There are many things that DNA wants to weigh in on, but he has to limit himself to just some musical news. First, DNA is still climbing the local Reverbnation charts. Click on the reverbnation player on the sidebar to listen to the latest stuff DNA has posted.
Next, both Jason and the Scorchers and Stace England and the Salt Kings have released new albums. You would have to be dead not to like them. Check Stace England out at
Stace England's website
and check out Jason at
Jason and the Scorchers' website.
Alright, since last DNA posted, a few musical happenings have stirred. First, it is possible that CRANK will rise again this year. If so, then it is equally possible that the DNA Vibrators will play out too, and will be joined by Silver Spring Monkeys, the Reverend's new band. You can check his demos out at
the Silver Springs Monkeys facebook page.
Next, DNA has been in contact with Derek from several terrific Carbondale bands, and with Chris, also with a great Carbondale pedigree, who now lives in Minneapolis, and it looks like the wheels are going to turn on a new band, with an as-of-yet defined musical idiom.
Lastly, after reconnecting on facebook with my friend Jim, DNA had the chance to talk about an old Coolies' show, which he still has. He is burning it on CD for me, which means in short order, DNA will be digitally remastering it and putting it up on this here website for your listening pleasure or disgust, depending.
You'll have to catch me back later for pithy political, music scene, and religious bloviation. DNA is in the middle of a demanding semester for his Ph.D. in Kick-Assology.
Showing posts with label Old Stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Old Stuff. Show all posts
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Long Overdue.
DNA has graciously accepted that he will never be a world famous musician. He sells some records, does what he likes, keeps a good job and stable family life. For a long time, even until recently, the musical goal was to make good records, entertain people, maybe even make a few bucks, and have a lot of fun doing it. The goal has changed. DNA no longer cares if he makes a plug nickel from any of his music. It's still for sale, don't get DNA wrong, but starting today, the first installment of free DNA music, a CD called The Hole Truth, will be available to download for free, for ever. It collects all of DNA's first two releases, "Twin Rockets Are A Go, Baby!" and "Unnatural Selection." Over the next few weeks, or months, or really, when DNA gets to it, he will put up everything on the website for you to have.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
A Brief History of Music....
Not long ago, the remains of a vulture bone flute and a mammoth ivory flute were found in the refuse pits of 35,000 to 40,000 year old human settlements. Wow. These are the oldest verified musical instrument found. There are some claims that even older flutes have been found at a Neanderthal site that could be as old as 80,000 years old, but there is some debate about whether those "flutes" were actually flutes, or just the side effects of hungry predators punching holes in cave bear arm bones. After reading through what evidence DNA could find on the internet, he is inclined to believe that the older cave bear bone "flutes" are indeed actual flutes and not just flutes in quotations.
Regardless of which flute is the oldest, knowing that a musical instrument exists at that time means that we must presuppose many, many things. First, a reconstruction of the vulture bone flute produced recognizable musical tones in a recognizable set of intervals. DNA crapped his pants when he heard a sound file of the flute. This was a big deal.
Why is this a big deal, and why crap your pants, you might ask DNA? Well, to answer the first question, it is a big deal because if the tones were in a recognizably spaced pattern, i.e., a scale, and one that approximated a modern scale, then this means a modern conception of musical syntax must have existed at that time, too. But, not just at that time. The musical understanding had to pre-date the flute by a long time. How many generations of singers would have to pass before the concept of how music works would be comfortable enough as a social tool for an artisan to spend a lot of time to first figure out that wind power from human lungs can produce ordered tones in hollow tubes? Scale lengths, materials, hole sizes and spacing would all have to be experimented with over long periods of time, too. DNA guesses that the concept of music probably pre-dates the first musical instruments by tens of thousands of years. Which means, that music and speech are likely developmental milestones in our species which occurred roughly at the same time.
If the Neanderthal flute is the real deal, then the development of music very well might pre-date our species, and DNA can't tell you how geeked out he is about that possibility.
Follow these friendly links for more information about the story:
Oldest Human Musical Instruments
Oldest Musical Instruments Found
Neanderthal Flute
To answer the second question, DNA crapped his pants because it was time to crap, and when the times comes, DNA waits for no man, or, as in this case, he waits for no sound file of a 40,000 year old instrument to finish playing, either.
Regardless of which flute is the oldest, knowing that a musical instrument exists at that time means that we must presuppose many, many things. First, a reconstruction of the vulture bone flute produced recognizable musical tones in a recognizable set of intervals. DNA crapped his pants when he heard a sound file of the flute. This was a big deal.
Why is this a big deal, and why crap your pants, you might ask DNA? Well, to answer the first question, it is a big deal because if the tones were in a recognizably spaced pattern, i.e., a scale, and one that approximated a modern scale, then this means a modern conception of musical syntax must have existed at that time, too. But, not just at that time. The musical understanding had to pre-date the flute by a long time. How many generations of singers would have to pass before the concept of how music works would be comfortable enough as a social tool for an artisan to spend a lot of time to first figure out that wind power from human lungs can produce ordered tones in hollow tubes? Scale lengths, materials, hole sizes and spacing would all have to be experimented with over long periods of time, too. DNA guesses that the concept of music probably pre-dates the first musical instruments by tens of thousands of years. Which means, that music and speech are likely developmental milestones in our species which occurred roughly at the same time.
If the Neanderthal flute is the real deal, then the development of music very well might pre-date our species, and DNA can't tell you how geeked out he is about that possibility.
Follow these friendly links for more information about the story:
Oldest Human Musical Instruments
Oldest Musical Instruments Found
Neanderthal Flute
To answer the second question, DNA crapped his pants because it was time to crap, and when the times comes, DNA waits for no man, or, as in this case, he waits for no sound file of a 40,000 year old instrument to finish playing, either.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
December 2006
December marks the beginning of the fourth month of shameless self-promotion and pointless vitriol spewed forth by The DNA Vibrator. Take a moment to read the archived months missives. As the DNA Vibrator has indicated before, this blog page removes what others may consider certain expected blog features, but removing those extraneous bits makes the blog more conducive to reading through from start to end, like a book. It is stripped down to the essentials. The DNA Vibrator may provide links to other sites or information it references ONLY if it suits the purpose of The DNA Vibrator.
September archive quote: "611 Pizza was like the bar, Cheers, except with a lot more tattoos, leather, black make-up, puking, pot smoking, and hardcore music." Look it up here.
October archive quote: "Because so many of you have come unbidden to look at The DNA Vibrator, The DNA Vibrator has come to realize that some of you may need The DNA Vibrator, the way punk needs bitch." Look it up here.
November archive quote: "Tips For The Traveling Band. TIP #8: Don't finance your other band member's equipment with a high interest rate charge card, no matter how fucking much you love each other." Look it up here.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/01/06
Working on a New Album.
In a flurry throughout the month of November, The DNA Vibrator has written and recorded, or salvaged and remastered 13 songs for a new recording, and its just getting started. It was going to call the new disc "The Return of the Purple-headed Stranger," but it has changed its mind.
It was going to call it that because, no bullshit, 10 years ago, DNA announced to the local entertainment rag that it was going to put out a new album, reeaal soon, called ROTPHS. I guess from a geologic perspective, 10 years is just a drop in the bucket, so DNA felt obligated to call it that. The title was funny enough, sure, in fact a cheap joke at the "vibrator" aspect of the band's name, and although The DNA Vibrator is not above cheap shots at its own expense, the songs didn't fit that title. The songs came from a slightly more mature place than ROTPHS. In fact, the best name DNA could think of for the collection is the same as the title of the home page of this website: "The Shape of Things to Have Come and Gone." [editor's note: the old blog was called "The Shape of Things to Have Come and Gone." The new one, is of course, the much cooler, "Twin Rockets Are A Go, Baby!"] Since many of the songs are about the family DNA has lost and the family DNA is raising, it seemed very apropo.
DNA is not for sure what it is going to do with the CD. It may distribute it through CD Baby a great source for independent musicians to distribute their works nationally, it may sell it through this website, or it may give it away as free downloads to anyone who wants it on this website. DNA is not in it for the money. Its always been for the chicks and the drugs.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/09/06
New album is either done or one half of a double CD
13 is a magic number. Its the number of songs which seems appropriate for this disc. Its the number that gets you in and out of the CD in under 45 minutes. It gives the best emotional roller coaster while listening. Any more and DNA gets bored. But, there are about 10 more songs that are ready to be recorded, or nearing that point. Based on some input from old friends, like the Hand of God Attachment, DNA will decide soon whether this will be a one disc or a two disc recording. Why not? Sometimes you have to strike while the iron is hot. Something in this feels to DNA like desperation. What if this is the last hurrah? What if after this, there is no more creative juice? If so, then DNA wants to out with a mother fucking BANG.
It will likely be in DNA's best interest to wait until after Christmas break to release anything to the local press. In Carbondale, when the students leave SIU for break, everything kind of retreats back into southern Illinois. Also, DNA is waiting to hear back from HFA (Harry Fox Agency) to secure the mechanical rights to a cover song it wants to put on the record.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/11/06
Back on the Political Front
Last month, because The DNA Vibrator has grown accustomed to writing only for its own sake, it wrote letters regarding our country's involvement in Iraq to the President, and to its local senators, Barack Obama and Dick Durbin. Look back here to see the letter, and the first response DNA got back. It was from the President of the United States. Of course it was a form letter, no, a form email, even lower, which likely put DNA on some kind of watch list. Smart, huh?
Next, look at the response DNA got back from senator Obama this week. Probably a form too, but honest to God, DNA thinks that a person, maybe even the senator saw it. You read, and you be the judge.
Dear XXXX(DNA can't simply give you its alias. That ruins the fiction!):
Thank you for writing to share your thoughts about the Iraq War. I appreciate hearing from you, and believe that we can do better in seeking an end to this conflict.
On November 20th, I gave a speech to the Chicago Council on Global Affairs detailing my views on the changes that need to be made. I have enclosed a copy of that speech for your review. [click here if you want to read it. DNA thought it actually made some sense.] I hope you will continue to share your thoughts with me as developments occur.
Thank you again for writing.
Sincerely,
Barack Obama
United States Senator
P.S. Our system does not allow direct response to this email. However, if you would like to contact me again, please use the form on the website: http://obama.senate.gov/contact/
For that, DNA probably got put on a hit this sap up for contributions list. But like DNA said in the last political post, we'll see what the different politicians are made of based on their responses. So far, Obama appears to care if DNA votes in the next presidential election.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/12/06
Busted Lips, Hospital Trips, That's What Recording Sessions Are Made Of...
The DNA Vibrator doesn't like to brag, but during its heyday, it was practically living in the recording studio. When you consider all of its studio ventures were creatively funded (student loans, equipment trades, studio work for others, saved up gig money, money made from house parties, hittin' up the parents cuz of a forgotten college "fee")that feat is pretty amazing, because the studio isn't cheap. If music is the high, if playing out live is the drug, then the studio is the safehouse you can go to to keep from getting busted by the cops. The difference in this analogy is that this particular safehouse charges anywhere from $20.00 to $200.00 an hour for you to stay there. Musicians like The DNA Vibrator would do about anything to keep itself in the studio. Like the song says, "Spent our 20's in and out of half a dozen different bands. Spent our money in the studio like each dollar was a grain of sand." Man, did we ever.
Was it worth it? Of course it was. What else would we have spent it on? Books? Booze? Ass? Music certainly trumps those useful, but not necessary, trifles. In the course of many trips to the studio, we became close friends with Scott Munson, a terrific film-maker, who was spending his time in Carbondale cultivating the atmosphere in which his band, IT, could breathe. He figured that he would be here until he got his big break, or until he finished his master's thesis, a moving piece which incorporated time lapse photography of the area outside of Yellowstone Park which he had shot over many years. If you wanna know more about Scott, he currently works as the sound engineer at the House of Blues in San Diego. His band, IT, is on semi-permanent hiatus, but produced some good music. DNA helped do some studio work on their second unreleased project with Scott and his good friend, Todd Freeman, an amazing guitarist. See how we're all just an inbred happy little family!
Well, while Scott was doing his time in Carbondale, he became a sought after sound engineer. He worked for Soundcore music, run by Carbondale native and music scene fixture, Joe C. The band Crank worked with Scott many times, in live sound situations, and in the studio. We planned for several months what we would need to do to get in the studio, and booked several sessions. The initial recording, brutally loud, frenetic, exploring many techniques that we were both learning on the fly, was completed about this time of year, back in 1993. After we finished, Scott went on his winter break from school and Carbondale, and we played several shows over the holidays. It gave us time to listen to what we had done, and figure ways to improve some tracks that had shortcomings.
We scheduled several more trips into the studio. One early spring night, The Reverend, Ralph, Dave, and The DNA Vibrator all met Scott Munson at Soundcore studio to re-do the vocal tracks on a song titled "Not Like Me." The Reverend and DNA were there with Scott Munson early, working on some stuff, and then were joined by the rest of the crew later. Now, forgive The DNA Vibrator if its memory is fading, but the events of that night have kind of blurred together. At some point, The Reverend had taken a break from laying down new vocal tracks, and was enjoying a beer. We all had taken a break for our favorite recreational drugs,(DNA is not trying to sound cool---for most of us, that was beer), when The Reverend heard something outside, and then noticed some guy by his old beat up Mustang. Then he noticed what the guy was doing. "What the fuck!" the Reverend yelled. Some motherfucker is outside throwing big fucking rocks at my car!" He tossed open the back door of the studio he was looking through, with each of us following up behind. We were not exactly sure if what we heard him say was what we heard him say, so we were not sure what we might find, but we knew The Reverend was shocked about something, and it took quite a bit to get him angry. Sure enough, there was this big motherfucker, hefting up cinder blocks and throwing them up against the side of The Reverend's car and window glass.
Now, before we go further, DNA needs to set this stage a little better. The back door of the studio opens up onto a hard to get to, very small, private parking lot for people at the studio, and believe it or not, for the poor bastards who rented the apartment above the studio. It was only accessible from an alley, and was not even visible from the nearest main crossroad. There was a streetlight on the corner, but large parts of the lot and back of the studio were in darkness. It is not a place you expect to see a linebacker demolishing a car. And this guy, let's call him Craig "I'm a big dumb fucking neanderthal" T.......no, no, you fucker, you don't get the limelight. DNA won't use your real name. For the sake of the story, let's just call him "the big dumb fucking douchebag dick licker," or the BDFDDL for short. Well the BDFDDL actually WAS big, a cornfed backwoods sister-humping frankenstein of a bitch. Knowing absolutely no fear, however, The Reverend came right up on him. The BDFDDL kind of looked surprised, like a bear might if someone stumbled upon it after goring a child. Faced with this uncertain and unplanned for contingency, the BDFDDL slowly backed away from the car as The Reverend shouted, "What the FUCK are you doing to my car!? What the fuck is your problem, man?" The BDFDDL didn't say a word, as The Reverend shouted this refrain right in his grill, but comprehension slowly unfurled across the troglodyte's brow. Clearly he did not think the car belonged to The Reverend. He though he was bashing in someone else's car, someone who he didn't expect to come out that door, someone who would have been intimidated by him. Without uttering a word, the BDFDDL lurched into his truck idling in the alley, and drove away. The Reverend was angrily yelling at him through the closed truck door. The Reverend raised his bottle of beer, as if to throw it at the BDFDDL, and then thought better of it. He would rather drink it than waste it. Then, the BDFDDL drove away. Weird, huh? Well, you ain't heard the half of it. Literally. It's getting late, and DNA has to quit now. It will pick the second half of this story tomorrow or the next day.
But, here is a teaser: The Police mash someone's face up against a police cruiser's door. Someone gets his nose broken. Someone gets his ribs kicked in. Someone qualifies for the State of Illinois' victim's assistance fund. Stay tuned for one of the more fucked up things we lived through as a band.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/13/06
Busted Lips, Hospital Trips, That's What Recording Sessions Are Made Of...Part 2
As the BDFDDL drove away, we all kind of incredulously replayed what just happened. As we were trying to make sense of his senseless vandalism, the neighbors upstairs, yes the very guys we brutalized with our recording sessions, came down the side stairs and gave us some insight to what just happened.
Apparently,the BDFDDL knew these guys, and (again the details get kind of fuzzy) they were either room mates or something at some point in the past. It doesn't matter. What matters is that the BDFDDL got drunk, and tried to break into his old "friend's" house to settle up a bill. They wouldn't let him in. So, the BDFDDL decided he would show them, and started heaving rocks at the car he thought belonged to one of his "friends." The old room mates upstairs were justifiably upset, as this big hulking fucker tried to break into their place, so before the BDFDDL even started throwing rocks at the Reverend's car, the residents upstairs already called the police. The Reverend asked the neighbors upstairs to please let him know when the cops arrived, because he would add his complaint against the BDFDDL to theirs.
Well, we returned to the studio, laughed off the bizarre events, and decided that since it may take a while before the police show up, we could get some more recording done. As we ambled back into the studio, Ralph, who had been by the back door, said "Hey guys, you are not going to believe this. That guy is back, and he's got a truckload of guys with him."
Scott Munson said, "Close the door. They come in here and they are trespassing on commercial property. That's a felony." None of us knew whether that was bullshit or not, but it sounded pretty good to us. However, we didn't think that the BDFDDL cared about that. His crew jumped out of the back of the truck, looking pissed off. He stormed around the front of his truck and in a few bounds was at the back door. He grabbed the door and jerked it open.
As Scott Munson began to protest, the BDFDDL roared, "Which one of you fuckers threw the bottle at my truck!?"
