


3 Victory Records I’m still not sure if this album is completely serious. It might be an elaborate joke, in which case Thumb are an incredibly talented troupe of comedians. If, on the other hand, we’re meant to take “3” seriously, they are the most incredibly evil Germans since YOU KNOW WHO. Someone at Victory records has the idea that you can take any shitty kind of music, make the lyrics all emo/political and call it acceptable. In this case, it’s nu-metal à la Limp Bizkit and it’s really bad. They sing in English rather than German, to enlighten us with lyrical gems like “this world is crazy... don’t you see it’s true?” I wish all the white people with loud guitars, and Thumb specifically, would realize there’s something more to hip-hop than just rhyming your words in a pattern (such as, for example, doing it well and not like Debbie Harry on old Blondie records). Paul Crowley

Waltz Darling

Thanks for Nothing I n d e p e n d e n t The most important thing that I have learned in my handful of years of music appreciation is that something that is fun for one person may not be fun for another. This doesn’t make what they happen to be doing bad or wrong – it’s just people doing what they love to do. The smattering of music junkies who make up local pop-outfit Waltz Darling are making music, playing, recording and plain having fun. This is a point of complete coolness and should not go over-looked as sometimes even the business of music can drag its participants and listeners down. Thanks for Nothing is an independent 2001 release made up of 11 up-beat, peppy, lick laden songs. Lead man Atila Breti’s vocals resemble that of the psychadelia found in a B-52-esque mixing pot although he does lend a certain original swing to the band’s own melodies. A host of friends help Waltz Darling through their musical rainbow ride including female backing vocals on two tracks, a lap steel player and some conga. This is the kind of ear-friendly recording that might suit a thirty-something crowd quite well. You won’t find these guys sharing any bills with other harder edged locals any time soon, but I wouldn’t count them out of Vancouver’s eclectic musical mix. Tara MacDonald

The Wednesday Night Heroes Self titled Longshot Music

Young and fresh street punk coming straight out of Edmonton Alberta. These kids play it fast, hard and loud, singing about working dead-end jobs and unity. Highly recommended to those into East-coast charged punk. Aaronoid.




henever we’re inflicted with the redundancy of an American crime film (post 1979 of course) it helps me to sit back and watch a good ol’ Italian “crime” film to take the edge off. I feel like I’m home again when the scenarios are inadvertently over the top, the violence is to original extremes, and the T & A is that much more exploitive. In the pop culture of today, where everything is spoon fed to our culture (I’ve noticed that most big city people have a sense that they’ve seen it all, whereas they have seen nothing under the tip of the iceberg since they think that the “big city” supplies them everything); the European seventies genre film is vastly ignored for the likes of Tarantino, etc... Quentin himself has even admitted that all his films are straight nods to the Italian crime film genre - with even some footage of Helmut Berger smacking around Marisa Mell on a TV in the background in one of the scenes during Jackie Brown (Sergio Grieco’s MAD DOG MURDERER). Anyways, to get to the point - Italian crime films kick ass. The genre greats have solidified more car chase, fight, smart mouth, plot twist, and motorbike action rules for the screen than any other genre out of Italy. The actors are all top notch, as they are all still cult heroes world wide from their over the top, violent, and scheming performances (some performances pushing the boundaries more than others of course). Names such as Henry Silva, Maurizio Merli, Tomas Milian, and Franco Nero (to name a few) have given the genre that extra kick in the pants with their seemingly never ending energy and hard knock spirit. Even with the film culture so different than ours (grabbing tits in public is alright(?), we can have fun spotting the recurring actors and their roles throughout a lot of the films. All of the above mentioned stars have an average of about 20 crime films under their belts. Tomas Milian for instance, has gone so far as to play a ruthless murderer/bank

