September 21, 2002

Today’s BLOG is entitled: “My Coffee with Andrej”.

I would give a full blown synopsis of my coffee with Andrej but who wants to be bored by the detailed description of an afternoon of philosophical discussion and Maxwell House French Roast on my deck. I will say this, my friend Andrej rules. He is one of a kind. I like him more than most people. And know that that is not saying much but I mean it. He kicks the ass. If I ever want to destroy myself, Andrej would help me push the self destruct button. He is a dude.

I worked on book two a/k/a the good one for many hours today. It is getting better as I edit it. I am excited to get this one out there. I will be done with draft two in a couple of weeks and I think I might be on to something.

I was just laughing with my wife on the futon and I asked her how ended up like this at age thirty.

This deal from the "CSU Cauldron" may be the answer or at least part of it.

“U2 - The Best of 1980 – 1990” (Island).

I have a good story to tell about the last time I listened to a U2 record. It was the fall of 1992. I had recently moved out of my parents' house and dropped out of Cleveland State University in order to pursue a life of full time drug consumption. I was twenty years old. A friend of mine from grade school, Joe Stevens, was living down in Columbus. He threw an annual fall party named, for obvious reasons, The James Brown Mexifest. My friend Druggie Dougie, my future wife and I went down to our state's capitol for the second edition of this legendary, in my circle of friend, party. We arrived well before "Star Time" to do some record shopping. We planned on spending the night, so we got situated in another friend's apartment and napped before the start of the festivities. Because I was into to chemical mind enhancement, I took LSD after the nap and watched "The Fisher King" with my bride to be. She was eighteen years old at the time and was on the fence as far as a relationship with me was concerned. I, of course, was totally in love with her as I had been since I first laid eyes on her. I sat on the couch next to her during the video and watched her pet a cat. I have never been so enamored with a person before or since. It is the wonder drug that does wonders.

The party was in full swing. James Brown was on the stereo. Druggie Dougie, on top of the acid, drank the largest jug of wine available commercially. I was dancing like a damn fool. Mexican food was on the table. My future wife, in spite of all previous planning, was ready to go home - back to Cleveland. I thought I was tripping when she said she was ready to leave. I heard her right. I was not going to argue with this delicate angel. I dutifully agreed to pack the car and gather Druggie Dougie. He was in shock and protested wildly. I told him to shut up and get in the car. He meowed and made whipping noises.
My future wife drove for her Escort for a whole exit to exit duration on I﷓71 out of Columbus before she decided that she was too tired to drive anymore. She asked if I could drive and I, LSD be damned, heroically agreed . Druggie Dougie asked me if I was crazy and I again told him to shut up.

We stopped ten minutes out of Columbus for gas and to switch positions. I filled up the tank - always the gentleman, while Druggie Dougie questioned my driving ability in this heightened sense of awareness. I knew I shouldn't be driving but I can never say no to my wife. While pumping, Druggie Dougie pulled out a cigarette and lit it next to the gas tank. I screamed at him in horror while watching my life flash before my eyes. He barely reacted in his blissed out stupor but eventually stepped a few feet away from the combustible fumes. That was not the first heart attack I was going to have that night.

The next thing I remember is wanting a cigarette myself. My future wife was asleep after two seconds of driving. Druggie Dougie was in the back seat of the Escort whining about what a cruel bitch acid is as he was totally drunk but could not pass out due to the speed. I was paralyzed with fear, too afraid to take either of my hands off of the wheel to light a cigarette or change the cassette in the car's stereo. The tape was U2's “The Unforgettable Fire” (Island, 1984). My knuckles were white on the steering wheel. I was driving exactly 55 miles per hour. I saw every single leave or piece of paper that blew across I - 71 in extreme detail. I chomped on a stick of gum with enough force to bite through a steel chain. The echo jagged guitar of the Edge blared from the speakers. The taped was in auto reverse so it would not stop. I was forced by fear to listen to that record several times on my acid trip home. I prayed that somebody would take it out of the stereo but it never happened. The guitar echoed jingajingajinga in my head. I barely breathed and did not blink once. Terror and Bono were my two co - pilots. My mouth was bone dry. I promised God that if I made it home I would never drive again. Period.