Forgive me reader, If the DNA Vibrator digresses for a moment. At this exact moment, each of us in Crank, and Scott Munson, all by nature nonviolent, as DNA has said before, were face to face with a cunt whose philosophy of life was in direct conflict with ours. In that moment, being reasonable people, living in our safe worlds, none of us acted. We suffered from the curse of too much college education: we analyzed. We each thought, "I wonder why he is so angry," or "Oh, I see. This is some big mistake. He thinks The Reverend threw a bottle at his truck when he raised it up," or "Y'know, if we could just talk to the guy, he would understand," BUT, DNA is telling you now, as we were all thinking these things, we all saw the ugly hate in his eyes. He didn't care if The Reverend threw a bottle at his truck or not. That was just pretext. He was looking to kick somebody's ass, or asses, and went back to gather up his homies to spill some blood, pump up some testosterone, and prove who the men were around here.
The bottom line was, we didn't want to fight, and he did. Now, a little known fact about the Reverend, was that he was trained in martial arts, and DNA doesn't mean that he fake kicked along with Saturday morning cartoons. Again, DNA is hazy about the details, because The Reverend rarely talked about it, but he was quite skilled in whatever art it was that he was associated with. DNA brings this up now, because you need to know that at any time the Reverend could have beaten this guy into submission. But the Reverend is like few men DNA has had the pleasure to know. He's the guy you want next to you in the foxhole. He's the guy you can count on when shit is about to go down. And true to form for those people who are inwardly and outwardly strong, he would rather walk away from a fight than end one.
The BDFDDL was seething. He reached across the four intervening people, to point a meaty finger at The Reverend. "You, you ain't so fucking big now, are you? You and I are going to step outside and settle this."
Imagine you are now watching this scene unfold. The back door of the studio is connected to a narrow hallway about 10 feet long, before it opens onto the main mixing room. As you are looking in, Scott Munson is standing closest to the door on the left. DNA is standing next to him. Ralph is standing next to DNA. Dave is on the right side, bumping shoulder to shoulder with the BDFDDL. In the center of the hallway, between Ralph and Dave, is The Reverend. We were cramped tighter than a football huddle. So ,when BDFDDL reached out for The Reverend, he was literally only a foot or two away. DNA said, "Hey why don't we all just step back a second and take it easy. [The Reverend] didn't throw the bottle at your truck. It's right there on the table. If he," "Unless you want your teeth knocked out, you little faggot, you better shut the fuck up," BDFDDL said, as he thumped DNA in the chest.
Up to this point, everything had been yelling and pointing, but right then, BDFDDL put his hand on DNA. Everyone knew from this moment on, that this was going to end badly. Not because DNA is a badass. To DNA's shame at the time, the opposite is true. No, things were going to end badly, because we now knew the BDFDDL had no problem putting his hands on us, because he thought he had no need to fear us.
Frankly, DNA did not want to get beat on by this lummox, and if it could have backed away, it would have but it couldn't. The BDFDDL turned his attention quickly back to the Reverend. With a sharp jab, the BDFDDL punched the Reverend squarely in the nose. Blood flowed almost immediately. Scott Munson began to shout, "Get the fuck out!" over and over again, while the other band members closed ranks in front of the Reverend, but not before BDFDDL connected solidly with the Reverend's face again, breaking his glasses, and cutting his brow deeply. A huge hamfist brushed the nose of the DNA Vibrator, and connected solidly with Ralph's jaw. Dave was furiously attempting to restrain the BDFDDL, hold back one his his big arms, and also reach for the guitar hanging on the wall behind him. All of us were pushing him back as he was trying to claw his way in. While this was occurring, the BDFDDL began kicking Scott Munson. A solid kick to the stomach dropped him to the floor. He was kicked several more times, in the stomach and head. Scott never stopped yelling, and we continued to push the BDFDDL out of the building.
DNA has seen many things, but it is here to say that you did not want to see the look in the Reverend's eyes. He had taken the hardest shots this cocksucker could dish out, completely unprepared, and not only was he still standing, the one the BDFDDL wanted to exact his revenge against, the one who he had hurt the most, was now ready to fight.
You might be wondering what happened to the testosterone brigade who had hoppped out of the truck right behind the BDFDDL when he stormed in the back of the building. Although they initially seemed pretty supportive, as they saw and heard what transpired, they all kind of slunk back to the truck. We could see this through the back door. On one hand, DNA gives them credit, because they at least had some rational fucking sense, but on the other hand, DNA has always thought of them as the best example of what is really wrong with most people in our country. They were gutless, spineless wretches, not a fucking backbone in the lot of them, not a one willing to step up to their maniacal "friend" and try to stand up for what was right. Instead, they were willing to let the violence play out, something they had probably seen before from the big dumb cocksucker. Alas. What could they do? Feel bad, DNA guesses, was their answer, and be glad it isn't them on the receiving end of the BDFDDL's big right hand.
So, as the spineless gang were quietly retreating, as the BDFDDL was kicking and punching us at will, as Scott Munson was crawling along the floor trying to get away from the savage kicks, a miracle happened, an unlooked for event, a little detail that in the fury of the moment, we had all forgotten about. A police unit, responding to the complaint called in the the neighbors upstairs, had turned up the alley, and was slowly looking for the studio. Munson saw the car, which actually seemed at first to have missed the address and was going to drive on by. Munson screamed, "Police!" and found the strength to make it out of the building. He ran, hands waving, to the police cruiser. Just like out of the movies, he said, "Arrest that man! Arrest him!" He pointed in the direction of the BDFDDL. When the BDFDDL realized a police cruiser was stopped, he stopped, as if NOTHING HAD EVEN HAPPENED, and started to walk back to his truck. The spineless fuckers were already in the back and in the cab, trying to look as if just momments ago, they had not been the audience, with tacit acceptance of, this fucking maniac's rage.
The police initially did not know exactly to which camp it should be listening, but they were certainly looking at Scott Munson, who obviously had been kicked in the face, and looking at the big guy he was pointing to. At first, the BDFDDL tried to BLEND IN the crowd by his truck, but then he approached the police cruiser where Scott Munson stood. INCREDIBLY, the BDFDDL started to CRY, (DNA could NOT make this shit up) and wailed about how he was attacked by these guys here who threw a bottle at his truck as he happened to drive by. He had obviously been through this drill before, so convincing his act was, and the police at first didn't know what to do. They had been called there to investigate a possible break in, if you remember, not to mediate a disagreement or arrest a fuckhead for an unprovoked attack.
By this time, Ralph and DNA were already outside. The BDFDDL was crying by the police car, and a couple of the spineless fucks were talking to DNA and Ralph. "Dudes, he (BDFDDL) told us that six guys jumped him, and we were just here to help out a buddy." DNA said, "Thanks a fucking lot. Really appreciate all you did." The spineless fuck looked sheepish. He should have. They all were sheep. Back at the police car, Scott Munson was practically hysterical, because he couldn't believe that the BDFDDL was about to cry his way out of an arrest. That was, until the Reverend came out of the building.
Dave was walking with the Reverend, who had gathered himself up, and walked with a purpose to meet the BDFDDL. Before the Reverend realized the police were there, DNA believes his purpose was to beat the BDFDDL into the ground. There is no doubt, no matter how big this cocksucker was, the Reverend now had the frame of mind we all needed about three minutes previous. Kill. Pound this guy until he no longer moves, by any means necessary. However, as he strode out of the building, everyone stopped what they were doing. The BDFDDL stopped his crying. The police man stopped his conflict resolution training. The police saw the Reverend's face. Blood had soaked his shirt and hair. Blood was pouring freely from his nose, mouth, eye, and brow. He was bruised and swollen. Besides the Reverend's blood, the BDFDDL was unmarked. Yet, it was the Reverend who walked with poise and strength. The police looked at the Reverend and said, "Who did this?" the Reverend said calmly, "Him," and pointed to the BDFDDL. The BDFDDL had started to slink away from the policeman at this time. However, from the other side of the car, another officer, a former Mr. SIU bodybuilder, a man of truly epic proportion, quickly walked around the car. "You, stop." The BDFDDL froze, and for a moment, you could see the look in his eye, the look that any who has ever been a victim of random violence wants to see. You could see fear in his face, fear from realizing here was a man to whom the BDFDDL's physical size and temper would mean nothing, and if he truly wanted, could beat the BDFDDL into submission without breaking a sweat. For a moment,the BDFDDL acted out of desperation, and tried to get away. In seconds, he was pushed hard against the door of the police cruiser, and put into a submission hold.
Carbondale is a small world. It so happened that the former Mr. SIU knew Scott Munson, and knew of the Reverend. There was no more need for conflict resolution, just what charges were going to be pressed. The BDFDDL was handcuffed, his pussy friends were questioned, and an ambulance was called to take the Reverend to the hospital. The Reverend spent the night in the hospital, Scott Munson was treated and released, while the rest of us licked our wounds and spent a sleepless night pondering what ifs. What if the neighbors hadn't called the cops? What if the BDFDDL had greviously injured the Reverend permanently? Why didn't we drop that cocksucker as soon as he got up in our house and talked shit?
This event changed each of us in different ways. DNA for one, came to understand the limitations civilization puts on us when we trust it to take care of us. We all assume that everyone else will follow the same rules. But, everyone doesn't. At any time, someone may have a screw loose and want to use your face to put it back in its place. You may be just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or, perhaps you may look like an easy target. Perhaps you get mistaken for someone else. In the end, it doesn't matter. DNA resolved never to be caught in that situation again. Even if it meant getting the fuck beat out of it, DNA would never be a victim and watch while the tool and his friends were hurt. We learned to protect each other. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for I am the baddest motherfucker in the valley."
DNA does not look like the type, but it would take whatever steps were necessary if you threatened the tool, his family, or his friends.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/20/06
My Very Special-est Musical-ickinest Influences From My Kinder-hood.
DNA has found that since it has been working on a new album, and the work just keeps fucking coming, that there are many musical influences which are expressing themselves, influences which DNA realizes are very deep. If you were to ask DNA, or if you happen to know DNA, you would see that old school influences on the The DNA Vibrator include DEVO, The Police, The Clash, The Sex Pistols, Fugazi, Bad Brains, The Ramones, Blondie, etc. Not so old school influences would include Rollins Band, Alice In Chains, Matthew Sweet, old Van Halen, Primus, Ween, Cake, etc. New school influences would include everything from Fiona Apple to Rob Zombie to Gnarls Barkley. However, the really, REALLY old school, the remedial musical education DNA got while listening to records while he was just a sweet lil toddler, included terrific Americana like Johnny Cash, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Roger Miller, Willie Nelson, Doc Watson, and Patsy Cline, to name a few. Oh, there was one strange trip to Wisconsin in which Dad was so excited about the new car he bought with an installed 8-track, that we listened to the two eight track tapes he got as a "bonus" when he bought the car. One was great: "Johnny Cash Live at Folsom Prison," the other, not so much: Neil Diamond's Hits, yes, plural, which included "My Baby Does The Hanky-Panky," (scandalous) and "Sweet Caroline." So DNA was exposed to the best and worst of music early in its current existence. Also, it grew up in the midwest, which meant that the nearest high power radio station was almost 300 miles away, WLS, in Chicago. WLS was a great rock and roll education.
So, there are several covers that have worked their way into this project. The first was a cover of "Folsom Prison." Three years ago, DNA had the idea of turning "Folsom Prison" into its bitch, which it has certainly done. However, you will have to wait to hear it until after Warner Unichappell agrees to allow DNA the mechanical rights to put the song out. Next, "Ghost Riders in the Sky" was completed, and it is also the shit, if The DNA Vibrator says so itself. The song, "Sandman," by America, will also make an appearance, along with the song, "16 Tons." If it gets the time, DNA will also finish its rendition of "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire." As far as DNA is concerned, every album should have a Christmas song on it. Fuck it, why not?
DNA is also considering doing a cover of "Jerking Back and Forth," and or "Mr. B's Ballroom," by DEVO, "No One Lives Forever," by Oingo Boingo, and just maybe "Justify," by Madonna. Do you want to be part of the DNA vibrators musical experience? If so, email me with your request. If it is something DNA can twist its stubby little fingers around, it will certainly attempt to throttle it.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/22/06
Re-unification.
Yesterday was a banner day. Through careful scheduling and luck, The Hand of God Attachment was able to drop by the studio and create some Christmas magic with The DNA Vibrator. No, you sick fuckers, not gay Christmas magic, rock and roll Christmas magic. He laid down a raunchy guitar part to the song, "The Three Deaths of Juan Belmonte." It was originally an instrumental, but will likely evolve into a song with some lyrics. The chorus music was based on a chant the guys in CRANK did years ago: "Three deaths, of Juan Bel-mon-te" over and over again. No, we did not know what it meant, exactly, except that it was taken from a Time-Life book article entitled, "The Three Deaths of Juan Belmonte." Who was Juan Belmonte? Friend of Ernest Hemmingway, yes, famous Spanish Torreador who reinvented the stance and attitude of bullfighters, sure, exited the world by way of the self-inflicted shotgun blast to the face, like his pal, Hemmingway, of course, but who was he, really? That's what the song tries to answer.
Also, in true Christmas spirit, Ralph, one of the collaborators of The DNA Vibrator, sent DNA an email of some song lyrics. Ralph said that he had DNA in mind when he wrote them. The song is entitled, "You Say Christmas, I Say Fuck It," and although DNA will not be able to get the song done by Christmas, as soon as the tool read the lyrics, DNA had written the music. It captures the dissatisfaction most of us have experienced with Christmas commercialism, bad family get togethers and the general un-christian attitude so many so called christians take, say, when having to fight over a parking spot in the Wal Mart parking lot. The song lyrics were the best Christmas present DNA has gotten in a long time. Thanks, Ralph.
The Reverend made an appearance at his old stomping grounds today, that is, Carbondale, IL, but because the tool had the day off of work, DNA and The Reverend missed each other. That's okay. The Reverend will just have to hug on The Hand of God Attachment to get a little HIT of that DNA Vibrator smell.
Also, as The Hand of God Attachment and DNA were talking music yesterday, DNA mentioned that the CRANK studio assault experience was the topic of DNA's blog posts over the last few days. The Hand of God Attachment pointed out (and when The Hand of God Attachment points, watch yer fucking eyes and anything else that could be smote) that he wasn't actually there. To which, DNA said, " You know, DNA is not going to let the facts stand in the way of you being there. DNA remembered that you couldn't make it that night. But, you WERE there in spirit. Fuck it. The story, the TRUTH of the experience, feels better with you there." The Hand of God Attachment replied, "People need to know that I wasn't there. I was too busy arranging to have the BDFDDL give The Reverend the beating he deserved"(for those of you who haven't read the previous posts, that acronym stands for Big Dumb Fucking Douchebag Dick Licker---the guy who beat us up). You can't argue with The Hand of God Attachment. The Hand of God Attachment is not bound by our morality or law. It is its own law. DNA pays homage and respect to The Hand of God Attachment. If DNA didn't, who else would play the kick ass guitar solos for its music? Okay, lots of people could, but who else would do it for FREE? So, in the spirit of accuracy, at the expense of drama, you need to know that Dave was not reaching to get a guitar off of the wall while The Reverend was getting punched in the face, oh, those many years ago. However, The Hand of God Attachment, yet to be recognized in its physical form, WAS present that night, and in the memory of the tool, was like our defense's 12th man. Of course, it was a 12th man who should have stayed at the JuCo instead of transferring to a Division 1 school, but IT WAS THERE NONETHELESS. There is no disputing that fact.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/25/06
Merry Christmas?
DNA questions christianity as an effective religion, but does not question the overall benefit that Christmas gives us as a nation. In the end, even when the balance sheet includes such negatives as hypocrites draining money from old peoples' savings, those who are morally corrupt preaching hate to others whom they deem morally corrupt, an unstated governmental policy of divine right when it comes to our military strategy, all of those BIG "christian" negatives are still outweighed by the individuals who pour out love from the goodness of their individual hearts, especially on Christmas. Two of DNA's family, the tool's sister-in-law and her husband, are doctors. On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, they worked extended shifts in an emergency room. First, they worked feverishly on a person whose life ebbed away from them faster than they could stitch. Then, a traumatic gunshot wound victim kept them from celebrating a "regular" Christmas with each other. Not even for one moment could they look at each other over the last 24 hours without someone else's blood on them. Yet, while they were on duty, a woman came in and they helped deliver her Christmas baby. While she was in labor, her two other children were waiting in a room not far from the birthing room. DNA's sister-in-law talked to the children and asked what they were going to get for Christmas this year. They informed her that Santa missed them last year because they were living in a homeless shelter. They were afraid that Santa would not be able to find them again this year because they were at the hospital. DNA's sister-in-law said that she was sure that Santa knew how to find kids at the hospital. She spent most of her little free time finding other staff at the hospital who, between them, had presents there, with them, in the trunks of their cars, for example, that they would be taking home after their shifts. She was able to convince them to give some of their presents to these kids.
Sometimes that's all it takes. One little ray of hope. Now some of you might think that DNA made this Hallmark shit up to tug at your heart strings. For what purpose? DNA doesn't care if you like Christmas or the tool's sister-in-law or not. This happened. This is dirty, low, life, when a family is out on their luck and most of society does not care about them unless they are forced to care about them. That's why you needed to hear this story. Guess what happened when DNA's mother-in-law heard the story from her daughter? She wondered what business did a homeless mother of two have getting pregnant and having another baby in the first place. So, which are you? The one that rounds up presents for the kids, or the one that chastises the mother? Really?
Merry Christmas.
September archive quote: "611 Pizza was like the bar, Cheers, except with a lot more tattoos, leather, black make-up, puking, pot smoking, and hardcore music." Look it up here.
October archive quote: "Because so many of you have come unbidden to look at The DNA Vibrator, The DNA Vibrator has come to realize that some of you may need The DNA Vibrator, the way punk needs bitch." Look it up here.
November archive quote: "Tips For The Traveling Band. TIP #8: Don't finance your other band member's equipment with a high interest rate charge card, no matter how fucking much you love each other." Look it up here.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/01/06
Working on a New Album.