robber - to the favorite character of the one and only “Nico Giraldi” (the motorbike riding, smart mouth, womanizing cop that likes to sport bell bottoms with HUGE scarves, rainbow toques, and sneakers). The directors of the crime films are all standouts as well - all well known in their other genre fields. Umberto Lenzi did many crime films during the early to mid 70’s, such as VIOLENT NAPLES, ALMOST HUMAN ( a personal fave), FREE HAND FOR A TOUGH COP, MANHUNT IN THE CITY (with the unbelievable Henry Silva), etc... He went on to direct the most brutal of Cannibal Films such as the infamous MAKE THEM DIE SLOWLY. Enzo Castellari had his hand in the genre, one of his best being the incomparable HIGH CRIME with the internationally well known Franco Nero playing the no bullshit cop that fights first, asks questions later. In my opinion (and many others) the almighty master of the crime film was Fernando di Leo. His examples of the genre were more than just car chase violence and tits - he managed to integrate heavy plot twists in with good performances - keeping within the framework of ruthless violence. His best examples include MILAN CALIBRE NINE (with the double crossing beauty/bitch Barbara Bouchet) and his masterpiece THE BOSS (a complex story of gangland power juggling all revolving around the hard nosed hitman Henry Silva). It would be impossible to get into every nook and cranny of the Italo-crime genre, as the type of film was as prolific as the Italian Westerns and horror films. I hope that this small article has sparked your interest in some way - as the films are almost never a let down. Even the cheapo examples such as VIOLENCE FOR KICKS come out triumphant with exploitative sex and violence to the max. Gotta love those enduro motorbike chases. J & B forever. Sinister Sam

Baba Yaga (AKA Devil Witch/Kiss Me, Kill Me.)

Don’t Look Now (1973) Cinemuerte Film Festival Dir: Nicolas Roeg

Baba Yaga is the story of a young progressive fashion photographer Valentina (Isabelle De Funès) who becomes the interest of an older lesbian witch (Caroll Baker) late at night after an incident with Baba’s car. The witch insinuates herself into Valentina’s life in some rather singular ways over the next few days, including cursing Valentina’s camera and presenting her with a doll dressed in S&M gear. It is eventually up to Valentina’s new boyfriend Arno (George Eastman) to try to pull her from the witch’s evil clutches.

Don’t Look Now is a cinematic onyx. That is to say, it is a dark gem of a film. Shot against the backdrop of a cold, labyrinthine Venice, it stars Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie (Doctor Zhivago, Dragonheart) as two parents trying to deal with their young daughter’s sudden, accidental death while Sutherland restores an old church. Two British spinsters are compelled to approach Christie when one of them, a blind psychic, purportedly sees the spirit of the dead child sitting beside her parents at a restaurant. Meanwhile, a serial killer is loose in the city.

Dir: Corrado Farina

For those of you not “in the know”, films of the “Giallo” genre (whose heyday was the late 60’s and 70’s) are low budget, European productions that feature psychedelia, sexiness, and gore. Giallo is one of those cult genres which has its loyal following and aficionados. Unfortunately, I am not among them. If I were, perhaps I would have appreciated Baba Yaga a bit more. For a movie that is loosely based on a comic (Guido Crepax’s Valentina) which is in turn based on an old Russian folk tale, Baba Yaga leaves a lot to be desired. As it is, the movie is high on style and low on substance. That said, though, there are a lot of elements in the film that held my attention: the parade of boobies; the transparent telephone; the over-generalised politico-philosophical debates, the love scenes comprised of still photos that come close to being animation. The film offers interesting images to the audience, but does not give us much credit. Certainly, we can suspend our disbelief and assume that Baba Yaga has magical powers, however we are also asked to assume that the characters lack any willpower or inherent sense of self-preservation. We are given only vague indications that Baba Yaga has put any kind of evil spell over Valentina herself (Yaga borrowed a clip from Valentina’s garter belt overnight) and yet Valentina goes to Yaga’s house when she is asked, takes home the obviously evil doll, and fails to inform her friends of her suspicions until after several people have mysteriously died. She is smart enough to question her own actions when she foolishly follows Baba Yaga’s orders, but is too stupid to take any real action against the witch’s rather conspicuous evil. There are absurd scenes— too many to mention, but one of which involves Valentina making love to a glove in Baba Yaga’s attic—which serve only to evoke a rise in the viewer but in fact take away from the coherence of the story in general. Sadly, while Baba Yaga is interesting as an example of the Giallo genre, as a story it is hit and miss. Toren acBoren MacBin


Recently, the film industry deemed it necessary to replace the genre-descriptive “horror” with the more mollified term “thriller”. Though unfortunate for many films, the classification of “thriller” best suits Don’t Look Now as it is heavy on suspense and dark insinuation and light on gore-caked flashing knives. The foreboding, claustrophobic avenues and alleys of Venice supply a perfect background to the creepy goings-on around the characters. There are no subtitles over the many scenes in Italian, which better serve to keep us English-only speakers “in the dark”. Visually, Roeg treats us to some inspired segues, metaphoric images, and drops in a few incongruous double-exposures in an unobtrusive way. Throughout the film one is a little perplexed as to what all of these visuals mean - the story introduces a fair share of red herrings but in addition to throwing us off they also add to the general malaise of the film. Some might say that there are too many elements left ambiguous and unresolved, but others might say that this is an effective way to leave the audience with more questions than answers… which suits me just fine. Toren “MacBin” Atkinson