I stopped the car in the driveway of the Reveler House on West 91st Street and woke up my passengers with howls of joy. I kissed the ground. I did not sleep that night but, instead, watched my beautiful angel sleep on our couch. The Edge's guitar constantly echoed in my skull for a couple of days after that. My once and future wife left for Alaska in the following spring. I stopped doing drugs and listening to U2. I have not put on a U2 record since that night. We do not even have a copy of “The Unforgettable Fire” in our house.

Just say no to drugs and weak greatest hit packages. “The Best of 1980 – 1990” is a poor attempt at a good idea. The first issue of this record comes with a bonus disc of B - sides from this era. Are these all of the B - sides from this decade? I don't know because there is hardly a note that accompanies this package. The songs on either disc are not in chronological order or even all of the singles that U2 released in the eighties. If you are going to do something half - assed, don't even bother. A complete collection of their singles would have been a great idea. Instead, all we get is some thrown together CD with a few unreleased pictures of the band. No accompanying essay. No chart positions. No catalog information. No note from the band. No unreleased songs. Nothing. This record is only good for bar jukeboxes that need one U2 album or for the no thought Christmas present which was Island's intent. The holiday season brings out the worst in the record business and the worthless greatest hits album is the primary offender. If I would have paid money for this I would be pissed.

Gripes against crass commercialism aside, “The Best of 1980 – 1990” is all good music. U2 is one of the most important bands of the eighties and disc one of this set reminds the listener why. My full voiced sing alongs to "Pride (In the Name of Love)", "New Year's Day" and "Sunday Bloody Sunday" sent my cat running to the bedroom to hide. U2 had many great songs. The limited edition B﷓sides CD is mostly interesting moody filler type material with a cover of "Everlasting Love" being the stand out track. You get about two hours of quality music with this set but it could be way better with a little effort. It is getting to the point in U2's career when it is OK to look back in nostalgia. Somebody needs to get it together in order to give the hard core fan and the obsessive record nerd what they need﷓ a better and more complete package than what is offered here.

(1998)



posted by Thea at 10:22 PM

September 20, 2002

The wife and I went on the “Fit for Life” diet a couple of weeks ago. It was bogus at first – getting used to the all natural eating and hippy nutritional philosophy that went along with it. But then I got adjusted to it – not really enjoying eating energy salads but feeling good as a result of the healthy eating. I have been eating regular food for the past couple of days because of work and family functions. I was not eating garbage but typical sandwich, salad and desert box lunch type meals. Well, yesterday I ran like crap. I was totally exhausted from the start and ran the slowest 5K that I have ran in over a month. And today, I just felt like crap. I was generally slow and sluggish. I think there might be something to this hippy new age bullshit diet. For some reason the hippies say not to eat bread and meat together. I don’t know why but I don’t feel that hot after doing it for a couple of days. So tomorrow I get back on the hippy program and I am looking forward to it.

more heavy metal from the "U.S. Rocker"

Thy Serpent
Christcrusher
Radiation/Nuclear Blast

The members of Thy Serpent, Agathon (drums/vocals), Gami (guitar) and Azhemin (vocals, synths & bass), are nerds. Their band has the musical intensity of a James Taylor or a Seals and Croft. This keyboard laden record of metal sea chanties blows.

This music on this piece of crap record is composed of multilayered acoustic and electric guitars with plenty of synths placed on top of the mix. Horror movie pianos are added for effect - a sarcastic ooh how spooky.

The vocals are growled. On "So Free are the Wolves", they are also chanted in a monk style. A sample lyric from this song: "Tears flowed slowly from my eyes when I realized that it had accepted me". He is talking about a spiritual melding of the souls with a member of a wolf pack. Nerds.