In a flurry throughout the month of November, The DNA Vibrator has written and recorded, or salvaged and remastered 13 songs for a new recording, and its just getting started. It was going to call the new disc "The Return of the Purple-headed Stranger," but it has changed its mind.
It was going to call it that because, no bullshit, 10 years ago, DNA announced to the local entertainment rag that it was going to put out a new album, reeaal soon, called ROTPHS. I guess from a geologic perspective, 10 years is just a drop in the bucket, so DNA felt obligated to call it that. The title was funny enough, sure, in fact a cheap joke at the "vibrator" aspect of the band's name, and although The DNA Vibrator is not above cheap shots at its own expense, the songs didn't fit that title. The songs came from a slightly more mature place than ROTPHS. In fact, the best name DNA could think of for the collection is the same as the title of the home page of this website: "The Shape of Things to Have Come and Gone." [editor's note: the old blog was called "The Shape of Things to Have Come and Gone." The new one, is of course, the much cooler, "Twin Rockets Are A Go, Baby!"] Since many of the songs are about the family DNA has lost and the family DNA is raising, it seemed very apropo.
DNA is not for sure what it is going to do with the CD. It may distribute it through CD Baby a great source for independent musicians to distribute their works nationally, it may sell it through this website, or it may give it away as free downloads to anyone who wants it on this website. DNA is not in it for the money. Its always been for the chicks and the drugs.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/09/06
New album is either done or one half of a double CD
13 is a magic number. Its the number of songs which seems appropriate for this disc. Its the number that gets you in and out of the CD in under 45 minutes. It gives the best emotional roller coaster while listening. Any more and DNA gets bored. But, there are about 10 more songs that are ready to be recorded, or nearing that point. Based on some input from old friends, like the Hand of God Attachment, DNA will decide soon whether this will be a one disc or a two disc recording. Why not? Sometimes you have to strike while the iron is hot. Something in this feels to DNA like desperation. What if this is the last hurrah? What if after this, there is no more creative juice? If so, then DNA wants to out with a mother fucking BANG.
It will likely be in DNA's best interest to wait until after Christmas break to release anything to the local press. In Carbondale, when the students leave SIU for break, everything kind of retreats back into southern Illinois. Also, DNA is waiting to hear back from HFA (Harry Fox Agency) to secure the mechanical rights to a cover song it wants to put on the record.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/11/06
Back on the Political Front
Last month, because The DNA Vibrator has grown accustomed to writing only for its own sake, it wrote letters regarding our country's involvement in Iraq to the President, and to its local senators, Barack Obama and Dick Durbin. Look back here to see the letter, and the first response DNA got back. It was from the President of the United States. Of course it was a form letter, no, a form email, even lower, which likely put DNA on some kind of watch list. Smart, huh?
Next, look at the response DNA got back from senator Obama this week. Probably a form too, but honest to God, DNA thinks that a person, maybe even the senator saw it. You read, and you be the judge.
Dear XXXX(DNA can't simply give you its alias. That ruins the fiction!):
Thank you for writing to share your thoughts about the Iraq War. I appreciate hearing from you, and believe that we can do better in seeking an end to this conflict.
On November 20th, I gave a speech to the Chicago Council on Global Affairs detailing my views on the changes that need to be made. I have enclosed a copy of that speech for your review. [click here if you want to read it. DNA thought it actually made some sense.] I hope you will continue to share your thoughts with me as developments occur.
Thank you again for writing.
Sincerely,
Barack Obama
United States Senator
P.S. Our system does not allow direct response to this email. However, if you would like to contact me again, please use the form on the website: http://obama.senate.gov/contact/
For that, DNA probably got put on a hit this sap up for contributions list. But like DNA said in the last political post, we'll see what the different politicians are made of based on their responses. So far, Obama appears to care if DNA votes in the next presidential election.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/12/06
Busted Lips, Hospital Trips, That's What Recording Sessions Are Made Of...
The DNA Vibrator doesn't like to brag, but during its heyday, it was practically living in the recording studio. When you consider all of its studio ventures were creatively funded (student loans, equipment trades, studio work for others, saved up gig money, money made from house parties, hittin' up the parents cuz of a forgotten college "fee")that feat is pretty amazing, because the studio isn't cheap. If music is the high, if playing out live is the drug, then the studio is the safehouse you can go to to keep from getting busted by the cops. The difference in this analogy is that this particular safehouse charges anywhere from $20.00 to $200.00 an hour for you to stay there. Musicians like The DNA Vibrator would do about anything to keep itself in the studio. Like the song says, "Spent our 20's in and out of half a dozen different bands. Spent our money in the studio like each dollar was a grain of sand." Man, did we ever.
Was it worth it? Of course it was. What else would we have spent it on? Books? Booze? Ass? Music certainly trumps those useful, but not necessary, trifles. In the course of many trips to the studio, we became close friends with Scott Munson, a terrific film-maker, who was spending his time in Carbondale cultivating the atmosphere in which his band, IT, could breathe. He figured that he would be here until he got his big break, or until he finished his master's thesis, a moving piece which incorporated time lapse photography of the area outside of Yellowstone Park which he had shot over many years. If you wanna know more about Scott, he currently works as the sound engineer at the House of Blues in San Diego. His band, IT, is on semi-permanent hiatus, but produced some good music. DNA helped do some studio work on their second unreleased project with Scott and his good friend, Todd Freeman, an amazing guitarist. See how we're all just an inbred happy little family!
Well, while Scott was doing his time in Carbondale, he became a sought after sound engineer. He worked for Soundcore music, run by Carbondale native and music scene fixture, Joe C. The band Crank worked with Scott many times, in live sound situations, and in the studio. We planned for several months what we would need to do to get in the studio, and booked several sessions. The initial recording, brutally loud, frenetic, exploring many techniques that we were both learning on the fly, was completed about this time of year, back in 1993. After we finished, Scott went on his winter break from school and Carbondale, and we played several shows over the holidays. It gave us time to listen to what we had done, and figure ways to improve some tracks that had shortcomings.
We scheduled several more trips into the studio. One early spring night, The Reverend, Ralph, Dave, and The DNA Vibrator all met Scott Munson at Soundcore studio to re-do the vocal tracks on a song titled "Not Like Me." The Reverend and DNA were there with Scott Munson early, working on some stuff, and then were joined by the rest of the crew later. Now, forgive The DNA Vibrator if its memory is fading, but the events of that night have kind of blurred together. At some point, The Reverend had taken a break from laying down new vocal tracks, and was enjoying a beer. We all had taken a break for our favorite recreational drugs,(DNA is not trying to sound cool---for most of us, that was beer), when The Reverend heard something outside, and then noticed some guy by his old beat up Mustang. Then he noticed what the guy was doing. "What the fuck!" the Reverend yelled. Some motherfucker is outside throwing big fucking rocks at my car!" He tossed open the back door of the studio he was looking through, with each of us following up behind. We were not exactly sure if what we heard him say was what we heard him say, so we were not sure what we might find, but we knew The Reverend was shocked about something, and it took quite a bit to get him angry. Sure enough, there was this big motherfucker, hefting up cinder blocks and throwing them up against the side of The Reverend's car and window glass.
Now, before we go further, DNA needs to set this stage a little better. The back door of the studio opens up onto a hard to get to, very small, private parking lot for people at the studio, and believe it or not, for the poor bastards who rented the apartment above the studio. It was only accessible from an alley, and was not even visible from the nearest main crossroad. There was a streetlight on the corner, but large parts of the lot and back of the studio were in darkness. It is not a place you expect to see a linebacker demolishing a car. And this guy, let's call him Craig "I'm a big dumb fucking neanderthal" T.......no, no, you fucker, you don't get the limelight. DNA won't use your real name. For the sake of the story, let's just call him "the big dumb fucking douchebag dick licker," or the BDFDDL for short. Well the BDFDDL actually WAS big, a cornfed backwoods sister-humping frankenstein of a bitch. Knowing absolutely no fear, however, The Reverend came right up on him. The BDFDDL kind of looked surprised, like a bear might if someone stumbled upon it after goring a child. Faced with this uncertain and unplanned for contingency, the BDFDDL slowly backed away from the car as The Reverend shouted, "What the FUCK are you doing to my car!? What the fuck is your problem, man?" The BDFDDL didn't say a word, as The Reverend shouted this refrain right in his grill, but comprehension slowly unfurled across the troglodyte's brow. Clearly he did not think the car belonged to The Reverend. He though he was bashing in someone else's car, someone who he didn't expect to come out that door, someone who would have been intimidated by him. Without uttering a word, the BDFDDL lurched into his truck idling in the alley, and drove away. The Reverend was angrily yelling at him through the closed truck door. The Reverend raised his bottle of beer, as if to throw it at the BDFDDL, and then thought better of it. He would rather drink it than waste it. Then, the BDFDDL drove away. Weird, huh? Well, you ain't heard the half of it. Literally. It's getting late, and DNA has to quit now. It will pick the second half of this story tomorrow or the next day.
But, here is a teaser: The Police mash someone's face up against a police cruiser's door. Someone gets his nose broken. Someone gets his ribs kicked in. Someone qualifies for the State of Illinois' victim's assistance fund. Stay tuned for one of the more fucked up things we lived through as a band.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/13/06
Busted Lips, Hospital Trips, That's What Recording Sessions Are Made Of...Part 2
As the BDFDDL drove away, we all kind of incredulously replayed what just happened. As we were trying to make sense of his senseless vandalism, the neighbors upstairs, yes the very guys we brutalized with our recording sessions, came down the side stairs and gave us some insight to what just happened.
Apparently,the BDFDDL knew these guys, and (again the details get kind of fuzzy) they were either room mates or something at some point in the past. It doesn't matter. What matters is that the BDFDDL got drunk, and tried to break into his old "friend's" house to settle up a bill. They wouldn't let him in. So, the BDFDDL decided he would show them, and started heaving rocks at the car he thought belonged to one of his "friends." The old room mates upstairs were justifiably upset, as this big hulking fucker tried to break into their place, so before the BDFDDL even started throwing rocks at the Reverend's car, the residents upstairs already called the police. The Reverend asked the neighbors upstairs to please let him know when the cops arrived, because he would add his complaint against the BDFDDL to theirs.
Well, we returned to the studio, laughed off the bizarre events, and decided that since it may take a while before the police show up, we could get some more recording done. As we ambled back into the studio, Ralph, who had been by the back door, said "Hey guys, you are not going to believe this. That guy is back, and he's got a truckload of guys with him."
Scott Munson said, "Close the door. They come in here and they are trespassing on commercial property. That's a felony." None of us knew whether that was bullshit or not, but it sounded pretty good to us. However, we didn't think that the BDFDDL cared about that. His crew jumped out of the back of the truck, looking pissed off. He stormed around the front of his truck and in a few bounds was at the back door. He grabbed the door and jerked it open.
As Scott Munson began to protest, the BDFDDL roared, "Which one of you fuckers threw the bottle at my truck!?"
Forgive me reader, If the DNA Vibrator digresses for a moment. At this exact moment, each of us in Crank, and Scott Munson, all by nature nonviolent, as DNA has said before, were face to face with a cunt whose philosophy of life was in direct conflict with ours. In that moment, being reasonable people, living in our safe worlds, none of us acted. We suffered from the curse of too much college education: we analyzed. We each thought, "I wonder why he is so angry," or "Oh, I see. This is some big mistake. He thinks The Reverend threw a bottle at his truck when he raised it up," or "Y'know, if we could just talk to the guy, he would understand," BUT, DNA is telling you now, as we were all thinking these things, we all saw the ugly hate in his eyes. He didn't care if The Reverend threw a bottle at his truck or not. That was just pretext. He was looking to kick somebody's ass, or asses, and went back to gather up his homies to spill some blood, pump up some testosterone, and prove who the men were around here.
The bottom line was, we didn't want to fight, and he did. Now, a little known fact about the Reverend, was that he was trained in martial arts, and DNA doesn't mean that he fake kicked along with Saturday morning cartoons. Again, DNA is hazy about the details, because The Reverend rarely talked about it, but he was quite skilled in whatever art it was that he was associated with. DNA brings this up now, because you need to know that at any time the Reverend could have beaten this guy into submission. But the Reverend is like few men DNA has had the pleasure to know. He's the guy you want next to you in the foxhole. He's the guy you can count on when shit is about to go down. And true to form for those people who are inwardly and outwardly strong, he would rather walk away from a fight than end one.
The BDFDDL was seething. He reached across the four intervening people, to point a meaty finger at The Reverend. "You, you ain't so fucking big now, are you? You and I are going to step outside and settle this."
Imagine you are now watching this scene unfold. The back door of the studio is connected to a narrow hallway about 10 feet long, before it opens onto the main mixing room. As you are looking in, Scott Munson is standing closest to the door on the left. DNA is standing next to him. Ralph is standing next to DNA. Dave is on the right side, bumping shoulder to shoulder with the BDFDDL. In the center of the hallway, between Ralph and Dave, is The Reverend. We were cramped tighter than a football huddle. So ,when BDFDDL reached out for The Reverend, he was literally only a foot or two away. DNA said, "Hey why don't we all just step back a second and take it easy. [The Reverend] didn't throw the bottle at your truck. It's right there on the table. If he," "Unless you want your teeth knocked out, you little faggot, you better shut the fuck up," BDFDDL said, as he thumped DNA in the chest.
Up to this point, everything had been yelling and pointing, but right then, BDFDDL put his hand on DNA. Everyone knew from this moment on, that this was going to end badly. Not because DNA is a badass. To DNA's shame at the time, the opposite is true. No, things were going to end badly, because we now knew the BDFDDL had no problem putting his hands on us, because he thought he had no need to fear us.
Frankly, DNA did not want to get beat on by this lummox, and if it could have backed away, it would have but it couldn't. The BDFDDL turned his attention quickly back to the Reverend. With a sharp jab, the BDFDDL punched the Reverend squarely in the nose. Blood flowed almost immediately. Scott Munson began to shout, "Get the fuck out!" over and over again, while the other band members closed ranks in front of the Reverend, but not before BDFDDL connected solidly with the Reverend's face again, breaking his glasses, and cutting his brow deeply. A huge hamfist brushed the nose of the DNA Vibrator, and connected solidly with Ralph's jaw. Dave was furiously attempting to restrain the BDFDDL, hold back one his his big arms, and also reach for the guitar hanging on the wall behind him. All of us were pushing him back as he was trying to claw his way in. While this was occurring, the BDFDDL began kicking Scott Munson. A solid kick to the stomach dropped him to the floor. He was kicked several more times, in the stomach and head. Scott never stopped yelling, and we continued to push the BDFDDL out of the building.
DNA has seen many things, but it is here to say that you did not want to see the look in the Reverend's eyes. He had taken the hardest shots this cocksucker could dish out, completely unprepared, and not only was he still standing, the one the BDFDDL wanted to exact his revenge against, the one who he had hurt the most, was now ready to fight.
You might be wondering what happened to the testosterone brigade who had hoppped out of the truck right behind the BDFDDL when he stormed in the back of the building. Although they initially seemed pretty supportive, as they saw and heard what transpired, they all kind of slunk back to the truck. We could see this through the back door. On one hand, DNA gives them credit, because they at least had some rational fucking sense, but on the other hand, DNA has always thought of them as the best example of what is really wrong with most people in our country. They were gutless, spineless wretches, not a fucking backbone in the lot of them, not a one willing to step up to their maniacal "friend" and try to stand up for what was right. Instead, they were willing to let the violence play out, something they had probably seen before from the big dumb cocksucker. Alas. What could they do? Feel bad, DNA guesses, was their answer, and be glad it isn't them on the receiving end of the BDFDDL's big right hand.
So, as the spineless gang were quietly retreating, as the BDFDDL was kicking and punching us at will, as Scott Munson was crawling along the floor trying to get away from the savage kicks, a miracle happened, an unlooked for event, a little detail that in the fury of the moment, we had all forgotten about. A police unit, responding to the complaint called in the the neighbors upstairs, had turned up the alley, and was slowly looking for the studio. Munson saw the car, which actually seemed at first to have missed the address and was going to drive on by. Munson screamed, "Police!" and found the strength to make it out of the building. He ran, hands waving, to the police cruiser. Just like out of the movies, he said, "Arrest that man! Arrest him!" He pointed in the direction of the BDFDDL. When the BDFDDL realized a police cruiser was stopped, he stopped, as if NOTHING HAD EVEN HAPPENED, and started to walk back to his truck. The spineless fuckers were already in the back and in the cab, trying to look as if just momments ago, they had not been the audience, with tacit acceptance of, this fucking maniac's rage.
The police initially did not know exactly to which camp it should be listening, but they were certainly looking at Scott Munson, who obviously had been kicked in the face, and looking at the big guy he was pointing to. At first, the BDFDDL tried to BLEND IN the crowd by his truck, but then he approached the police cruiser where Scott Munson stood. INCREDIBLY, the BDFDDL started to CRY, (DNA could NOT make this shit up) and wailed about how he was attacked by these guys here who threw a bottle at his truck as he happened to drive by. He had obviously been through this drill before, so convincing his act was, and the police at first didn't know what to do. They had been called there to investigate a possible break in, if you remember, not to mediate a disagreement or arrest a fuckhead for an unprovoked attack.
By this time, Ralph and DNA were already outside. The BDFDDL was crying by the police car, and a couple of the spineless fucks were talking to DNA and Ralph. "Dudes, he (BDFDDL) told us that six guys jumped him, and we were just here to help out a buddy." DNA said, "Thanks a fucking lot. Really appreciate all you did." The spineless fuck looked sheepish. He should have. They all were sheep. Back at the police car, Scott Munson was practically hysterical, because he couldn't believe that the BDFDDL was about to cry his way out of an arrest. That was, until the Reverend came out of the building.