Straight 8

VANCOUVER PREMIERE: ROCK OPERA (the movie) Co-op. Rock Opera, his first feature, is based on his friends and his personal knowledge of the Austin underground music scene. After a major investment backed out on a promised $15,000, Ray made up the difference with about seven credit cards belonging to his wife Nicole. It was worth the effort, as Rock Opera has now screened at over 20 film festivals world wide. My first thought on reading the press release for Rock Opera was that it sounded like a cross between Highway 61 and Dazed and Confused. Reading further, it seemed

Elizabeth Nolan


he first thing you should know about Rock Opera is that it’s not a musical. Secondly, you might like to know that it’s the story of Toe, a punk rock musician who tries to fund a tour for his band PigPoke by selling pot – a plan which goes drastically awry. You might also be interested in the fact that it was shot in the seedier live music venues of Austin, Texas, stars many local musicians, and features live performances by bands such as Nashville Pussy, the Fuckemos, and Witchbanger. Most importantly (in my book), a ton of reviewers have called Rock Opera “hilariously funny” or words to that effect. When do we get to see it? As soon as filmmaker Bob Ray and star actor Jerry Don Clark can get here in Jerry’s old Toyota RV. Ray started off his film career making zero budget shorts, with titles such as Sweet Sweetroll’s Baaadasssss Spin and Night of the Kung-Fu Zombie Bastards From Hell! After being rejected from the University of Texas film program five or six times, he was motivated to show them what they were missing and got some hands-on experience with the Cinemaker

Without question, Ray has garnered this kind of support because he is a talented and creative filmmaker. Rock Opera is going on tour “all over the Western US and a small bit of Canada,” (just us actually) and will be hitting Vancouver in late September. The film will be screened at the Blinding Light on September the 25th . Taking the attitude that they’re on a “one film-film festival,” Bob and Jerry will be on hand to answer questions and to hang out after each screening. As a veteran of the punk rock music scene himself and a selfmade filmmaker who is strongly committed to his community, Ray is sure to have some interesting stories. If you’re lucky, you might even catch a glimpse of Jerry’s RV – currently the tour vehicle, but formerly his house.

more like cross between Hard Core Logo and Slacker. There is a definite atmosphere of madcap drug taking, road tripping and musical adventure, and Bob Ray may well turn out to be Austin’s very own Bruce MacDonald. And since Austin is the locale, it’s no surprise that Richard Linklater’s films also immediately spring to mind. Linklater basically kicked off the whole Austin film scene in 1989 with his classic Slacker. In fact, Rock Opera has Linklater’s full endorsement – his co-founded Austin Film Society is a sponsor, and Linklater appeared as a guest speaker at the film’s premiere at the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema in 1999. a



didn’t ask for it to happen. I just woke up one morning and there it was. I moved my hand down into my shorts to scratch my balls and they weren’t there any more. Instead there was a big, sweaty, oozing pussy. At first I thought it had to be a nightmare, some type of acid flashback. Perhaps I was imagining the whole thing. But when I got up and stood in front of the fulllength mirror to examine it, there was no mistaking what it was. I pulled the lips apart and there it was, staring back at me. I went to the washroom and splashed some cold water on my face. I tried to convince myself that this was not happening. I slobbered on my index finger and rubbed my new clit. It was sensitive, like someone running a finger across the head of my cock. So it was hooked up correctly at least. It still felt wrong, like there was something missing in front. I hopped in the tub and ran some water. I sat very still and tried to collect my thoughts. What had caused this strange transformation? I had no idea. Perhaps it was something in my diet. Perhaps, I thought, I should run back into the bedroom and start looking for my cock. Maybe it dropped off in my sleep or something. Still, that wouldn’t explain what was happening between my legs. I sat and fiddled with the clit again. It felt sort of nice. I could feel the warm water around the hole as I spread the lips apart. I stuck my finger inside to see how far it would go. I got one all the way in, then another, and soon I was nearly fisting myself. I felt so filled up, it was incredible. I went back and concentrated on the clit, and before you know it I was having my first multiple orgasm. This thing was great. I mean, it may have looked stupid, me standing there with a pair of big, floppy piss flaps, but god was it great fun. I called my best friend Steve up on the phone and told him that I had something to show him. Something he’d never believe in a million years, so hurry up and come over. Steve seemed reluctant but I told him it was the damndest thing he’d ever see. Steve showed up about twenty minutes and three orgasms later. The damn thing was hungry. I couldn’t rub it enough. I was in heat. Steve nearly threw up when I took off the bath towel I was wearing and showed him my swollen, dripping cunt. “Jesus Christ!” he yelled. “What the hell is that thing?”