"Circle of Pain" is a graphic description of a Christian sacrifice. The title track is the only fast thrasher on the record and it also speaks of killing Christians. Thy Serpent thinks Christians are bad and wolves are good. Nerds.

(Radiation/Nuclear Blast. P.O. Box 43618. Philadelphia, PA 19106.) Chris Klasa

(1998)

Mundanus Imperium
The Spectral Spheres Coronation
Nuclear Blast

Vocalist Jorn Lande sounds like David Coverdale. He wails away on this record and eventually drove me crazy. I am now insane because of his operatic howling.

What European country Mundanus Imperium is from is not clear from the packaging of the disc but they just as well could be from outer space with all of the cosmic imagery that is contained in the lyrics of this record. One of these words: cosmic, universe, galaxy or void, is in every song on this record. I think they come from the planet Bungholus One.

The metal based music on this LP has the tempo of the sea chanty or the most Nordic of Iron Maiden songs. I feel like I am in a Viking ship when I listen to this record. There are many keyboards on this proggy hard rock record. An occasional classical piano break occurs, furthering my mental problems. The songs on this record are as long as they are pointless. This record could be used as background music for an Olympic wrestling video.

(Nuclear Blast. P.O. Box 43618. Philadelphia, PA 19106.)

(1998)


posted by Thea at 7:52 PM

September 19, 2002

I was born metal and will die metal. Although I managed the Revelers and was known to the editors of the “U.S. Rocker” as that first, the dudes let me do my thing and gave me many metal records to review – mostly bad. I was eager to establish an identity outside of the band and appreciated the opportunity that the “U.S Rocker” gave me to do that. Thank you Sean and Eden. Here are a couple of metal reviews from back in the day.

Nihil
Drown
Slipdisc Records

My first reaction to “Drown” by Nihil was that it is lame beyond words. But since I am a scribbler, it is my job to come up with some words. So here it goes.

“Drown” is the creation of one man: Scott Crowley. He wrote, programmed and performed all seventy minutes/16 songs all by himself. If you put 100 monkeys in a room with 100 samplers, drum machines and keyboards, they will come up with a better techno album than “Drown”.
If one of my many musician friends gave me a demo that sounded anything like “Drown”: NIN, Ministry, Godflesh styled techno - I would kick them in the balls so hard that they would be forced to spend the rest of their days doing a Liza Minelli act at a bar by the airport.

Nihil's “Drown” could also be called “Technomatic” by Ronco as seen on TV. A spot: "That's right kids, you too can own the amazing “Technotmatic” it growls through a broken microphone like Marilyn Manson. It has processed guitars and feedback. It has the same drum machine beat for over an hour. It has song titles like "Lost", "Tear" and "Trust" with the same shit sampled (howls, screams, the word fuck or the phrase fuck me) as every other techno song you have ever heard. Buy one for you and it makes a great gift for your fourteen year old sister who wears black and writes in her diary about sorrow. Buy “Technomatic” today."

What could I have done with the seventy minutes I wasted listening to “Drown”? I don't know. Maybe I could have cured cancer but we will never know because that time is now lost forever. Time is precious. Don't waste it listening to this album.

(Slipdisc Records. 101 W. Grand Ave., 6th Floor. Chicago, IL 60610.)

(1998)

Oppressor
Elements of Corrosion
Olympic Recordings, Inc.

The opening track of “Elements of Corrosion”, "Corrosion", has more squealing, noodling, fast and insane Hanneman/King styled guitar solo work than all of Slayer's nineties output combined and it does not let up after the first track.

Oppressor plays death metal with many breaks and change ups in every song. There is more than a bit of modern post rock indie styled guitar dissonance blended with tried and true metal formula on the record. The singer has a good growl. The drummer has both feet smoking throughout every song and the fills on the numerous breaks are good.