Dave was walking with the Reverend, who had gathered himself up, and walked with a purpose to meet the BDFDDL. Before the Reverend realized the police were there, DNA believes his purpose was to beat the BDFDDL into the ground. There is no doubt, no matter how big this cocksucker was, the Reverend now had the frame of mind we all needed about three minutes previous. Kill. Pound this guy until he no longer moves, by any means necessary. However, as he strode out of the building, everyone stopped what they were doing. The BDFDDL stopped his crying. The police man stopped his conflict resolution training. The police saw the Reverend's face. Blood had soaked his shirt and hair. Blood was pouring freely from his nose, mouth, eye, and brow. He was bruised and swollen. Besides the Reverend's blood, the BDFDDL was unmarked. Yet, it was the Reverend who walked with poise and strength. The police looked at the Reverend and said, "Who did this?" the Reverend said calmly, "Him," and pointed to the BDFDDL. The BDFDDL had started to slink away from the policeman at this time. However, from the other side of the car, another officer, a former Mr. SIU bodybuilder, a man of truly epic proportion, quickly walked around the car. "You, stop." The BDFDDL froze, and for a moment, you could see the look in his eye, the look that any who has ever been a victim of random violence wants to see. You could see fear in his face, fear from realizing here was a man to whom the BDFDDL's physical size and temper would mean nothing, and if he truly wanted, could beat the BDFDDL into submission without breaking a sweat. For a moment,the BDFDDL acted out of desperation, and tried to get away. In seconds, he was pushed hard against the door of the police cruiser, and put into a submission hold.
Carbondale is a small world. It so happened that the former Mr. SIU knew Scott Munson, and knew of the Reverend. There was no more need for conflict resolution, just what charges were going to be pressed. The BDFDDL was handcuffed, his pussy friends were questioned, and an ambulance was called to take the Reverend to the hospital. The Reverend spent the night in the hospital, Scott Munson was treated and released, while the rest of us licked our wounds and spent a sleepless night pondering what ifs. What if the neighbors hadn't called the cops? What if the BDFDDL had greviously injured the Reverend permanently? Why didn't we drop that cocksucker as soon as he got up in our house and talked shit?
This event changed each of us in different ways. DNA for one, came to understand the limitations civilization puts on us when we trust it to take care of us. We all assume that everyone else will follow the same rules. But, everyone doesn't. At any time, someone may have a screw loose and want to use your face to put it back in its place. You may be just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or, perhaps you may look like an easy target. Perhaps you get mistaken for someone else. In the end, it doesn't matter. DNA resolved never to be caught in that situation again. Even if it meant getting the fuck beat out of it, DNA would never be a victim and watch while the tool and his friends were hurt. We learned to protect each other. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for I am the baddest motherfucker in the valley."
DNA does not look like the type, but it would take whatever steps were necessary if you threatened the tool, his family, or his friends.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/20/06
My Very Special-est Musical-ickinest Influences From My Kinder-hood.
DNA has found that since it has been working on a new album, and the work just keeps fucking coming, that there are many musical influences which are expressing themselves, influences which DNA realizes are very deep. If you were to ask DNA, or if you happen to know DNA, you would see that old school influences on the The DNA Vibrator include DEVO, The Police, The Clash, The Sex Pistols, Fugazi, Bad Brains, The Ramones, Blondie, etc. Not so old school influences would include Rollins Band, Alice In Chains, Matthew Sweet, old Van Halen, Primus, Ween, Cake, etc. New school influences would include everything from Fiona Apple to Rob Zombie to Gnarls Barkley. However, the really, REALLY old school, the remedial musical education DNA got while listening to records while he was just a sweet lil toddler, included terrific Americana like Johnny Cash, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Roger Miller, Willie Nelson, Doc Watson, and Patsy Cline, to name a few. Oh, there was one strange trip to Wisconsin in which Dad was so excited about the new car he bought with an installed 8-track, that we listened to the two eight track tapes he got as a "bonus" when he bought the car. One was great: "Johnny Cash Live at Folsom Prison," the other, not so much: Neil Diamond's Hits, yes, plural, which included "My Baby Does The Hanky-Panky," (scandalous) and "Sweet Caroline." So DNA was exposed to the best and worst of music early in its current existence. Also, it grew up in the midwest, which meant that the nearest high power radio station was almost 300 miles away, WLS, in Chicago. WLS was a great rock and roll education.
So, there are several covers that have worked their way into this project. The first was a cover of "Folsom Prison." Three years ago, DNA had the idea of turning "Folsom Prison" into its bitch, which it has certainly done. However, you will have to wait to hear it until after Warner Unichappell agrees to allow DNA the mechanical rights to put the song out. Next, "Ghost Riders in the Sky" was completed, and it is also the shit, if The DNA Vibrator says so itself. The song, "Sandman," by America, will also make an appearance, along with the song, "16 Tons." If it gets the time, DNA will also finish its rendition of "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire." As far as DNA is concerned, every album should have a Christmas song on it. Fuck it, why not?
DNA is also considering doing a cover of "Jerking Back and Forth," and or "Mr. B's Ballroom," by DEVO, "No One Lives Forever," by Oingo Boingo, and just maybe "Justify," by Madonna. Do you want to be part of the DNA vibrators musical experience? If so, email me with your request. If it is something DNA can twist its stubby little fingers around, it will certainly attempt to throttle it.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/22/06
Re-unification.
Yesterday was a banner day. Through careful scheduling and luck, The Hand of God Attachment was able to drop by the studio and create some Christmas magic with The DNA Vibrator. No, you sick fuckers, not gay Christmas magic, rock and roll Christmas magic. He laid down a raunchy guitar part to the song, "The Three Deaths of Juan Belmonte." It was originally an instrumental, but will likely evolve into a song with some lyrics. The chorus music was based on a chant the guys in CRANK did years ago: "Three deaths, of Juan Bel-mon-te" over and over again. No, we did not know what it meant, exactly, except that it was taken from a Time-Life book article entitled, "The Three Deaths of Juan Belmonte." Who was Juan Belmonte? Friend of Ernest Hemmingway, yes, famous Spanish Torreador who reinvented the stance and attitude of bullfighters, sure, exited the world by way of the self-inflicted shotgun blast to the face, like his pal, Hemmingway, of course, but who was he, really? That's what the song tries to answer.
Also, in true Christmas spirit, Ralph, one of the collaborators of The DNA Vibrator, sent DNA an email of some song lyrics. Ralph said that he had DNA in mind when he wrote them. The song is entitled, "You Say Christmas, I Say Fuck It," and although DNA will not be able to get the song done by Christmas, as soon as the tool read the lyrics, DNA had written the music. It captures the dissatisfaction most of us have experienced with Christmas commercialism, bad family get togethers and the general un-christian attitude so many so called christians take, say, when having to fight over a parking spot in the Wal Mart parking lot. The song lyrics were the best Christmas present DNA has gotten in a long time. Thanks, Ralph.
The Reverend made an appearance at his old stomping grounds today, that is, Carbondale, IL, but because the tool had the day off of work, DNA and The Reverend missed each other. That's okay. The Reverend will just have to hug on The Hand of God Attachment to get a little HIT of that DNA Vibrator smell.
Also, as The Hand of God Attachment and DNA were talking music yesterday, DNA mentioned that the CRANK studio assault experience was the topic of DNA's blog posts over the last few days. The Hand of God Attachment pointed out (and when The Hand of God Attachment points, watch yer fucking eyes and anything else that could be smote) that he wasn't actually there. To which, DNA said, " You know, DNA is not going to let the facts stand in the way of you being there. DNA remembered that you couldn't make it that night. But, you WERE there in spirit. Fuck it. The story, the TRUTH of the experience, feels better with you there." The Hand of God Attachment replied, "People need to know that I wasn't there. I was too busy arranging to have the BDFDDL give The Reverend the beating he deserved"(for those of you who haven't read the previous posts, that acronym stands for Big Dumb Fucking Douchebag Dick Licker---the guy who beat us up). You can't argue with The Hand of God Attachment. The Hand of God Attachment is not bound by our morality or law. It is its own law. DNA pays homage and respect to The Hand of God Attachment. If DNA didn't, who else would play the kick ass guitar solos for its music? Okay, lots of people could, but who else would do it for FREE? So, in the spirit of accuracy, at the expense of drama, you need to know that Dave was not reaching to get a guitar off of the wall while The Reverend was getting punched in the face, oh, those many years ago. However, The Hand of God Attachment, yet to be recognized in its physical form, WAS present that night, and in the memory of the tool, was like our defense's 12th man. Of course, it was a 12th man who should have stayed at the JuCo instead of transferring to a Division 1 school, but IT WAS THERE NONETHELESS. There is no disputing that fact.
Permanent Historical Record: 12/25/06
Merry Christmas?
DNA questions christianity as an effective religion, but does not question the overall benefit that Christmas gives us as a nation. In the end, even when the balance sheet includes such negatives as hypocrites draining money from old peoples' savings, those who are morally corrupt preaching hate to others whom they deem morally corrupt, an unstated governmental policy of divine right when it comes to our military strategy, all of those BIG "christian" negatives are still outweighed by the individuals who pour out love from the goodness of their individual hearts, especially on Christmas. Two of DNA's family, the tool's sister-in-law and her husband, are doctors. On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, they worked extended shifts in an emergency room. First, they worked feverishly on a person whose life ebbed away from them faster than they could stitch. Then, a traumatic gunshot wound victim kept them from celebrating a "regular" Christmas with each other. Not even for one moment could they look at each other over the last 24 hours without someone else's blood on them. Yet, while they were on duty, a woman came in and they helped deliver her Christmas baby. While she was in labor, her two other children were waiting in a room not far from the birthing room. DNA's sister-in-law talked to the children and asked what they were going to get for Christmas this year. They informed her that Santa missed them last year because they were living in a homeless shelter. They were afraid that Santa would not be able to find them again this year because they were at the hospital. DNA's sister-in-law said that she was sure that Santa knew how to find kids at the hospital. She spent most of her little free time finding other staff at the hospital who, between them, had presents there, with them, in the trunks of their cars, for example, that they would be taking home after their shifts. She was able to convince them to give some of their presents to these kids.
Sometimes that's all it takes. One little ray of hope. Now some of you might think that DNA made this Hallmark shit up to tug at your heart strings. For what purpose? DNA doesn't care if you like Christmas or the tool's sister-in-law or not. This happened. This is dirty, low, life, when a family is out on their luck and most of society does not care about them unless they are forced to care about them. That's why you needed to hear this story. Guess what happened when DNA's mother-in-law heard the story from her daughter? She wondered what business did a homeless mother of two have getting pregnant and having another baby in the first place. So, which are you? The one that rounds up presents for the kids, or the one that chastises the mother? Really?
Merry Christmas.
November, 2006
The DNA Vibrator is now two months into this project. September and October are now archived in the September 2006 and October 2006 blog archives, respectively, on this website. If you haven't yet, take a few minutes to read what got The DNA Vibrator to this pathetic point. As the DNA Vibrator has indicated before, this blog page removes what others may consider certain expected blog features, but removing those extraneous bits makes the blog more conducive to reading through from start to end, like a book. It is stripped down to the essentials. The DNA Vibrator may provide links to other sites or information it references ONLY if it suits the purpose of The DNA Vibrator.
September archive quote: "611 Pizza was like the bar, Cheers, except with a lot more tattoos, leather, black make-up, puking, pot smoking, and hardcore music."
October archive quote: "Because so many of you have come unbidden to look at The DNA Vibrator, The DNA Vibrator has come to realize that some of you may need The DNA Vibrator, the way punk needs bitch."
Permanent Historical Record: 11/01/06
Halloween has come and past. The tool's children went as a skeleton pirate, a teenage mutant ninja turtle, and a corpse bride. It was much fun. The tool lives in a small enough town that Halloween is still like a Norman Rockwell painting, except of course, for the child predators and and meth addicts. But as The DNA Vibrator reflects, they were there in the Rockwell paintings too, because the sickest of the sick, the underbelly of society, look just like the rest of us. Well, probably not the meth addicts---sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, bad teeth, fetid breath, dirty clothes, and stinking of desperation. But Norman painted his own share of perps, pervs, addicts, and whores without even realizing it, since he so accurately depicted Americana.
As much as The DNA Vibrator is convinced that our society is close to self destruction, it has to admit that the continued insistence and persistence of holidays like Halloween in spite of all of the dregs lurking as threats around every corner, bodes well for the society in general. Cultures need rituals which unify all members. The tool just spoke to a person from Taiwan who was fascinated by Halloween. In his country, there is no Halloween, but there is a "ghost month," in which encounters with the spirit world are taken very seriously. He explained to me that his people believe strongly, (and here he struggled for a moment, because the word he came up with isn't quite the right concept) that "hell" opens its gates and interacts with people more during the ghost month than at other times. He said he didn't understand how Halloween was a happy celebration. So, The DNA Vibrator took it upon itself to talk with him about the roots of some of our Halloween traditions. In doing so, The DNA Vibrator re-educated itself about the importance of some traditions. Certainly, holidays like Halloween, Christmas, Easter, and even to a certain extent, 4th of July and Thanksgiving, have lost touch with their roots as rituals. But for those willing to understand why we require our children to dress up as little ghouls and go door to door begging for candy, the holiday retains all of its mythological power.
12th Century rituals: The last, best hope for America!
Permanent Historical Record: 11/02/06
The Anatomy of an Underground Club
In Carbondale, there have been many party houses and party streets: Cherry Street and Oak Street were infamous for a long time. It has been many years since The DNA Vibrator visited those streets for a party, so it is sure that as times changed, so have the party spots. Some places on those streets were known to throw the best parties or have the best bands play. Some persisted through many tenants. One of the reasons a college student wanted to live in one of those houses was to continue the tradition of that house being known as a party destination. Such is the case with the Lost Cross house.
For at least 20 years, Lost Cross has been a destination for punks in Carbondale, a haven for underground or hardcore bands, a place in which almost every cool Carbondale band played, and hundreds of bands from across the country, big and small, have taken the stage. It has had many tenants, but has always been Lost Cross. Even now, The DNA Vibrator doesn't know the street address, but could walk there blindfolded from about any place in Carbondale. Houses which lead double lives as entertainment venues begin to acquire a certain look, feel, and smell, like an old crutch, or crackpipe might, if you have used it for years. Lost Cross is no different. These kinds of clubs all have a different character, but many share some general features which identify them as underground clubs. If you live in a college town, look around, and it will be easy to see the telltale signs that a house may be an underground club.
Starting about two blocks away in any direction, you begin to see more and more homemade stickers for underground or local bands stuck on every surface, from bicycle seats to air conditioning units to temporarily parked cars. You also see dozens of flyers stapled to every telephone pole.
The house itself is nondescript from the outside, except the porch. There are several pieces of furniture on it, the entire porch lists to the left slightly, and the remains of a barbecue grill extends off of one side. A screen door remains cocked half open, and a front door with the glass painted black greets you as you enter. The front room is clearly the main living space for perhaps three or four semi-permanent residents, and a transient population of as many as 10 more. There may be trash, but it really isn't dirty, per se, just messy. Between the residents, there are about 5000 vinyl records and almost as many CD's stuffed in every possible empty cabinet space, and in homemade milk crate furniture. A stereo, constructed from a mish mash of components from across several decades, works, but even on the best of days, sounds like crap. At one time, each piece was likely some of the best audio equipment student loans could buy.
It has to have a basement. A party house can have bands in a living room, but it won't last. All it takes is one overly loud band, one broken window, and that's it---cops called, people busted, and a pissed off neighbor that will rat you out in a heartbeat if you throw another party.
It must have exposed wiring, and dozens of extension cords running from converted light sockets. Clearly this house was built a long time ago, and the basement was never meant to be more than for storage. This accounts for the slightly too low ceiling beams, the open access to the propane furnace and the water heater, and if you are really lucky, access to a nonfunctioning coal chute and coal room.
It must be painted, by dozens of different artists who have made their mark on the house as they did their time in the party scene. It must be covered with phrases from the vain to the vulgar to the vicious to veritas. It must include stickers, logos, and sayings/lyrics/poetry from anti-establishment types, so that young punks can feel comforted by the very walls of their domicile.
It typically includes several TV's which may or may not work, pieces of mismatched furniture, particularly old couches, and also includes some kind of PA system for bands. Usually, there are several guitars, amps, and other pieces of equipment either left by the last band to perform there, or kept there by the band or bands which practice there. Oh, the circuits must contain at least one short, so that when a band is playing, as the singer goes to the microphone, he gets the shit zapped out of him. This happend one time to The DNA Vibrator, so badly that the tool's lip split open and blood flowed as he began to sing. There is nothing more apropo than blood flying from the singer's lips in an underground club.
Sometimes there is a fridge in the basement; usually there is lots of porn; beer cans, bottles and other liquor is ubiquitous. Everything is coated with a thick film of nicotine and pot smoke. Sometimes there are steps, usually with one broken or loose.
Walk up the basement steps, and into the kitchen area of the house, and the floor is peeled linoleum and wood, worn through to the floor joists in two places, and warped. In fact, the entire house has settled along three different axes, and tilts just enough to make your shoes feel funny as you walk from the kitchen to the hallway. None of the windows seat quite right in their frames. Flyers from local shows, posters from many of the coolest bands you have never seen, and more musical instruments are found on walls, behind furniture, and in the bathroom.
The bathroom. One bathroom for the 14 or so who currently live there; one bathroom, basement, and big backyard for the 500 or so guests who are there almost every Friday and Saturday night. One bathroom that on any given night, is covered with every bodily fluid one can excrete, and a couple that two can excrete. Vomit and urine, countered by comet and bleach. This is the price a resident has to pay for the privilege of living in a landmark. This notoriety is not lost on the residents of Lost Cross house. Like the Viking warriors who left the comfort and safety of their own villages behind for the hardships and camaraderie of the sea, the residents choose to live a less civilized, less encumbered with the demands of everyday independent living, but ultimately, more satisfying, life. A life on display to the rest of us who want to be reminded that we can live that free if we want to, and loose the shackles put on us by culture, at least for a Friday or Saturday night.