“It’s a pussy,” I told him. “It hasn’t been that long, has it?” “God, that’s hideous. You freak. What did you do to yourself?” “I didn’t do anything. It just appeared like magic!” Steve was green. Finally I calmed him down and he knelt down between my legs and took a look at it.


by Rusty Bedsprings

“Goddamn. Look at that. I’m no gynecologist but there’s no mistaking that.” “I told you, Steve. Isn’t it something? And I’ve had six orgasms so far today. It’s like the thing is stuck in overdrive.” “Really.” “Yeah, it’s amazing. I could go again.” “You don’t say.” I



I’d never really looked at Steve’s dick before. I guess it was a nice one, and a fair size. To my surprise, it was already hard. I spread my legs apart, closed my eyes and he slipped it in. God, it felt amazing. I had no idea how it felt from the other side before, but it was wonderful. Steve was doing a fairly good job – I’ll give credit where credit is due. I looked up and he was closing his eyes too, shoving it in and out. Suddenly, I felt close to coming. “Yeah, that’s it, Steve,” I said. “You’re doing great, I’m almost there.” “Shut up,” said Steve. “I don’t want to hear your voice, I’m trying to think of something else.” “Oh, sorry,” I muttered. The orgasm started to build until “pop!” I thought my head would explode. At that exact second I heard Steve let out a loud grunt. He stopped pumping and I felt something gushing into me. I jumped up. “Fuck! Steve, you idiot, you came in me!” “Huh?” “You came in me, you imbecile!” “So what?” “So I don’t know what’s going on with my body; what if you knock me up?” “What?”

get a funny feeling. Masturbating was fine and good but I really wanted to try this thing out. “Hey, Steve,” I said. “C’mere, I want to try something.” Steve came over and I started to unfasten his belt. “Whoa, whoa,” said Steve, protesting. “Wait a minute. What do you think you’re doing?” “I want to see how this thing works with an actual dick inside it. I want you to fuck it.”


“What if I get pregnant, you jack-

“Pregnant?” “Yes, pregnant. I have a cunt now, what if I’ve got ovaries and a womb and everything else.” “I didn’t think of that.” “Damn right you didn’t think. What the hell is

“Steve, for Christ’s sake, look at what’s between my legs. I’m a girl! We don’t have to hold hands and blow each other kisses, I just want you to put your cock in it and see how it feels.”

“Look,” said Steve. “I know we’ve been friends for a long time but I’ve got to draw the line somewhere. I’m am not going to have sex with you. I’m strictly for the ladies.”

“Steve, for Christ’s sake, look at what’s between my legs. I’m a girl! We don’t have to hold hands and blow each other kisses, I just want you to put your cock in it and see how it feels.” Steve thought it over. “I don’t know....” “Goddamn, Steve, will you come over here and fuck me. Just do it.” Steve shrugged, and went for it.