This record provided a thoroughly enjoyable half hour of modern metal. It is a record that I like and will listen to again.

A small note: The term "extreme" to describe a modern metal record is totally played out. Like I said, I like this record but there is nothing extreme about it or any of the like 99% of current metal releases. Sure, these records are fast and have deliberately nutty off kilter starts and stops or curveballs of music o' plenty but there is nothing about these records that make me freak out because they are so intense or out there. "Extreme" metal is not that extreme anymore.

(Olympic Recordings, Inc. P.O. Box 7217. Elgin, IL 60121.)

(1998)

posted by Thea at 12:33 PM

September 18, 2002

I think I now know why Thea BLOGS so sporadically. It is because she is Ultra Light. You see, if I have nothing to bitch about when I write, then I make something up. If I can’t bitch about things because I am living Ultra Light, then I have nothing to write about. I would complain about having nothing to BLOG about but I am not bitching. That would not be Ultra Light. This is where I should write about work. This is where I should write about what I ate. This is where I should mention going to the store. This is where I should talk about television. This is where I am going to keep it Ultra Light about the fact that the man changed my television schedule and now I don’t get a full hour of “The Simpsons” and “Seinfeld” exactly when I want them. That would mean I would have to revise my perfect Ultra Light day from yesterday’s BLOG. But I won’t because I don’t care because I am Ultra Light.

Big ups to Ron Kretsch for his hilarious review of "The Banger Sisters" in today's "Free Times". You are the man now, dog.

from the U.S. Rocker:

Kidd Wicked
Thick
MC Records/Big Blue Billy Club

I remember a time in the not - so - distant past when Kidd Wicked, along with their hair farming buddies: Fatal Charm, the Fashion Police, Spoyld, Outta the Clue, Cherry Bomb, Gypsy Boots, Donatello, Zaza et. al., were thought of as THE ENEMY by the punkish rockers in Cleveland. I started reading the U.S. Rocker (yes, I remember) to keep up with this motley crew and their hilarious tales of broken up bands, potential major label deals that never materialized and ill fated trips to Hollywood in order to "make it" like their hero Jani Lane.

The fact that I am not going to totally fucking slam Kidd Wicked is a testimony to how bullshit rock - n - roll has become. It is all so meaningless now. It is a decade later and most of these bands gave up a while ago. You can buy punk rock in malls now. I talk to kids at school who dress in the fashion of the cutting edge rocker of my youth and discover that they listen to Barenaked Ladies. There is no enemy anymore. There is nobody to fight and I am really wondering what it was that we (the punks) were fighting for.

I am impressed that Billy Morris has kept Kidd Wicked going for so long. The Akron Agora and the Cleveland Cafe are closed yet Kidd Wicked keeps on rocking. At least he believes in what he is doing unlike the rest of the graduating class of Poison High. Posers. “Thick” is the third offering from this group. It is mainstream hard rock. If Ozzy would record any of these songs for his next record, he would be applauded for picking quality material. This totally DIY effort has deluxe packaging. There are many guitars solos on this record as clearly illustrated in the lyrics. The lyrics, showing signs of maturity, are earnest soul searching comments on the human condition. I wish the were a little more bang your chest like the Nuge cock rock since I like to laugh.

“Thick” was recorded in Billy Morris' home studio. The production is very clean and the effort that was clearly put into this record is noted. The mix of the record is way too by the books for my taste, though. Tape hiss and track bleed are not necessarily bad. This is where the cultures still clash. Sometimes you have got to let it rip, dude. The punk rock wars of the late eighties has boiled down to record production aesthetics.

(Kidd Wicked c/o Dreamstate Studios. 24271 Forestview St. Columbia Station, OH 44028)

(1998)


from the U.S. Rocker

posted by Thea at 5:44 PM

September 17, 2002

An exercise in ultra light living:

Imagine a perfect day for you factoring out any ambition for something more than what most people are content to call a life. That way, when everything around you fails and you are still working a bogus job thirty five years from now, you can still say that you are happy because you have convinced yourself that it is the little things that make you happy. This exercise could also be called developing coping mechanisms for losers.