So to all the residents of Lost Cross, past, present, and future, THANK YOU, for being the bloody pagan barbarians that you are.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/03/06
Tips For the Traveling Band
This is the first installment of many little tidbits, tips which may help you, the wide-eyed, innocent college band member. In no particular order, other than this is the order that The DNA Vibrator remembers, here is
TIP #1: Always bring a soldering kit with you. Know how to use it. On a gig to Ted's Wharehouse, many years ago, The DNA Vibrator realized that the problem with its bass was not replacing a battery, but a short in one of the wires coming from the pick-ups. If we didn't have the tools, we would not have a had a show. At the same show, we had to solder the connecting wires back onto one of the speaker jacks in one of the guitar cabinets, too. In order to be able to comfortably use the soldering iron, you should get real comfortable with your instrument and equipment. Not only should you know how to play, you should know how your instrument and your equipment works. Getting personal with your equipment will make you a better player.
TIP #2: Pack a traveling pharmacy. Include pepto, immodium, execedrin, benadryl, sore throat lozenges, band aids, anti bacterial stuff, and a roll of toilet paper. Clearly life on the road is not always agreeable to one's stomach. And if you ever have had to use a bar or club toilet after standing in line 4 deep while the current patron is having explosive diarrhea and vomiting, then you know it is better to plan ahead than have to attempt to shit while standing on your tiptoes straddling a filthy backed up toilet, praying that no bit of you touches a bit of it, all while the bathroom stall door flaps open for no reason.
TIP #3: Always keep at least one guitar on stage that you can swing as a weapon if you need to. At one show, The DNA Vibrator swung his Ibanez SDGR bass (didn't have it for long, a little too cheesy for its own good) to clear out a group of belligerant bastards who had a little too much to drink, and were being a little too threatening to the band. This is a too common occurrence, when Joe Wish-he-had-the-balls-or-talent-to-put-together-his-own-band somehow feels that you owe him the opportunity to let him come up on stage and try to sing his music, which in reality is a retarded, drunken chorus of "Louie, Louie." So, of course, you say, "Get the fuck off my stage. You wanna sing, get your own fucking band," as nicely as possible while screaming at the dumbfuck. Somehow, dumbfucks always take this the wrong way. For whatever reason, dumbfucks also tend to think that if you are in a band, you are probably a pussy, and feel the need to flex their beer muscles in front of the redneck brigade which drove their trucks in with dumbfuck. Which leads to previously stated situation, which leads to bass being swung like a sledgehammer. After swinging it, and having dumbfuck come within about an inch of the hospital, everybody's jets cooled down a bit. The bar owner cleared the redneck brigade out of the bar. Then, as as the ruckus finally settled down, and we were ready to play again, The DNA Vibrator set the bass in its stand for a moment, and it fell off the stage, face first. It bounced when it hit the ground. The bass was so solid, it didn't even go out of tune. That's a multi-purpose instrument of sonic destruction for you. Probably should have kept it.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/05/06
Tips For the Traveling Band, Continued:
TIP #4: Buy an inline tuner for each of your guitar and bass players. Buy an extra. Don't care if your guitarist is a prima donna perfect pitch prick, when stage volume is brutal, monitors suck, and half the guys in the band are drunk, it's not worth the aggravation of attempting to tune your guitar by ear.
TIP #5: Spend whatever money you need to have a cheap guitar on hand as a spare. Nothing kills a show quicker than when a guitar goes down and it takes 20 minutes to fix it. $100.00 will get you what you need. That's about one show's take if you are beginning and in a little club. Do yourselves a favor, don't spend that gig money on a 2 am feast at Denny's (those come later). Go out the next day and get yourselves a spare guitar.
TIP #6: Book shows at clubs which serve food. Almost always, they will comp you some food as part of your gig.
TIP #7: Your band may actually inspire some people. They will want to be part of your experience. Let them. Let them sell your t-shirts, stickers, and CD's. Let them book shows for you, and let them load your equipment in and out of clubs. In return, let them be seen "with the band." Comp them tickets, or get them on the guest list. Give them t-shirts and CD's to wear and listen to. In Crank, we were lucky enough to have a person who really liked what we did who worked hard on our behalf just for the experience. Carolyn booked shows for us, settled up with club owners after gigs, helped load equipment, and sold stuff for us. She often would travel with us and put up with four stinky, crude, and loud guys, all cramped in our van. When we could, we paid her. In the end, she used her experience with Crank to help her become one of the booking agents for First Avenue in Minneapolis, one of the most famous clubs in the midwest, Prince's stomping ground.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/07/06
Election Day Excitement
The DNA Vibrator enjoys the quote of Winston Churchill, "Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others." The DNA Vibrator participated. Completed its civic duty, etc. However, the tool's son, Carl, was with the tool when he went to vote. "What's the difference between democrats and republicans?" he asked. The tool didn't have a good answer. The lines between politics and religion have been blurred, the lines between conservative and liberal are crossed. The tool said that he didn't think there was much of a difference anymore, and that the process of becoming a statewide and national candidate is corrupting, and that people with twisted motives were religifying everything, and...well, then he realized he was laying kind of a heavy trip on his 10 year old son. "Don't worry about it," he then said. Let Carl fix those problems tomorrow. Today, The DNA Vibrator has something special to celebrate.
Today, The DNA Vibrator finished a song called "A Brief History of The DNA Vibrator." And then, because DNA had some extra time to kill, the music was adapted as the new welcome mat for this website. This was the first official "new" DNA work in some time, and The DNA Vibrator was so excited about it that it went ahead and posted it even though it is not finished. The entire recording was done in the tool's office where he works, on his kick-ass Mac G5, using a couple of nice mics and Garageband. Even though this recording is tracked and mixed using Garageband, and The DNA Vibrator took advantage of some of the available software instruments (drums in particular) they are not pre-made loops. Each track is written and/or programmed by The DNA Vibrator. This will be the first recording for the upcoming DNA Vibrators release, "The Purple Headed Stranger." Hope you like it, not worried if you don't.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/11/06
The Day After The Night of the Cubby Bear Show
Before we continue the story started in the blog post 10/05/2006, we will rewind to the day before the night of the Cubby Bear show. The band had reached a new milestone: AfroDJYak had a new credit card, and it was Christmas for The DNA Vibrator and Gone Brian Vaughan in, well, December.
We found a sufficiently cool music store on the north side of Chicago, and began window shopping. When we went in, we hadn't actually formulated a plan, but in about 10 minutes, and to this day, The DNA Vibrator is not sure who suggested it, but AfroDJYak was more than willing to fork over his credit card to buy new equipment. The DNA Vibrator purchased a GK head and Trace Elliot cabinet. Nice stuff. Gone purchased a Mesa Boogie 50 Caliber. Nicer stuff. It has been so long, The DNA Vibrator doesn't remember what else was bought, but we certainly came close to AfroDJYak's limit. We spent the next year paying the card off in installments. It was some of the best money we spent.
More important than any gear, however, was the trust we had in each other. How many of your friends would drop $2000.00 on their credit card for your stuff? We never betrayed that trust. Of all the bands The DNA Vibrator has been in, the nucleus of the Coolies best embodied why people get together and form a band. We formed a brotherhood, which still manifests itself when we get together, to the aggravation of our wives.
TIP #8: Don't do this. Don't finance your other band member's equipment with a high interest rate charge card, no matter how fucking much you love each other. We were lucky, not smart, that that little shenanigan didn't make us the bitterest of enemies. Don't go into debt: use your gig money to help each band member buy new stuff.
So, later that night, we played the Cubby Bear, got royally fucked by the club, BV sold his license to a random guy he met outside the club, and we made enough money to gas up the van for the return trip home.
We spent the night at one of BV's friend's houses. Throughout the night, a snowstorm developed, and blanketed the city in about 18 inches of snow. In the morning, we were moving slowly, but by about 9 am, we looked ready to try our luck. Driving the van in the city was not bad, because by 9, traffic had already reduced the snow and ice to muddy slush. After about an hour of slow but safe driving, we made it out of the city, and were traveling on I-57 south.
For those of you unfamiliar, I-57 south is one of the major southern routes out of Chicago, and is the most direct route from Chicago back to southern Illinois. Once you are about 25 miles out of the city though, the landscape changes to stark, open farmland. It stays that way until you get south of Mt. Vernon, 300 miles away. As soon as we reached open road, conditions worsened. The temperature continued to drop throughout the morning, and what started as a messy road way, soon became a dangerously slick roadway. BV had started to nap as we left the city, and was comfortably resting as AfroDJYak and The DNA Vibrator were looking at the bleak conditions ahead. Road speed was steadily declining. In about two hours, the band was only just south of Kankakee (look on the map, you can see we weren't moving very fast).
We saw a semi trailer jack-knife. After about another 30 minutes of driving, our speed was down to between 15 to 20 miles an hour. There were fewer and fewer cars on the road. As we were passing under an overpass, as often happens when you are mildly compensating for a wind pushing your vehicle, which quickly abates under the overpass, for which you have to over steer to maintain control, the DNA Vibrator turned the wheel too quickly, and the van started to slide. It slid gracefully, the way a gelatinous walrus looks graceful in water, but cumbersome on land. AfroDJYak noted in that brief moment as life began flashing before his eyes, that The DNA Vibrator had taken one hand off the wheel, and was nipping the edge of his lips with his teeth, a habit The DNA Vibrator would fall into when near fatal accidents were about to occur. He pointed this out after years of research to The DNA Vibrator. The DNA Vibrator had enough time to say, "Hang on," which was not very good advice. Briefly, The DNA Vibrator noted that a cymbal case was poised to fall the reclining body of BV. A full cymbal case can easily weigh 80 pounds. It may not have killed him if it were to fall, but who wants to live with a collapsed lung?
Gently, DNA did the right moves: first foot off the gas, next, steer into the slide, next avoid culverts, metal posts, other cars. Thankfully, no one was near us, and as the van dreamily twisted from one side of the interstate to the other, the cymbal case rocked, but did not fall. At one point, the van was meandering sideways down the road. It actually became fun once it didn't seem like the van was going to flip over.
Finally, the van right itself, and very slowly, we continue on. As the blood started to flow to DNA's knuckles again, and AfroDJYak was beginning to lose the grin plastered on his face (the grin of "holy fuck, we coulda died, but we didn't"). Brian emerged from his sleep. "Hey, what's up guys? I thought I felt something a second ago." We laughed. Fortune favors the brave or foolish. Once again, over that unforgettable weekend, we were united as the Coolies.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/12/06
Our Sad, Collective Needs
Last night, as The DNA Vibrator wound down another day of changing the world imperceptibly, it took the time, for the first time ever, really, to surf the blogosphere. It didn't take long to come to a stark realization: Human beings are lacking something; companionship, communication, a feeling of being valued in the world, perhaps? Whatever it is, this collective psychological need is being filled by the internet. Filling this need is perhaps the most important service provided by the internet to its users. The DNA Vibrator believes this aspect of the internet was a completely unintended effect.
Some say the blogosphere is the expression of democracy that the (mostly) free flow of information allows. This myth is directly tied to the idea that the internet is fulfilling a psychological need for people. Most information on the web is not an expression of democracy; most information is expressed to further a person's, country's, corporation's, or group's own specific agenda, at the expense of other's. Some might say that in aggregate, this is still democracy, but it is not. True pursuit of democracy encourages every individual to have an equal say in decision making processes. The internet is not designed to do this. It is designed to evolve to allow those users who can purchase bandwidth, storage, ideas, etc., to develop as hubs for information seekers. This is natural, but it is not democracy. Most information on the web does not flow freely; First off, it costs, on many levels---must have a computer, or access to one; must have the time available to learn and use the computer; either must have a job in which use of the computer encourages your interest in how to access information, or must have the luxury of leisure to devote time to more esoteric pursuits. It costs, because users pay some kind of fee, whether fees are state or federal taxes for computer resources in a library, or whether it's a fee for contracted services from an internet provider. Rarely is any information provided on websites. There may be content, it may have a lot of colors and noise, but does the blog you read actually add to you as an entity and make you more enriched for spending the time you just spent? Highly unlikely.
Use this very website, for example. From its beginning, a fiction was created, an entity called The DNA Vibrator, to act as a narrative vehicle for the content being provided. It has all the tricks of seeming like it might be interesting to read, and listen to. Does The DNA Vibrator hope that you do read and listen to the stuff here? Yes, but the reason for that isn't because it will fill some gap in your life---it fills a gap in The DNA Vibrator's. Will your hoped for enjoyment of the material on this website add to your life, in some small way? DNA hopes so, again for its own selfish reasons. DNA knows that you can get your dimestore philosophy from so many other places. There are some out there who are not directly related to The DNA Vibrator who read this, so, perhaps, there is a little content hiding in here, after all.
DNA's website is perhaps not the best example. It's too innocuous. The DNA Vibrator already knows it doesn't really mean anything. But last night, The DNA Vibrator looked at hundreds of blogs, all presenting the appearance of access into others' lives through a computer screen-sized window. Most of them recycle the same sentiments in very bad personal poetry, or present a slice of life from a person, who feels the need to share this life with the rest of us. It didn't take long to realize that most of the slices of life were the same: Not uninteresting, but full of a conceit, which is that whatever it is that a person is blogging about is interesting enough, worthy enough, that it should be shared with the rest of us. Nobody cares if you bought a new dog. Nobody cares if you are totally into the show "Lost." Nobody cares if you are a has-been musician with a modicum of talent, a mediocre voice, the cumbersome wit to handle blunt sarcasm, and have a few extra bucks each month to spend to maintain a website (See---The DNA Vibrator is not being holier-than-thou. It completely includes itself in the category of "website that does not meet the test of being interesting enough").
What is this unmet need? We all "feel the need" to express part of lives. But, express to whom? How is it that for so many, expression has to take the form of a disjointed conversation, or a monologue, or a diatribe, or whatever rhetorical form the internet is demanding of its users? The internet, as it is presently being used, is not a very good form of communication. It's like a letter, only less personal. All the bullshit music, flash animation, porn, effects, that's all window-dressing. What is expressed, in the end, is no different, and actually, less direct than just about any form of communication The DNA Vibrator can think of right now. The fact that so many people derive something from the experience of blogging should tell us all that we're pretty dysfunctional. Equating a blog to communication is like equating role-playing game experiences to real life experiences. For some, the role-playing experience is the experience to be savored, not the real-life experience. Add up that equation: Self-loathing + no intimate friends + disappointment and frustration with not being who or what you had hoped to be in life = 20 hours a day playing ultima online. After reading so many blogs last night, The DNA Vibrator thinks that perhaps the answer to the above equation could also be "= writing this blog so all of you out there know I exist, and I am worth something." Are we so detached from each other that the only way that some of us can actually communicate is by not communicating? Have we confused the fiction that necessarily must be created online for the reality of our daily lives? Does this same unmet need describe the phenomena of "reality TV?" How is it that our current reality is so crappy that we sometimes prefer the presentation of someone else's reality?
Books took the translatable aspects of oral culture and put them in a form more people could use; radio and TV took the translatable aspects of print media and put them in a form more people could use. The internet took the translatable aspects of previous media and put them in a form more people could use. The price? At each step, the elements that are not translatable are lost, or forgotten, or deemed unimportant, because they do not fit the new paradigm. Some could call this a democratizing process, but it is democratizing like Wal-Mart is democratizing. If you reduce the overall value of the content being trafficked, in an effort to spread it around to more people, then perhaps you achieve one goal of democracy, homogeneity, at the expense of all other goals of democracy. The DNA Vibrator thinks that this is the root of the unmet need filled by the internet. At a gut level, people realize that the internet, blogs, mass marketed crap, governments, institutions, corporations, most organizations bigger than YOU, work directly or indirectly at lowering your expectations. About life. About everything. Your own self included. Why aren't you the next Gandhi? Why don't you end world hunger? Why don't you stop the war in Iraq? Why don't you actually go do something? Why waste any moment of your time? Can't you get something more out of your life? The DNA Vibrator is not pointing fingers, it does not want to anger or alienate you who are reading right now. It is not trying to make you feel bad, or like DNA is somehow superior to you for making these statements. In fact, The DNA Vibrator has very nearly talked itself out of writing another blog post, because it realizes that this expenditure of energy, this blog, does not really add too much to anyone's life, its own included.
The problem isn't the medium. It�s our expectation of what the medium can do. We're told by ourselves, by our experience as we look at other's work, that THIS, whatever this is, is what a blog should be, or a website should be, or LIFE should be. In the end, DNA is glad so many people are blogging. Like infinite monkeys randomly typing on infinite keyboards, eventually one of us will "get" it. Maybe it will be YOU.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/14/06
Our Happy, Collective Accomplishments
Clearly, the last post that The DNA Vibrator wrote did not dissuade it from continuing to write, nor did it dissuade any of the thousands of other bloggers or millions of readers from writing and reading. Good. Because as fucked up and pointless as most blogs are, they serve many purposes, none of which were addressed in the previous post.
Utility, cultural advancement, these are often the last goals met through a cultural tool like the internet. Sometimes, actual, real, useful information is gleaned from these pages, and certainly, one can always learn from others, even if the message is "don't do your blog like this." Since everybody's experience is unique, sometimes little things, like the use of a word, or a picture, might really be worth your time.
Certainly, DNA uses the internet everyday, so there is a certain amount of utility. However, its argument is not the internet does not have utility, it is that most blogs don't. This argument is weak, however. DNA knows it. Just wanted to see if anyone cared to debate. Since no one did, DNA will debate itself.
What about funny blogs? What about blogs that share art, pictures, music, optical illusions, educational blogs, historical blogs, blogs that archive otherwise lost information, blogs from important people with important things to say, blogs that document atrocities, blogs that give us firsthand information from war-torn areas, blogs that allow us to see medical and scientific breakthroughs? What about that, DNA Vibrator? What about that?