“I’m going to go home now,” said Steve, lacing up his shoes. “This is getting weird.” “Fine.” So Steve left and I sat there and worried about it. The next day I woke up, and to my chagrin that pussy was still there, laughing at me. It was still there the next day and the next, and then one day a funny thing happened. It started to bleed. I got the rags. It was awful. I felt like dirt. I had cramps, I was irritable, I just wanted to stay in bed but at least I wasn’t having that moron Steve’s baby. Menstruation was a horrible ordeal. Going to the store and buying tampons was embarrassing. I could feel all the people in the drug store laughing at me. A few days later everything was back to normal, or as normal as things can be when you’re a damned hermaphrodite circus freak. I went out to work and went about my daily tasks, and no one was the wiser. Using the employee washroom was a bit strange, having to sit down and all. It took some getting used to. The damned thing was kind of a nuisance. Anyway, one night me and some of the boys from work were out having a few beers and I suppose I’d had a few too many. I got all bold and told the guys to gather around because I was going to blow their mind. I unzipped and pulled down my pants, as they looked on in shock and amazement. They all agreed that they’d never seen anything like it. Then – I don’t know if it was the booze, or what – but the next thing I knew, they were lined up taking turns screwing my brand new box right on top of the bar, and I was cheering them on. I had more orgasms than I could count. It was incredible, but when we went back to work on Monday everything was weird. I was ostracized from the group. None of the guys would even look at me and I could hear them whispering behind my back. That stupid thing between my legs was nothing but trouble. I would have sewn it shut, but I don’t think I’d have been able to piss properly. At one point I started getting love notes from one of the guys in receiving, which was even more off-putting. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, the thing was just hungry and I had to feed it. I had no idea what to do. Maybe I’d just pack it up and join the circus. I was pretty despondent for about a week. None of my former friends would even talk to me. Then one day, when I was sitting alone at my desk, the girl in the cubicle across from me came over and sat down. Her name was Margaret something-or-other. Nice girl, always friendly, a bit shy and reserved, never talked much. “I want to talk to you about something that’s been bothering me,” she said.

your problem?”

I shrugged. “Okay, what?”

“My problem?” yelled Steve. “I didn’t even want to do it in the first place. I’m no fag, you pressured me.”

“Well something strange happened to me a few weeks ago. I didn’t dare tell anyone, but... well, I think you might understand.”

“Well, I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

I was confused, but I figured, what the hell. “Okay, what seems to be the problem?”

“It’ll be fine, you worry too much.” Steve was starting to put his pants back on. “That’s easy for you to say.”

Well,” she said. “I woke up the other morning and I found this....” She reached under her skirt and fished out the biggest, nastiest looking cock I had ever seen.

Straight Outta Copiers


&Z goes bipolar again this issue…last time it was all books, this time it’s all zines. Balance, shmalance. Somehow I don’t think there are a lot of fans of moderation out there in Nerveland. Distro on these can be a mite sketchy, so make the mountain to come to you, Mohammed, and contact these twisted sisters and misters yourself. Broken Glass Barbed Wire Street Fight #5 – Death Issue!!! ($1) Edited by Rusty Haight Distro contact: rusty_

I know so much about the removal and transport of cadavers after reading two interviews in two months with Mr. Plow, I don’t really know what to do with all the information. If you dug A.D. MADGRAS’ interview with Mr. Plow in The Nerve [last issue], have I got a zine for you. A measly buck gets you pages and pages of lovingly retold scenes of Skytrain jumpers, frozen brains stuck to pavement and drunks literally shitting themselves to death (methinks A.D. MADGRAS needs to clip and post that bit on his fridge). Mr. Plow hauled away the body of Beachcombers star Bruno Gerussi (don’t tell me you didn’t know he was dead) which is really about as far away from starfucking as you can get, when you think about it. I know a shockingly large number of people who would enjoy Little Diablo’s interview with a professional embalmer, and you have to have been a Mormon not to have at least run into one guy as crasty (crass + nasty) as those in Rusty Haight’s Reasons Why My Roommates Must Die. There’s some stuff that’s pretty fucking funny, from Rusty’s Kafkaesque story The Day I Grew A Cunt [reprinted opposite], to the handy Clint Eastwood Westerns: A Beginner’s Guide, and it’s all rounded out with some punk rock, some drugs and advice from a bondage mistress… as any good zine should be. Public Works Issue #2 (“free if you find it, a buck in a shop”) Edited by Public Workers Distro contact:

LEZIOS #2 (Jade Distribution) VANCOUVER’S HOTTEST COUPLES (Sweet Entertainment/STP) THE GIFT (Mercury Entertainment Group)


ancouver has become a player in the business of porn. This rise parallels the recognition of our city as Hollywood North in the mainstream movie and TV industry, yet in ”Hollyworld,” our town is always masquerading for an American city. Is it the same in porn? Blue Movies decided to take a look at some of the local product. We visited the adult section of a local independent video rental business and came up with a cross-section of homegrown (porn, that is).