6:00 a.m. – wake up and write for an hour
8:00 a.m. – ride the bus with people fatter than me
9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. – work a job where I have no contact with people and can listen to records and sports talk radio all day
6:00 p.m. - eat a sandwich, chips and a Coke for dinner, watch “The Simpsons” and “Seinfeld”
7:30 p.m. – edit writing while listening to the Cavs on the radio
8:30 p.m. – run while listening to the Cavs on the radio
10:00 p.m. – read for an hour
11:00 p.m. – kiss (or kissing plus) the wife and go to sleep

The ultra light me says that this day repeated until death will make me happy. The real me (ultra heavy) just wants to cry at the thought of it all.

From the “CSU Cauldron” (Man, I can’t believe I listened to so much rap back in the day [back in the day].)

It is time once again, boys and girls, for the new rap release round up. There has been a ton of new releases lately due to the fact that the record industry is collectively gearing up for the holiday shopping season. The record business has been in a slump as of late and it looks like it is up to hip hop to try and elevate the slagging sales that have been plaguing the pop market. I do wish that the flood of new rap records that are scheduled to be released from now until Christmas were loaded with quality material but that is not the case. It is more of the same from the pop marketplace where the formula is pushed until it does not sell anymore. I gave up on commercial pop and rock years ago and it looks like rap might be heading for the same fate. I am still into most mainstream rap but there has to be some sort of rejuvenation to get me truly excited again. Even the best rap records are still repetitive cliche driven formula. It is product just like everything else. I am still looking and listening for a new voice or a different beat to come out of hip hop. I know it is out there. I am doing the hard work so you don't have to.

Canibus – “Can I Bus” – CD - (Universal). Canibus gained a certain degree of renown for his single "Second Round K.O.", included on this record, which was a dis record focused at LL Cool J. This is LL Cool J's second recorded fight with the first being with Kool Moe Dee back in the mid - Eighties. Why can't the boys play nice? That is what I want to know.

That song, produced by Wyclef Jean and featuring the vocals stylings of Mike Tyson, is definitely the highlight of the album. The rough voiced Canibus shows potential on the record with his rapid fire delivery and decent lyrical content but, on the whole, the record could stand get a little variety in the cuts. All and all, a good rookie effort.

Cypress Hill - "Tequila Sunrise" b/w "Mr. Green Thumb" (Ruffhouse/Columbia). This is first single off of Cypress Hill's upcoming fourth album. There are no surprises here with B - Real's nasal whine cutting through the reefer haze on the record nicely. Both of the songs are testaments to the party lifestyle that Cypress Hill profess to love. The beats on both songs are also typical fare for the veteran group. I wonder what the group is talking about with "Mr. Green Thumb"? Maybe they have had a particular degree of success with tomatoes and cucumbers in their victory gardens this past season. I wonder.

Jermaine Dupri – “Life in 1472” CD - (So So Def/Columbia). So So Def s head honcho Jermaine Dupri's first attempt at turning himself into another Puff Daddy is a triumph. "Money Ain't a Thang" is probably my favorite song to get MTV airplay this year. Even though Dupri and Jay - Z's testimony to the player lifestyle is about as original as a priest saying mass, the beat of the song is good and the horn hook is extremely catchy and, dare I say it, dope. That jam is dope. Yes, it is fresh and hype. I really like old slang. It makes me laugh. Straight up, homey. The rest of the record is quality up tempo dance type numbers with OK raps and the requisite one million cameos. Not bad.