All true. That and more. Also, see the flaw in The DNA Vibrator's previous argument about how one medium that encompasses another translates the previous medium, but leaves the untranslatable stuff by the wayside. This simply is not true. First, no media has replaced any other. These different media exist together. In fact, it appears that there is room for a lot more, and there will be other media in the future.
Even if there is untranslatable stuff, there is so much new content that new media allows to be developed it more than makes up for what parts might be lost along the way.
The end message is the same for this post as the last one---keep typing away, keep posting your baby photos, the story about your new couch. It all adds to the cultural complexity. Every so often, art is created in those commonplace events, whether we realize it or not.
Fuck, this was a shiny happy blog post. Here's a different take: Maybe its better that we waste our time writing blogs and reading blogs and trying to be humorous or pertinent, or sharing and caring, because at least the illusion of doing something is better than the reality of nothing in your life meaning anything.
Ah, that's better.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/16/06
Dear Mr. President...
The DNA Vibrator does not know what has motivated it to do so, but last night, it wrote a long letter to the President of the United States. It also sent the letter to its senators and congressman. If DNA gets a response, it will post the response here. The DNA Vibrator does not believe its letters will actually influence the politicians to change policy, but this kind of writing is theraputic, and cheaper than a shrink. Once it gets political shit off its chest, it is free to think of more pressing matters. Of course, if DNA's letters do presage a change in policy, once again, the power of the Vibrator will be exposed.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/20/06
Today, the Internet Served its Purpose
It just so happened that through this very site, communication, actual communication, occurred between The DNA Vibrator, and an old friend of its, Orpheus Rex. Orpheus goes way back in the Carbondale music scene, was a respected player, and a damn fine writer. His byline appeared in the Carbondale Nightlife many times. He now makes the internet better for us all by being part of the new world order called yahoo!. There is no better way to bring down the man than by to subvert from the inside.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/24/06
He's Bringing Lots of Toys, For All the Punk Girls and Boys!
It has always been a desire of The DNA Vibrator to make a Christmas album, mixing standards and new material. This is not a joke. 10 years ago, it started, and wrote, "All I want For Christmas is a Whole Lotta Cash." It wrote another one, called, "Let's Put the X Back in Christmas," but it is not yet recorded. It is in the process of recording its own version of "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire." The best part of this project is that time is no object. Christmas is likely to be around for awhile. When it is done, you will see it here.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/30/06
My Political Letter
With only minor changes, here is the letter The DNA Vibrator sent to President Bush, its senators and representative. Afterwards is the official response it got back from the White House.
Dear President Bush,
Like many of my friends, I have listened to the news, read the books, and heard the experts and the common folk talk about what to do in Iraq. People get bogged down in the "why" we are there. I was one of those people until recently. It no longer matters why we are there.
I know I am not telling you or anyone else anything new here. I have thought about our situation for a long time, and begging the presumption, I would like to present to you what I have concluded.
First, the obvious American presence in Iraq is possibly fueling the terrorists' aims and the sectarian violence. Even if it is not, our enemies' propaganda machines can use our presence as their excuse to continue to perform acts of violence, and continue to stir discontent and raise doubts among people in Iraq and out of Iraq about the American mission.
Second, we must more clearly define our mission in Iraq. I have no doubt there is a clear mission among military commanders and political leaders, but it must be articulated in no nonsense terms, not in sound bites and nice sounding phrases, which don't have a lot of meaning on the ground. The American people can take it, and the entire world community will appreciate your candor. We must abandon absolute terms, like "win" or "lose" and appeal to a common sense understanding of an urban ground war. There are no winners or losers, (well, there are losers---everybody loses) objectives lose their relevance quickly, and in the end, any and every civilian death limits our ability to complete whatever mission we wish to complete.
Third, we must understand the military's continued role in Iraq. From a military point of view, home grown militias don't even blip on the radar as a threat. As a percentage of our total force in Iraq, over time, our casualty rate is extremely low, and I imagine, compared to theirs, presents a compelling argument that in a war of attrition, we win.
However, homegrown militias and terrorist action can't be beaten by traditional military force. Militias rise because of social unrest, poverty, lack of opportunity to build a better community for the future generations. Military force can not "beat" that. It can not solve a primarily political or religious conflict. Well, I take that back; military force can, but it requires total destruction and/or removal of the enemy. Since that was not our goal, the military, not surprisingly, is not "winning" this war. The military is not suited to complete the current mission in Iraq: police the country, train their people, enforce law, and heal or at least bridge religious and ethnic divisions.
How do we proceed then? Although they are the best on the planet, our military forces are like a bear, and opposition forces in Iraq are individual bees stinging the bear. From their point of view, the bees are defending their hive from the brute destructive force of the bear, which is taking something precious from them. From the bear's point of view, bees are a nuisance, nothing more. But, we are not the bear. I do not believe that our goal was to destroy Iraq or to take away what was precious from the Iraqi people. However, from their point of view, we are still acting like a bear. So our problem is to figure out how to turn our forces from acting like a bear into acting like a fox: Cunning, hidden, achieving by position what we have tried to achieve by force. There is no easy way to do this, but we can do it. The other option, a much worse option, will be to totally commit to a ground war. Since it is the least desirable option, let's discuss it now, and get it out of the way.
OPTION ONE:
Ground War: Institute a draft of all American citizens between the ages of 18-35 who meet the physical and mental requirements for military service. Raise an army of at least one million additional troops and blanket Iraq in a force the likes of which the world has never before seen. Literally encircle terrorist hot spots and kill or detain every single person who poses a threat to our force. End piecemeal war. Devote enough troops to secure and patrol borders. Secure all public utilities and major industries. Institute marshal law until the number of terrorist attacks drops to zero. Continue this presence until every child currently alive in Iraq has been taught in an American built, American taught school. It may sound like I am being sarcastic, but I am not. If we are to approach this war from the point of view that is will be "won" by us, nothing less than total commitment on our part will suffice. Therefore, I hope that we all agree, that this course of action is untenable, and that the American people simply will not agree or follow such a course of action.
OPTION TWO:
The Eventual Road to Disengagement (turning the bear into a fox):
First, terrorists must be treated as criminals, not as military forces. This has been a mistake on our part from the beginning. We should not be using the vocabulary and tools of war to punish criminal organizations. When we think "war" we limit ourselves to the options of war. We must begin changing our focus from military engagement to criminal prosecution and justice. We didn't use the military to attack Timothy McVeigh, or to find and destroy the perpetrators of the first World Trade Center bombing. Such is our situation now in Iraq. War is for toppling governments, or for opposing other military forces. Terrorists are criminals, and should be dealt with as such. Swift, equal, and effective public punishment of terrorists will deter future terrorists, and will give the population a reason to believe in its government.
Second, we have to employ Iraqis not only as police and military, but as the workforce in an Iraqi "New Deal," the goal of which is to employ every able-bodied Iraqi man and woman not currently employed to create or rebuild modern public works. These would include roads, schools, new power stations, new oil facilities, new bridges, new port facilities, EVERYTHING, from the ground up. People must either be working, or have a medical reason why they can not work. We need to do this instead of hiring multinational corporations from outside of Iraq to complete these tasks. When we give out contracts to corporations outside of Iraq, the money we spend does not get reinvested or spread through the Iraqi economy. It gets concentrated outside of the country. If Iraqis were being employed to build the things that Iraqis use, then Iraqis will be less likely to destroy them. They will be invested, in time, money, and pride, in the things they themselves have built, not the things we have built for them. For as often as conservatives have decried the effectiveness of the "welfare state," I am surprised that no one is talking about the welfare state we have created over there. No more no bid contracts to outside sources. It is counterproductive to the war effort.
Third, we must through all means necessary, secure the one for one replacement of coalition forces for pan-arabic and muslim (PAM) forces. These forces must be of mixed ethnic and religious backgrounds, and not under U.S. control, but under the control of a United Nations coordinated team of Iraqi and PAM commanders. We must cede all political authority to the elected Iraqi government, and remove our political presence; We must cede all military authority to the Iraqi government and to PAM forces.
Fourth, we must leave with no strings attached, with no Iraqi debt owed to us or any other coalition force. We must agree to continue to help fund public works, the rebuilding of roads, schools, utilities, and ports until the country functions at least as well as its pre-war status.
Fifth, we declare a new foreign policy in the region, similar to an old policy which worked very well: We will walk softly and carry a big stick. Let any power who wishes to a wage a war of words speak as long as they want. But as soon as a person is harmed or our interests are directly injured, react with immediate, massive, and deadly force.
I am not writing this to be critical of you or your administration. I wouldn't want to trade places with you. But I felt that I ought to tell you what I think. I don't expect that I am saying anything that others haven't already discussed, but, you never know.
Find a good solution to this mess. Be humble, if you must, be understanding. Change your position, if you have to. Changing doesn't mean "terrorists win," regardless of what others might say.
Sincerely,
NEXT, the first official response, from the White House:
On behalf of President Bush, thank you for your correspondence. We appreciate hearing your views and welcome your suggestions. The President is committed to continuing our economic progress, defending our freedom, and upholding our Nation's deepest values.
Due to the large volume of e-mail received, the White House cannot respond to every message. Please visit the White House website for the most up-to-date information on Presidential initiatives, current events, and topics of interest to you. In order to better receive comments from the public, a new system has been implemented. In the future please send your comments to comments@whitehouse.gov.
Thank you again for taking the time to write.
OR, in other words, "You're doing a great job, Brownie!" Or, "Malichi is the right guy for Iraq." Or, in other words, "Fuck off. You don't even deserve a form letter. Here is a form email. Now go have your little rant next to some endangered tree species while real men fight for your fucking freedom."
The DNA Vibrator hopes that more official responses will come from its other elected officials. It will be easy to judge their characters by their lack of personality or depth of bullshit.
September archive quote: "611 Pizza was like the bar, Cheers, except with a lot more tattoos, leather, black make-up, puking, pot smoking, and hardcore music."
October archive quote: "Because so many of you have come unbidden to look at The DNA Vibrator, The DNA Vibrator has come to realize that some of you may need The DNA Vibrator, the way punk needs bitch."
Permanent Historical Record: 11/01/06
Halloween has come and past. The tool's children went as a skeleton pirate, a teenage mutant ninja turtle, and a corpse bride. It was much fun. The tool lives in a small enough town that Halloween is still like a Norman Rockwell painting, except of course, for the child predators and and meth addicts. But as The DNA Vibrator reflects, they were there in the Rockwell paintings too, because the sickest of the sick, the underbelly of society, look just like the rest of us. Well, probably not the meth addicts---sunken cheeks, hollow eyes, bad teeth, fetid breath, dirty clothes, and stinking of desperation. But Norman painted his own share of perps, pervs, addicts, and whores without even realizing it, since he so accurately depicted Americana.
As much as The DNA Vibrator is convinced that our society is close to self destruction, it has to admit that the continued insistence and persistence of holidays like Halloween in spite of all of the dregs lurking as threats around every corner, bodes well for the society in general. Cultures need rituals which unify all members. The tool just spoke to a person from Taiwan who was fascinated by Halloween. In his country, there is no Halloween, but there is a "ghost month," in which encounters with the spirit world are taken very seriously. He explained to me that his people believe strongly, (and here he struggled for a moment, because the word he came up with isn't quite the right concept) that "hell" opens its gates and interacts with people more during the ghost month than at other times. He said he didn't understand how Halloween was a happy celebration. So, The DNA Vibrator took it upon itself to talk with him about the roots of some of our Halloween traditions. In doing so, The DNA Vibrator re-educated itself about the importance of some traditions. Certainly, holidays like Halloween, Christmas, Easter, and even to a certain extent, 4th of July and Thanksgiving, have lost touch with their roots as rituals. But for those willing to understand why we require our children to dress up as little ghouls and go door to door begging for candy, the holiday retains all of its mythological power.
12th Century rituals: The last, best hope for America!
Permanent Historical Record: 11/02/06
The Anatomy of an Underground Club
In Carbondale, there have been many party houses and party streets: Cherry Street and Oak Street were infamous for a long time. It has been many years since The DNA Vibrator visited those streets for a party, so it is sure that as times changed, so have the party spots. Some places on those streets were known to throw the best parties or have the best bands play. Some persisted through many tenants. One of the reasons a college student wanted to live in one of those houses was to continue the tradition of that house being known as a party destination. Such is the case with the Lost Cross house.
For at least 20 years, Lost Cross has been a destination for punks in Carbondale, a haven for underground or hardcore bands, a place in which almost every cool Carbondale band played, and hundreds of bands from across the country, big and small, have taken the stage. It has had many tenants, but has always been Lost Cross. Even now, The DNA Vibrator doesn't know the street address, but could walk there blindfolded from about any place in Carbondale. Houses which lead double lives as entertainment venues begin to acquire a certain look, feel, and smell, like an old crutch, or crackpipe might, if you have used it for years. Lost Cross is no different. These kinds of clubs all have a different character, but many share some general features which identify them as underground clubs. If you live in a college town, look around, and it will be easy to see the telltale signs that a house may be an underground club.
Starting about two blocks away in any direction, you begin to see more and more homemade stickers for underground or local bands stuck on every surface, from bicycle seats to air conditioning units to temporarily parked cars. You also see dozens of flyers stapled to every telephone pole.
The house itself is nondescript from the outside, except the porch. There are several pieces of furniture on it, the entire porch lists to the left slightly, and the remains of a barbecue grill extends off of one side. A screen door remains cocked half open, and a front door with the glass painted black greets you as you enter. The front room is clearly the main living space for perhaps three or four semi-permanent residents, and a transient population of as many as 10 more. There may be trash, but it really isn't dirty, per se, just messy. Between the residents, there are about 5000 vinyl records and almost as many CD's stuffed in every possible empty cabinet space, and in homemade milk crate furniture. A stereo, constructed from a mish mash of components from across several decades, works, but even on the best of days, sounds like crap. At one time, each piece was likely some of the best audio equipment student loans could buy.
It has to have a basement. A party house can have bands in a living room, but it won't last. All it takes is one overly loud band, one broken window, and that's it---cops called, people busted, and a pissed off neighbor that will rat you out in a heartbeat if you throw another party.
It must have exposed wiring, and dozens of extension cords running from converted light sockets. Clearly this house was built a long time ago, and the basement was never meant to be more than for storage. This accounts for the slightly too low ceiling beams, the open access to the propane furnace and the water heater, and if you are really lucky, access to a nonfunctioning coal chute and coal room.
It must be painted, by dozens of different artists who have made their mark on the house as they did their time in the party scene. It must be covered with phrases from the vain to the vulgar to the vicious to veritas. It must include stickers, logos, and sayings/lyrics/poetry from anti-establishment types, so that young punks can feel comforted by the very walls of their domicile.
It typically includes several TV's which may or may not work, pieces of mismatched furniture, particularly old couches, and also includes some kind of PA system for bands. Usually, there are several guitars, amps, and other pieces of equipment either left by the last band to perform there, or kept there by the band or bands which practice there. Oh, the circuits must contain at least one short, so that when a band is playing, as the singer goes to the microphone, he gets the shit zapped out of him. This happend one time to The DNA Vibrator, so badly that the tool's lip split open and blood flowed as he began to sing. There is nothing more apropo than blood flying from the singer's lips in an underground club.
Sometimes there is a fridge in the basement; usually there is lots of porn; beer cans, bottles and other liquor is ubiquitous. Everything is coated with a thick film of nicotine and pot smoke. Sometimes there are steps, usually with one broken or loose.
Walk up the basement steps, and into the kitchen area of the house, and the floor is peeled linoleum and wood, worn through to the floor joists in two places, and warped. In fact, the entire house has settled along three different axes, and tilts just enough to make your shoes feel funny as you walk from the kitchen to the hallway. None of the windows seat quite right in their frames. Flyers from local shows, posters from many of the coolest bands you have never seen, and more musical instruments are found on walls, behind furniture, and in the bathroom.
The bathroom. One bathroom for the 14 or so who currently live there; one bathroom, basement, and big backyard for the 500 or so guests who are there almost every Friday and Saturday night. One bathroom that on any given night, is covered with every bodily fluid one can excrete, and a couple that two can excrete. Vomit and urine, countered by comet and bleach. This is the price a resident has to pay for the privilege of living in a landmark. This notoriety is not lost on the residents of Lost Cross house. Like the Viking warriors who left the comfort and safety of their own villages behind for the hardships and camaraderie of the sea, the residents choose to live a less civilized, less encumbered with the demands of everyday independent living, but ultimately, more satisfying, life. A life on display to the rest of us who want to be reminded that we can live that free if we want to, and loose the shackles put on us by culture, at least for a Friday or Saturday night.
So to all the residents of Lost Cross, past, present, and future, THANK YOU, for being the bloody pagan barbarians that you are.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/03/06
Tips For the Traveling Band
This is the first installment of many little tidbits, tips which may help you, the wide-eyed, innocent college band member. In no particular order, other than this is the order that The DNA Vibrator remembers, here is
TIP #1: Always bring a soldering kit with you. Know how to use it. On a gig to Ted's Wharehouse, many years ago, The DNA Vibrator realized that the problem with its bass was not replacing a battery, but a short in one of the wires coming from the pick-ups. If we didn't have the tools, we would not have a had a show. At the same show, we had to solder the connecting wires back onto one of the speaker jacks in one of the guitar cabinets, too. In order to be able to comfortably use the soldering iron, you should get real comfortable with your instrument and equipment. Not only should you know how to play, you should know how your instrument and your equipment works. Getting personal with your equipment will make you a better player.