This little zine spreads the tastiest culture jam I’ve had in a long while. Their first issue told how to open and close those Zoom Ads in bathrooms so you could fuck with the man trying to get wit’cha in the can, and this issue keeps up the good fight with tales of guerrilla billboard alterations and tips on bankrupting big corporations with simple tools they thoughtfully provide you…this time, the Business Reply Envelope (tip: the company pays for it, so send them something creative, like other companies’ junk mail, or, better still, tape the envelope to something in a much heavier envelope… make it over 50 grams and you will eat into their bottom line like so many termites. Termites of TERROR! Ha ha ha). Public Works gets all props from me because of the cool letter they sent with our review copy (on “Smoking is beautiful” stationery, with “I’M CHANGING THE CLIMATE, ASK ME HOW” bumper stickers for SUVs…available from and because I already own all the books on this issue’s reading list (great minds think alike). Next time the ‘corpos’ get you down, don’t get cranky, get pranky. Cinemasewer Vol #6 ($3) Edited by Robin Bougie Distro contact: #320 – 440 E.5th Ave, Van. BC, V5T 1N5 [My sister loves classic porn, so I shot this load her way to review — LT] This issue of Cinemasewer focuses on one of my favorite things - Vintage porn. 70’s porn is awesome and this zine is a pretty comprehensive introduction to that post-pill, pre-aids, happy, hairy, stick-it-in-any-hole you please fuck-fest that was. This handwritten, photocopied little booklet mirrors the lo-fi quality of its’ subject matter with articles on such classics as

Lezios 2 does not list Vancouver anywhere on it, but the video store’s label on the box has “SHOT IN VANCOUVER” in brackets beside the title. Is it? Hard to tell, since there are no exteriors. An amateur vid along the lines of Ben Dover’s series, it involves a nice, middle-aged balding fellow with a British accent “auditioning” so-called “video virgins.” Vancouver’s Hottest Couples (Vol. 1) is certainly up front about its Vancouver talent, proclaiming same in the title, the credits, and on a large white sticker on the front of the box. Again, its amateur “couples” format is all interiors (pun not intended) so Vancouver the city doesn’t actually appear. But I did notice that the same bedroom was used in Lezios 2. The Gift also has a sticker on the cover, fluorescent green, stating “Shot on film in Vancouver.” It lists the same thing in the printed credits on the back of the box. And The Gift is an actual movie (sort of), with a story, thus it has exterior shots, Yes, it’s Vancouver, though not mentioned by name; but when the lead actress gushingly exclaims “I remember driving home that evening. The sunset was gorgeous and the smell of the sea air was so comforting. God, I love this city!” as she drives over the Second Narrows Bridge, we know it is not New York.

Deep Throat and The Devil in Miss Jones (my personal fav), it is also full of stills, cartoons and lists and, best of all, ads for where these screen gems can currently be procured (oh to have something shipped in discreet packaging, my heart leaps!) Cinemasewer is a reading experience like when you found that muddy Hustler under a hedge on your way home from elementary school - you know, dirty, but in a good way. – The Pleasing Tower of Lisa Fiercely Sad Moron Ann(e) #2 – The White Trash Issue (Free) Edited by Steph Lau Distro contact: kungfu_steph@ My friend Dev-bo self-identifies as white trash, so this free zine was an easy sell. The cover of each lil’ booklet carries a different photo croppage (I made that up… it rhymes with collage…sounds like ‘the art of the cropped photo’ to me, and I’m going to run with it), so you can collect and trade with your friends. Shudder at the soul-crushing torment that is Owen’s White Trash Wedding (complete with pull-out map, but he kind of discourages you from going there pretty effectively), gird your loins for Steph Lau’s tale My 20th Birthday Weekend: An Exercise In Liver Damage, and find a quiet corner to meditate on Owen’s Only Observations #4 (my favourite: “Those look like comfortable pants.”) There are sexual positions of which I don’t think even Robin Bougie is aware, and if you went to Porno Chic in June at the Blinding Light!! [see last issue], you might find your memory stirred by the antics Kungfu Steph describes in White Trash Bowling. I’m trying to score a copy of the first issue, but y’all can look forward to the next liver damage update in #3.

Steve Sweet of Sweet Entertainment Group downplays the Vancouver factor, noting that they discontinued the Vancouver’s Hottest Couples series. However, he is still on the lookout for locals to perform on video. “Send me talent!” was his message. These days it is hard NOT to know somebody who works in the movie biz - behind the camera. But if local porn production keeps up, that may in fact BE your neighbour getting it the hard way, front and center, in your favourite porn video. Dmidtrui Otis

Yet in contrast to Hollywood North and its respected production talent, Andy Mandel of TMG Distribution claims it is not quality but “the thrill for the viewer that… the actor could be their neighbour” that creates an audience for Vancouver videos.


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