Fat Joe “Don Cartagena” - CD (Big Beat/Atlantic). It amazes me sometimes at how ubiquitous the Wu - Tang sound has become. This record is no exception. The majority of the tracks are all RZA. Fat Joe raps about the life of crime on this record with conviction. Old school pioneer Marly Marl provides production on a track and so does DJ Premier. Both songs are stand outs with more funk in the grooves than the others. "John Blaze", a horn driven song featuring Raekwon, Jadikiss, Big Punisher and Nasty (I am not going to call you Escobar) Nas is the record's best track. This album is all right. In light of Big Punisher and Eightball's recent success, let me reiterate my desire to be a rapper. I want to be a sex machine fat guy. I want to star in glamorous videos with hot ladies. Rapping must be a crazy aphrodisiac. The rap world is very accepting of obesity. Hopefully, they would embrace this fat white guy with no skills as one of their own.

Funkmaster Flex – “The Mix Tape - 60 Minutes of Funk - Volume 3” - CD (Loud Records). Hip hop for the short on attention span person. The record is many snippets by many name rappers mixed together by MTV Jam's Funkmaster Flex. It has freestyle raps by favorites like KRS - One, Mos Def, Slick Rick, Guru and EPMD among several others. The record is good and as soon as a track gets boring it switches to something else. I could live with more scratching from any DJ record but this is still recommended.
Jay﷓Z - "A Million and One Questions" (Roc - a - fella/Def Jam). This single is subtitled the DJ Premier Remix. Do I have to tell you anything else? Primo = a rocker every time.

Kid Capri featuring Snoop Dogg and Slick Rick - "Unified" b/w "We're Unified" (Trackmaster/Columbia). This is the lead single from the debut album by this long time DJ, Soundtrack to the Streets. The record is a combination of two of raps most distinctive vocalists and great production. I wish that this was the combo for the entire album. The B - side is the same song remixed using an ultra deconstructed "Good Times" by Chic beat. That is the beat that will never die.

Pete Rock with Inspectah Deck and Kurupt - "Trumaster" - (Loud). The almighty Pete Rock is back with a great single. His cuts on last year's Rakim album showed that Pete Rock has not lost a step since his split with CL Smooth. T his track is no different. It is phat (there's that slang again) with a good beat and some classic James Brown samples. His solo debut, “Soul Survivor”, is one of my most anticipated releases this fall. In a genre of copy cats and followers, Pete Rock is a leader.

Snoop Dogg “Da Game is to be Sold Not to be Told” - CD (No Limit/Priority). "Here's one for my home boy Snoop/ I got your new record and it sounds like poop." This record is the worst of this column's bunch. It stinks. Snoop's most endearing qualities, his voice and delivery, are buried by some of the worst production I have heard on a rap record in years. The beats, provided by a Casio keyboard that was floor model at Walmart, are louder than anything else on the tracks. They are sad. Snoop raps about the typical gangsta rap stuff with little invention. His reworking of NWA's "Gangsta, Gangsta" is a crime. His originals like "Gin and Juice 2" and "Still a G Thang" are anything but original. They are poor attempts at recapturing his former glory. This record is a disappointment that should be avoided at all costs.

(1998)

posted by Thea at 4:23 PM

September 15, 2002

My first week of ultra light living ended up with me feeling ultra heavy. I bottomed out while running in all of that rain we got today. I felt miserable, depressed and wet. Because I am living ultra light, I am going to blow it all off and pretend that nothing is wrong. That is what ultra light living is all about.

from the "CSU Cauldron"

I was too busy last week to review any records. If you only read my stuff for my insightful commentary on rock, I will be back next week with a "reviews only" column free from my abuse of the inane and the anecdotal. If you read this for the glorious minutiae of my life as a soul searching dumbass enjoy

I was so busy last week attending to the business of getting a book deal. I am going to be a published author. It is not as great as it sounds even if, I must say, it sounds pretty great. The deal is from a micro publishing house in San Francisco, Stolen Books Co. It is owned and operated by a couple of hippie pinkos. Dealing with these weed eaters is a small price to pay for being a published author. I love the sound of that - a published author. Speaking of small prices, that is exactly what Stolen Books Co. is offering me for my debut tome. I doubt that the advance is going to cover my medical expenses. There is no money in publishing unless your name is Clancy, King or Grisham. Unfortunately, because I am a dumb ass, my book is not a mass market thriller. It is not any type of fiction or the obviously logical rock - n - roll book either. I am doing an art book.