TIP #2: Pack a traveling pharmacy. Include pepto, immodium, execedrin, benadryl, sore throat lozenges, band aids, anti bacterial stuff, and a roll of toilet paper. Clearly life on the road is not always agreeable to one's stomach. And if you ever have had to use a bar or club toilet after standing in line 4 deep while the current patron is having explosive diarrhea and vomiting, then you know it is better to plan ahead than have to attempt to shit while standing on your tiptoes straddling a filthy backed up toilet, praying that no bit of you touches a bit of it, all while the bathroom stall door flaps open for no reason.
TIP #3: Always keep at least one guitar on stage that you can swing as a weapon if you need to. At one show, The DNA Vibrator swung his Ibanez SDGR bass (didn't have it for long, a little too cheesy for its own good) to clear out a group of belligerant bastards who had a little too much to drink, and were being a little too threatening to the band. This is a too common occurrence, when Joe Wish-he-had-the-balls-or-talent-to-put-together-his-own-band somehow feels that you owe him the opportunity to let him come up on stage and try to sing his music, which in reality is a retarded, drunken chorus of "Louie, Louie." So, of course, you say, "Get the fuck off my stage. You wanna sing, get your own fucking band," as nicely as possible while screaming at the dumbfuck. Somehow, dumbfucks always take this the wrong way. For whatever reason, dumbfucks also tend to think that if you are in a band, you are probably a pussy, and feel the need to flex their beer muscles in front of the redneck brigade which drove their trucks in with dumbfuck. Which leads to previously stated situation, which leads to bass being swung like a sledgehammer. After swinging it, and having dumbfuck come within about an inch of the hospital, everybody's jets cooled down a bit. The bar owner cleared the redneck brigade out of the bar. Then, as as the ruckus finally settled down, and we were ready to play again, The DNA Vibrator set the bass in its stand for a moment, and it fell off the stage, face first. It bounced when it hit the ground. The bass was so solid, it didn't even go out of tune. That's a multi-purpose instrument of sonic destruction for you. Probably should have kept it.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/05/06
Tips For the Traveling Band, Continued:
TIP #4: Buy an inline tuner for each of your guitar and bass players. Buy an extra. Don't care if your guitarist is a prima donna perfect pitch prick, when stage volume is brutal, monitors suck, and half the guys in the band are drunk, it's not worth the aggravation of attempting to tune your guitar by ear.
TIP #5: Spend whatever money you need to have a cheap guitar on hand as a spare. Nothing kills a show quicker than when a guitar goes down and it takes 20 minutes to fix it. $100.00 will get you what you need. That's about one show's take if you are beginning and in a little club. Do yourselves a favor, don't spend that gig money on a 2 am feast at Denny's (those come later). Go out the next day and get yourselves a spare guitar.
TIP #6: Book shows at clubs which serve food. Almost always, they will comp you some food as part of your gig.
TIP #7: Your band may actually inspire some people. They will want to be part of your experience. Let them. Let them sell your t-shirts, stickers, and CD's. Let them book shows for you, and let them load your equipment in and out of clubs. In return, let them be seen "with the band." Comp them tickets, or get them on the guest list. Give them t-shirts and CD's to wear and listen to. In Crank, we were lucky enough to have a person who really liked what we did who worked hard on our behalf just for the experience. Carolyn booked shows for us, settled up with club owners after gigs, helped load equipment, and sold stuff for us. She often would travel with us and put up with four stinky, crude, and loud guys, all cramped in our van. When we could, we paid her. In the end, she used her experience with Crank to help her become one of the booking agents for First Avenue in Minneapolis, one of the most famous clubs in the midwest, Prince's stomping ground.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/07/06
Election Day Excitement
The DNA Vibrator enjoys the quote of Winston Churchill, "Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others." The DNA Vibrator participated. Completed its civic duty, etc. However, the tool's son, Carl, was with the tool when he went to vote. "What's the difference between democrats and republicans?" he asked. The tool didn't have a good answer. The lines between politics and religion have been blurred, the lines between conservative and liberal are crossed. The tool said that he didn't think there was much of a difference anymore, and that the process of becoming a statewide and national candidate is corrupting, and that people with twisted motives were religifying everything, and...well, then he realized he was laying kind of a heavy trip on his 10 year old son. "Don't worry about it," he then said. Let Carl fix those problems tomorrow. Today, The DNA Vibrator has something special to celebrate.
Today, The DNA Vibrator finished a song called "A Brief History of The DNA Vibrator." And then, because DNA had some extra time to kill, the music was adapted as the new welcome mat for this website. This was the first official "new" DNA work in some time, and The DNA Vibrator was so excited about it that it went ahead and posted it even though it is not finished. The entire recording was done in the tool's office where he works, on his kick-ass Mac G5, using a couple of nice mics and Garageband. Even though this recording is tracked and mixed using Garageband, and The DNA Vibrator took advantage of some of the available software instruments (drums in particular) they are not pre-made loops. Each track is written and/or programmed by The DNA Vibrator. This will be the first recording for the upcoming DNA Vibrators release, "The Purple Headed Stranger." Hope you like it, not worried if you don't.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/11/06
The Day After The Night of the Cubby Bear Show
Before we continue the story started in the blog post 10/05/2006, we will rewind to the day before the night of the Cubby Bear show. The band had reached a new milestone: AfroDJYak had a new credit card, and it was Christmas for The DNA Vibrator and Gone Brian Vaughan in, well, December.
We found a sufficiently cool music store on the north side of Chicago, and began window shopping. When we went in, we hadn't actually formulated a plan, but in about 10 minutes, and to this day, The DNA Vibrator is not sure who suggested it, but AfroDJYak was more than willing to fork over his credit card to buy new equipment. The DNA Vibrator purchased a GK head and Trace Elliot cabinet. Nice stuff. Gone purchased a Mesa Boogie 50 Caliber. Nicer stuff. It has been so long, The DNA Vibrator doesn't remember what else was bought, but we certainly came close to AfroDJYak's limit. We spent the next year paying the card off in installments. It was some of the best money we spent.
More important than any gear, however, was the trust we had in each other. How many of your friends would drop $2000.00 on their credit card for your stuff? We never betrayed that trust. Of all the bands The DNA Vibrator has been in, the nucleus of the Coolies best embodied why people get together and form a band. We formed a brotherhood, which still manifests itself when we get together, to the aggravation of our wives.
TIP #8: Don't do this. Don't finance your other band member's equipment with a high interest rate charge card, no matter how fucking much you love each other. We were lucky, not smart, that that little shenanigan didn't make us the bitterest of enemies. Don't go into debt: use your gig money to help each band member buy new stuff.
So, later that night, we played the Cubby Bear, got royally fucked by the club, BV sold his license to a random guy he met outside the club, and we made enough money to gas up the van for the return trip home.
We spent the night at one of BV's friend's houses. Throughout the night, a snowstorm developed, and blanketed the city in about 18 inches of snow. In the morning, we were moving slowly, but by about 9 am, we looked ready to try our luck. Driving the van in the city was not bad, because by 9, traffic had already reduced the snow and ice to muddy slush. After about an hour of slow but safe driving, we made it out of the city, and were traveling on I-57 south.
For those of you unfamiliar, I-57 south is one of the major southern routes out of Chicago, and is the most direct route from Chicago back to southern Illinois. Once you are about 25 miles out of the city though, the landscape changes to stark, open farmland. It stays that way until you get south of Mt. Vernon, 300 miles away. As soon as we reached open road, conditions worsened. The temperature continued to drop throughout the morning, and what started as a messy road way, soon became a dangerously slick roadway. BV had started to nap as we left the city, and was comfortably resting as AfroDJYak and The DNA Vibrator were looking at the bleak conditions ahead. Road speed was steadily declining. In about two hours, the band was only just south of Kankakee (look on the map, you can see we weren't moving very fast).
We saw a semi trailer jack-knife. After about another 30 minutes of driving, our speed was down to between 15 to 20 miles an hour. There were fewer and fewer cars on the road. As we were passing under an overpass, as often happens when you are mildly compensating for a wind pushing your vehicle, which quickly abates under the overpass, for which you have to over steer to maintain control, the DNA Vibrator turned the wheel too quickly, and the van started to slide. It slid gracefully, the way a gelatinous walrus looks graceful in water, but cumbersome on land. AfroDJYak noted in that brief moment as life began flashing before his eyes, that The DNA Vibrator had taken one hand off the wheel, and was nipping the edge of his lips with his teeth, a habit The DNA Vibrator would fall into when near fatal accidents were about to occur. He pointed this out after years of research to The DNA Vibrator. The DNA Vibrator had enough time to say, "Hang on," which was not very good advice. Briefly, The DNA Vibrator noted that a cymbal case was poised to fall the reclining body of BV. A full cymbal case can easily weigh 80 pounds. It may not have killed him if it were to fall, but who wants to live with a collapsed lung?
Gently, DNA did the right moves: first foot off the gas, next, steer into the slide, next avoid culverts, metal posts, other cars. Thankfully, no one was near us, and as the van dreamily twisted from one side of the interstate to the other, the cymbal case rocked, but did not fall. At one point, the van was meandering sideways down the road. It actually became fun once it didn't seem like the van was going to flip over.
Finally, the van right itself, and very slowly, we continue on. As the blood started to flow to DNA's knuckles again, and AfroDJYak was beginning to lose the grin plastered on his face (the grin of "holy fuck, we coulda died, but we didn't"). Brian emerged from his sleep. "Hey, what's up guys? I thought I felt something a second ago." We laughed. Fortune favors the brave or foolish. Once again, over that unforgettable weekend, we were united as the Coolies.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/12/06
Our Sad, Collective Needs
Last night, as The DNA Vibrator wound down another day of changing the world imperceptibly, it took the time, for the first time ever, really, to surf the blogosphere. It didn't take long to come to a stark realization: Human beings are lacking something; companionship, communication, a feeling of being valued in the world, perhaps? Whatever it is, this collective psychological need is being filled by the internet. Filling this need is perhaps the most important service provided by the internet to its users. The DNA Vibrator believes this aspect of the internet was a completely unintended effect.
Some say the blogosphere is the expression of democracy that the (mostly) free flow of information allows. This myth is directly tied to the idea that the internet is fulfilling a psychological need for people. Most information on the web is not an expression of democracy; most information is expressed to further a person's, country's, corporation's, or group's own specific agenda, at the expense of other's. Some might say that in aggregate, this is still democracy, but it is not. True pursuit of democracy encourages every individual to have an equal say in decision making processes. The internet is not designed to do this. It is designed to evolve to allow those users who can purchase bandwidth, storage, ideas, etc., to develop as hubs for information seekers. This is natural, but it is not democracy. Most information on the web does not flow freely; First off, it costs, on many levels---must have a computer, or access to one; must have the time available to learn and use the computer; either must have a job in which use of the computer encourages your interest in how to access information, or must have the luxury of leisure to devote time to more esoteric pursuits. It costs, because users pay some kind of fee, whether fees are state or federal taxes for computer resources in a library, or whether it's a fee for contracted services from an internet provider. Rarely is any information provided on websites. There may be content, it may have a lot of colors and noise, but does the blog you read actually add to you as an entity and make you more enriched for spending the time you just spent? Highly unlikely.
Use this very website, for example. From its beginning, a fiction was created, an entity called The DNA Vibrator, to act as a narrative vehicle for the content being provided. It has all the tricks of seeming like it might be interesting to read, and listen to. Does The DNA Vibrator hope that you do read and listen to the stuff here? Yes, but the reason for that isn't because it will fill some gap in your life---it fills a gap in The DNA Vibrator's. Will your hoped for enjoyment of the material on this website add to your life, in some small way? DNA hopes so, again for its own selfish reasons. DNA knows that you can get your dimestore philosophy from so many other places. There are some out there who are not directly related to The DNA Vibrator who read this, so, perhaps, there is a little content hiding in here, after all.
DNA's website is perhaps not the best example. It's too innocuous. The DNA Vibrator already knows it doesn't really mean anything. But last night, The DNA Vibrator looked at hundreds of blogs, all presenting the appearance of access into others' lives through a computer screen-sized window. Most of them recycle the same sentiments in very bad personal poetry, or present a slice of life from a person, who feels the need to share this life with the rest of us. It didn't take long to realize that most of the slices of life were the same: Not uninteresting, but full of a conceit, which is that whatever it is that a person is blogging about is interesting enough, worthy enough, that it should be shared with the rest of us. Nobody cares if you bought a new dog. Nobody cares if you are totally into the show "Lost." Nobody cares if you are a has-been musician with a modicum of talent, a mediocre voice, the cumbersome wit to handle blunt sarcasm, and have a few extra bucks each month to spend to maintain a website (See---The DNA Vibrator is not being holier-than-thou. It completely includes itself in the category of "website that does not meet the test of being interesting enough").
What is this unmet need? We all "feel the need" to express part of lives. But, express to whom? How is it that for so many, expression has to take the form of a disjointed conversation, or a monologue, or a diatribe, or whatever rhetorical form the internet is demanding of its users? The internet, as it is presently being used, is not a very good form of communication. It's like a letter, only less personal. All the bullshit music, flash animation, porn, effects, that's all window-dressing. What is expressed, in the end, is no different, and actually, less direct than just about any form of communication The DNA Vibrator can think of right now. The fact that so many people derive something from the experience of blogging should tell us all that we're pretty dysfunctional. Equating a blog to communication is like equating role-playing game experiences to real life experiences. For some, the role-playing experience is the experience to be savored, not the real-life experience. Add up that equation: Self-loathing + no intimate friends + disappointment and frustration with not being who or what you had hoped to be in life = 20 hours a day playing ultima online. After reading so many blogs last night, The DNA Vibrator thinks that perhaps the answer to the above equation could also be "= writing this blog so all of you out there know I exist, and I am worth something." Are we so detached from each other that the only way that some of us can actually communicate is by not communicating? Have we confused the fiction that necessarily must be created online for the reality of our daily lives? Does this same unmet need describe the phenomena of "reality TV?" How is it that our current reality is so crappy that we sometimes prefer the presentation of someone else's reality?
Books took the translatable aspects of oral culture and put them in a form more people could use; radio and TV took the translatable aspects of print media and put them in a form more people could use. The internet took the translatable aspects of previous media and put them in a form more people could use. The price? At each step, the elements that are not translatable are lost, or forgotten, or deemed unimportant, because they do not fit the new paradigm. Some could call this a democratizing process, but it is democratizing like Wal-Mart is democratizing. If you reduce the overall value of the content being trafficked, in an effort to spread it around to more people, then perhaps you achieve one goal of democracy, homogeneity, at the expense of all other goals of democracy. The DNA Vibrator thinks that this is the root of the unmet need filled by the internet. At a gut level, people realize that the internet, blogs, mass marketed crap, governments, institutions, corporations, most organizations bigger than YOU, work directly or indirectly at lowering your expectations. About life. About everything. Your own self included. Why aren't you the next Gandhi? Why don't you end world hunger? Why don't you stop the war in Iraq? Why don't you actually go do something? Why waste any moment of your time? Can't you get something more out of your life? The DNA Vibrator is not pointing fingers, it does not want to anger or alienate you who are reading right now. It is not trying to make you feel bad, or like DNA is somehow superior to you for making these statements. In fact, The DNA Vibrator has very nearly talked itself out of writing another blog post, because it realizes that this expenditure of energy, this blog, does not really add too much to anyone's life, its own included.
The problem isn't the medium. It�s our expectation of what the medium can do. We're told by ourselves, by our experience as we look at other's work, that THIS, whatever this is, is what a blog should be, or a website should be, or LIFE should be. In the end, DNA is glad so many people are blogging. Like infinite monkeys randomly typing on infinite keyboards, eventually one of us will "get" it. Maybe it will be YOU.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/14/06
Our Happy, Collective Accomplishments
Clearly, the last post that The DNA Vibrator wrote did not dissuade it from continuing to write, nor did it dissuade any of the thousands of other bloggers or millions of readers from writing and reading. Good. Because as fucked up and pointless as most blogs are, they serve many purposes, none of which were addressed in the previous post.
Utility, cultural advancement, these are often the last goals met through a cultural tool like the internet. Sometimes, actual, real, useful information is gleaned from these pages, and certainly, one can always learn from others, even if the message is "don't do your blog like this." Since everybody's experience is unique, sometimes little things, like the use of a word, or a picture, might really be worth your time.
Certainly, DNA uses the internet everyday, so there is a certain amount of utility. However, its argument is not the internet does not have utility, it is that most blogs don't. This argument is weak, however. DNA knows it. Just wanted to see if anyone cared to debate. Since no one did, DNA will debate itself.
What about funny blogs? What about blogs that share art, pictures, music, optical illusions, educational blogs, historical blogs, blogs that archive otherwise lost information, blogs from important people with important things to say, blogs that document atrocities, blogs that give us firsthand information from war-torn areas, blogs that allow us to see medical and scientific breakthroughs? What about that, DNA Vibrator? What about that?
All true. That and more. Also, see the flaw in The DNA Vibrator's previous argument about how one medium that encompasses another translates the previous medium, but leaves the untranslatable stuff by the wayside. This simply is not true. First, no media has replaced any other. These different media exist together. In fact, it appears that there is room for a lot more, and there will be other media in the future.
Even if there is untranslatable stuff, there is so much new content that new media allows to be developed it more than makes up for what parts might be lost along the way.
The end message is the same for this post as the last one---keep typing away, keep posting your baby photos, the story about your new couch. It all adds to the cultural complexity. Every so often, art is created in those commonplace events, whether we realize it or not.
Fuck, this was a shiny happy blog post. Here's a different take: Maybe its better that we waste our time writing blogs and reading blogs and trying to be humorous or pertinent, or sharing and caring, because at least the illusion of doing something is better than the reality of nothing in your life meaning anything.
Ah, that's better.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/16/06
Dear Mr. President...