My confession. Extreme boredom forced me into the questionably legitimate and clearly non-rocking world of conceptual performance art a couple of years ago. This was a period of my life where Cleveland State was not bleeding me of all of my free time and I decided to free myself from the clutches of alcohol and drugs. I, thanks to total sobriety, had a ton of time on my hands. Staying faded is a full time job, let me tell you, and without that all consuming activity on my calendar, I was able to devote myself to my art. I will not be returning to the art world after graduation, however. Physical fitness is my new bag.

Anyway, I came up with an idea called the Ku Klux Klown. This conceptual performance art piece was a multi layered endeavor. First, I dressed up in a clown costume with floppy shoes, baggy polka dotted trouser, red ball nose, rainbow wig and traditional face paint. The only aspect of my costume that would keep me out of the circus was an open faced Klan hood. The idea of the mixed costume was an effort to deactivate the power of that white sheet symbol. Let me state plainly for the listeners at home: fuck racism. My hope was to turn the symbols of hate into meaningless nothings and to illustrate their absurdity.

Secondly, I drove to various locations around Cleveland dressed in my Ku Klux Klown costume. I would stop at busy intersections, get out of the car and commence with a street corner performance. I did a typical clown act: balloon art, bozo voice, squirting flowers, slapstick mime, etc. I am not the world's greatest clown but I did a passable job. It did not take me long to draw a crowd.

Third, receive beating. This is where the actual art comes in. Nobody wants to see some idiot dressed up as the Ku Klux Klown. It did not take too much time before the casual confrontation became heated. I kept with my clown act, never once breaking out of character. I am a professional. Harsh words turned to shoving advanced to punches quickly. "Nobody likes hitting, boys and girls. Klucky is your friend, "I said between punches to my face. I accented the hits with the toot of my clown's horn. Each blow, every kick to my stomach was like the painter's brush to a canvass. Although I was the artist, I was not working alone. This was a cooperative piece.

I had a photographer on sight to document the happening. I instructed him to never intervene. If I died, that was my problem. He took rolls of stunning black and white photos. I did want the color of my cuts and bruises to be too graphic and, besides, black and white photography is nice and artsy. He shot every one of my half dozen performances. There are many good shots of my face distorting from the blow of a fist. Those shots remind me of "Raging Bull" even though, trust me, I am no Robert DeNiro. My wife will attest to that.
The performance would end when I could not stand anymore. I would toot my horn slowly, like the last bit of air flowing out of a busted tire, and turn my swollen face into a pouty puss.

Next, I would get checked out at the hospital and allow my wounds to heal for a couple of weeks before I donned the costume again. I performed as the Ku Klux Klown about a half dozen times before I felt that I made my point. The missed work and doctor's bills were becoming art prohibitive also.

The book that is coming out on Stolen Books Co. is a documentary of all the events of that piece with insightful commentary by yours truly. The project is tentatively titled “Ku Klux Klown: Mart, Freedom﷓ One Artist's Fight Against Racism”.

Looking over the wealth of photographs documenting this project, I am realizing now that I may have been a bit misguided in my fight against oppression. I probably could have made an anti Klan sign and stood on Public Square with my message and made as big as an impact but there is nothing antsy about that. Us artists need to make our statements with a little more flair and flamboyance than a simple sandwich board, believe me.

Look for my book in health food co - ops, punk rock record stores and head shops in 1999. Only record reviews next week - I promise.

(1998)

posted by Thea at 8:22 PM