The DNA Vibrator does not know what has motivated it to do so, but last night, it wrote a long letter to the President of the United States. It also sent the letter to its senators and congressman. If DNA gets a response, it will post the response here. The DNA Vibrator does not believe its letters will actually influence the politicians to change policy, but this kind of writing is theraputic, and cheaper than a shrink. Once it gets political shit off its chest, it is free to think of more pressing matters. Of course, if DNA's letters do presage a change in policy, once again, the power of the Vibrator will be exposed.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/20/06
Today, the Internet Served its Purpose
It just so happened that through this very site, communication, actual communication, occurred between The DNA Vibrator, and an old friend of its, Orpheus Rex. Orpheus goes way back in the Carbondale music scene, was a respected player, and a damn fine writer. His byline appeared in the Carbondale Nightlife many times. He now makes the internet better for us all by being part of the new world order called yahoo!. There is no better way to bring down the man than by to subvert from the inside.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/24/06
He's Bringing Lots of Toys, For All the Punk Girls and Boys!
It has always been a desire of The DNA Vibrator to make a Christmas album, mixing standards and new material. This is not a joke. 10 years ago, it started, and wrote, "All I want For Christmas is a Whole Lotta Cash." It wrote another one, called, "Let's Put the X Back in Christmas," but it is not yet recorded. It is in the process of recording its own version of "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire." The best part of this project is that time is no object. Christmas is likely to be around for awhile. When it is done, you will see it here.
Permanent Historical Record: 11/30/06
My Political Letter
With only minor changes, here is the letter The DNA Vibrator sent to President Bush, its senators and representative. Afterwards is the official response it got back from the White House.
Dear President Bush,
Like many of my friends, I have listened to the news, read the books, and heard the experts and the common folk talk about what to do in Iraq. People get bogged down in the "why" we are there. I was one of those people until recently. It no longer matters why we are there.
I know I am not telling you or anyone else anything new here. I have thought about our situation for a long time, and begging the presumption, I would like to present to you what I have concluded.
First, the obvious American presence in Iraq is possibly fueling the terrorists' aims and the sectarian violence. Even if it is not, our enemies' propaganda machines can use our presence as their excuse to continue to perform acts of violence, and continue to stir discontent and raise doubts among people in Iraq and out of Iraq about the American mission.
Second, we must more clearly define our mission in Iraq. I have no doubt there is a clear mission among military commanders and political leaders, but it must be articulated in no nonsense terms, not in sound bites and nice sounding phrases, which don't have a lot of meaning on the ground. The American people can take it, and the entire world community will appreciate your candor. We must abandon absolute terms, like "win" or "lose" and appeal to a common sense understanding of an urban ground war. There are no winners or losers, (well, there are losers---everybody loses) objectives lose their relevance quickly, and in the end, any and every civilian death limits our ability to complete whatever mission we wish to complete.
Third, we must understand the military's continued role in Iraq. From a military point of view, home grown militias don't even blip on the radar as a threat. As a percentage of our total force in Iraq, over time, our casualty rate is extremely low, and I imagine, compared to theirs, presents a compelling argument that in a war of attrition, we win.
However, homegrown militias and terrorist action can't be beaten by traditional military force. Militias rise because of social unrest, poverty, lack of opportunity to build a better community for the future generations. Military force can not "beat" that. It can not solve a primarily political or religious conflict. Well, I take that back; military force can, but it requires total destruction and/or removal of the enemy. Since that was not our goal, the military, not surprisingly, is not "winning" this war. The military is not suited to complete the current mission in Iraq: police the country, train their people, enforce law, and heal or at least bridge religious and ethnic divisions.
How do we proceed then? Although they are the best on the planet, our military forces are like a bear, and opposition forces in Iraq are individual bees stinging the bear. From their point of view, the bees are defending their hive from the brute destructive force of the bear, which is taking something precious from them. From the bear's point of view, bees are a nuisance, nothing more. But, we are not the bear. I do not believe that our goal was to destroy Iraq or to take away what was precious from the Iraqi people. However, from their point of view, we are still acting like a bear. So our problem is to figure out how to turn our forces from acting like a bear into acting like a fox: Cunning, hidden, achieving by position what we have tried to achieve by force. There is no easy way to do this, but we can do it. The other option, a much worse option, will be to totally commit to a ground war. Since it is the least desirable option, let's discuss it now, and get it out of the way.
OPTION ONE:
Ground War: Institute a draft of all American citizens between the ages of 18-35 who meet the physical and mental requirements for military service. Raise an army of at least one million additional troops and blanket Iraq in a force the likes of which the world has never before seen. Literally encircle terrorist hot spots and kill or detain every single person who poses a threat to our force. End piecemeal war. Devote enough troops to secure and patrol borders. Secure all public utilities and major industries. Institute marshal law until the number of terrorist attacks drops to zero. Continue this presence until every child currently alive in Iraq has been taught in an American built, American taught school. It may sound like I am being sarcastic, but I am not. If we are to approach this war from the point of view that is will be "won" by us, nothing less than total commitment on our part will suffice. Therefore, I hope that we all agree, that this course of action is untenable, and that the American people simply will not agree or follow such a course of action.
OPTION TWO:
The Eventual Road to Disengagement (turning the bear into a fox):
First, terrorists must be treated as criminals, not as military forces. This has been a mistake on our part from the beginning. We should not be using the vocabulary and tools of war to punish criminal organizations. When we think "war" we limit ourselves to the options of war. We must begin changing our focus from military engagement to criminal prosecution and justice. We didn't use the military to attack Timothy McVeigh, or to find and destroy the perpetrators of the first World Trade Center bombing. Such is our situation now in Iraq. War is for toppling governments, or for opposing other military forces. Terrorists are criminals, and should be dealt with as such. Swift, equal, and effective public punishment of terrorists will deter future terrorists, and will give the population a reason to believe in its government.
Second, we have to employ Iraqis not only as police and military, but as the workforce in an Iraqi "New Deal," the goal of which is to employ every able-bodied Iraqi man and woman not currently employed to create or rebuild modern public works. These would include roads, schools, new power stations, new oil facilities, new bridges, new port facilities, EVERYTHING, from the ground up. People must either be working, or have a medical reason why they can not work. We need to do this instead of hiring multinational corporations from outside of Iraq to complete these tasks. When we give out contracts to corporations outside of Iraq, the money we spend does not get reinvested or spread through the Iraqi economy. It gets concentrated outside of the country. If Iraqis were being employed to build the things that Iraqis use, then Iraqis will be less likely to destroy them. They will be invested, in time, money, and pride, in the things they themselves have built, not the things we have built for them. For as often as conservatives have decried the effectiveness of the "welfare state," I am surprised that no one is talking about the welfare state we have created over there. No more no bid contracts to outside sources. It is counterproductive to the war effort.
Third, we must through all means necessary, secure the one for one replacement of coalition forces for pan-arabic and muslim (PAM) forces. These forces must be of mixed ethnic and religious backgrounds, and not under U.S. control, but under the control of a United Nations coordinated team of Iraqi and PAM commanders. We must cede all political authority to the elected Iraqi government, and remove our political presence; We must cede all military authority to the Iraqi government and to PAM forces.
Fourth, we must leave with no strings attached, with no Iraqi debt owed to us or any other coalition force. We must agree to continue to help fund public works, the rebuilding of roads, schools, utilities, and ports until the country functions at least as well as its pre-war status.
Fifth, we declare a new foreign policy in the region, similar to an old policy which worked very well: We will walk softly and carry a big stick. Let any power who wishes to a wage a war of words speak as long as they want. But as soon as a person is harmed or our interests are directly injured, react with immediate, massive, and deadly force.
I am not writing this to be critical of you or your administration. I wouldn't want to trade places with you. But I felt that I ought to tell you what I think. I don't expect that I am saying anything that others haven't already discussed, but, you never know.
Find a good solution to this mess. Be humble, if you must, be understanding. Change your position, if you have to. Changing doesn't mean "terrorists win," regardless of what others might say.
Sincerely,
NEXT, the first official response, from the White House:
On behalf of President Bush, thank you for your correspondence. We appreciate hearing your views and welcome your suggestions. The President is committed to continuing our economic progress, defending our freedom, and upholding our Nation's deepest values.
Due to the large volume of e-mail received, the White House cannot respond to every message. Please visit the White House website for the most up-to-date information on Presidential initiatives, current events, and topics of interest to you. In order to better receive comments from the public, a new system has been implemented. In the future please send your comments to comments@whitehouse.gov.
Thank you again for taking the time to write.
OR, in other words, "You're doing a great job, Brownie!" Or, "Malichi is the right guy for Iraq." Or, in other words, "Fuck off. You don't even deserve a form letter. Here is a form email. Now go have your little rant next to some endangered tree species while real men fight for your fucking freedom."
The DNA Vibrator hopes that more official responses will come from its other elected officials. It will be easy to judge their characters by their lack of personality or depth of bullshit.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Dramatis Personae
Included below are the many individuals who have produced music with The DNA Vibrator, and what they are doing now.
The Vehicles of The DNA Vibrator
The bands which have been vehicles of The DNA Vibrator include the Nightsoil Coolies, Monster Truck, Crank, and The DNA Vibrators.
The Nightsoil Coolies:
Drums: AfroDJYak
Bass: The DNA Vibrator
Guitar 1: Gone Brian Vaughan
Guitar 2: Fish
Vocals: The DNA Vibrator, Gone Brian Vaughan, Fish, AfroDJYak
Monster Truck (formerly Satan's Monster Truck):
Drums: Ralph
Bass: The DNA Vibrator
Guitar 1: Gone Brian Vaughan
Guitar 2: Fish
Vocals: Gone Brian Vaughan, The DNA Vibrator, Fish
Crank:
Drums: Ralph
Bass: The DNA Vibrator
Guitar 1: The Reverend
Guitar 2: The Hand of God Attachment
vocals: The Reverend, The DNA Vibrator, The Hand of God Attachment
The DNA Vibrators:
Drums: AfroDJYak/Mr. Kamikaze
Bass: The DNA Vibrator
Guitar 1: The DNA Vibrator
Guitar 2: The Hand of God Attachment
Vocals: The DNA Vibrator, The Hand of God Attachment
Computer: Mac Daddy
Computer Operator: AMiCO
Funk: Carlito
BIOS OF THE COLLABORATORS:
AfroDJYak/Mr. Kamikaze
The first shot is of AfroDJYak/Mr. Kamikaze, when he was young and innocent. Before the incident with the priest. Judas Priest, that is! The second shot is him stuck with the DNA Vibrator til the end. Note the look in his eyes---its the resignation of the damned.
BIO: AfroDJYak, or more recently christened Mr. Kamikaze. AKA "Tony;" "Aim-One;" "Bony;" "Reuben." Among many others.
AfroDJYak is perhaps the best naturally talented drummer The DNA Vibrator has played with. His Dad was a jazz drummer. The current set of drums he plays was his father's. At one time, the flower pattern on his old drum set matched one of his cars. AfroDJYak might not have picked up those sticks those many years ago if The DNA Vibrator hadn't continually pestered him.
Bands: The Watch, 1987-1988; The Nightsoil Coolies, 1988-1991; The Blue Meanies, 1991-1995; Skorbica, 1994-1995; The J. Davis Trio, 1996-1999; Taylor, 1996-2000; The DNA Vibrators, 1995-present; Nonagon, 2003-present. AfroDJYak has appeared on many recordings and with artists and producers as varied as Norah Jones and Steve Albini. Yes, he actually is pretty damned good.
Current projects: running a skateboard distribution business, raising Bruno and Isabella with his lovely wife Annie; Nonagon, a band; cars, especially his tricked out Volvo wagon. No joke.
Turn ons: Skateboards, skateboarding, cool cars, playing out live.
Turn offs: Hates it when freeloaders stay at his house just because they think they are friends.
The DNA Vibrator
The first picture is from a show done with Crank. Note the lime green spider of a bass guitar. Now you can see The DNA Vibrator has favored that color for a long time. It is the color of poison, disorder, and cool black light effects. The DNA Vibrator made this bass, along with many others, several years ago. It was sold to further the tool's annoying habit of having to eat. The second picture is from the infamous 4th of July, 2005 bash at Craig and Bert's. The DNA Vibrator is "grey, fat and older." [lyrics from the song, a "Fistful of Cleveland"]. However, The DNA Vibrator, like John Henry, who knew he was obsolete, still keeps fucking pounding away at that bass. The DNA Vibrator also made this bass. It was the first, and best, one. Originally black, refinished gold for this show.
BIO: The DNA Vibrator. AKA "The Professor;" "Rocket;" "The Tool."
Classically trained at a young age, the tool turned down scholarships to prestigious music schools. The tool taught himself to play on an old Kay upright double bass. Rock and roll has since bled out any real proficiency on the instrument, but The DNA Vibrator works with what little talent the tool has.
Bands: The Rage, 1981-1984; The Watch, 1987-1988; The Nightsoil Coolies, 1988-1991; Monster Truck, 1991-1993; Crank, 1993-1997; The DNA Vibrators, 1995-present, The Akkademiks, 2007-present. Also guested on unreleased work of the band, IT, with Scott Munson, Todd Freeman, and Bill Lancaster.
Current projects: building three children, a domicile, and a marriage; the continued expression of the DNA Vibrator; The Akkademiks.
Turn ons: Chaos, disorder, tension. Extremely loud low frequency noise.
Turn offs: Being ticketed for stereo violations; crashing a car and being late for a gig. Becoming a computer geek.
Gone Brian Vaughan
Brian pictured ripping it up during the very last show the Coolies played, at Gatsby's, in Carbondale, in the spring of 1991.
BIO: Gone Brian Vaughan. AKA "Brian;" "Brain;" "The Song Engine."
Bri was the poetic glue which held the Coolies together. He had a natural turn of phrase and effable ease which made him friend to many, enemy to none. Brian put up with a lot of crap from The DNA Vibrator while in the Coolies and Monster Truck, and the resulitng guilt has made The DNA Vibrator publicily point that out ever since the band split.
Bands: The Nightsoil Coolies, 1988-1991; Monster Truck, 1991-1993; Girls With Tools, 1993-1995; Slippery Jill, 1996-1998; The Baltimores, 1998-2000.
Current projects: New house, wonderful children and wife, Jennie. The DNA Vibrator has never really known what Brian does, but it is sure he does it pretty damn well.
Turn ons: BV, help me out.
Turn offs: Ditto.
Fish
Fish was elusive. There were few pictures given to The DNA Vibrator which featured him. This was one. If you have photos of fish in action, send them here.
BIO: Fish. AKA "Fish."
Fish was in several bands in the Decatur area, and then moved to Carbondale to school. Because the Coolies knew of Fish through Brian, and through their friendship with Charlie, Tom and Eric of the band, Tea Party, they knew that Fish was a great guitar player and singer. So, when Fish got settled into school, the Coolies pretty much told him that he was in the band. The Coolies had kicked themselves for not snapping up Jim Coolie (no relation) when he had left his former band, and were not going to let another top notch guitarist get away.
Bands: The Eyrie Gators, 1988-1990; The Nightsoil Coolies, 1990-1991; Monster Truck, 1991-1993; The Ticks, 1993-1995.
Current projects: Wonderful family, internet business. Fish, give me more stuff to work with here.
Turn ons: Fish, help me out.
Turn offs: Ditto.
The Reverend
This is Spurt circa 1993-94, with his beautiful Rickenbacher. Usually this pose meant that he had a lot to drink, that he was making kick-ass noise, and at any moment, he was going to get a drumstick or a beer bottle and start going crazy on that purty red guitar.
BIO: The Reverend. AKA "Scott;" "Scotch;" "Scotty;" "Spurt;" "Furt."
Spurt, part Aztec, part sand pit volleyball champ, part Vonnegut, and part Hunter S. Thompson. He was also part of one of Carbondale's finest, the band 138. Before forming Crank, Spurt and The DNA Vibrator fervently worked on Thomas Pynchon novels in school and on an attempt to play The Minutmen's "Double Nickles on a Dime" in its entirety. This led to a partnership with Ralph, and before long, Dave completed the foursome, and Crank was born. Spurt has long wandered through the groves of academe, cuz that's where all the pussy is.
Bands: 138, 1987-1990; Crank, 1993-1997.
Current projects: a new baby, a new house in a new town, and a new job; continues to showcase his amazing writing skills at places like 100 Words. Still plays. Most recent muscial work: a contribution to a cancer society benefit CD with the help of his old pals the Hand of God Attachment and The DNA Vibrator, and wunderkind drummer, Bill Lancaster. Hear a bit of his work on IT's album, "Order Through Chaos." Spurt is the webmaster for the CRANK myspace page.
Turn ons: Books, booze, and ass.
Turn offs: Bills, bum knees, and assholes.
The Hand of God Attachment
This picture shows Dave in the full glory of the Hand of God Attachment. This picture, too, was from the infamous 4th of July 2005 party. A reunion, of sorts, a farewell, too, as more of the old band has taken to the winds. This picture also features Dave's Washburn guitar which was the same beast heard on the song, "God Made Us Funky." The second picture is Dave circa 1994, at the Cabaret Metro in Chicago.
BIO: The Hand of God Attachment. AKA "Dave."
Dave is one of those musicians who actually has talent. Trained on classical guitar at the SIU school of music under the tutelage of Joseph Breznikar, one of the living masters. Thank God that Dave likes alcohol and Judas Priest, or Carbondale would never have been blessed by his sick gift. Never one for guitar pyrotechnics, but able to produce it when he wants, The Hand of God Attachment works best in subtle ways. Once, while playing a show in Crank, someone asked if the band knew more than three chords. Dave said, "I know several hundred, but that's not the point."
Bands: Nice boys From Good Homes, 138, Crank, Girls With Tools, The DNA Vibrators (many others---Dave has to help The DNA Vibrator fill this in---Dave is a guitar whore, and all of the bands from Carbondale are his johns).
Current projects: a wonderful family; teaching guitar to children; managing a home rentals business; guesting on the super-double-top-secrect project The DNA Vibrator is working on.
Turn ons: ? Dave, The DNA Vibrator needs your help with this.
Turn offs: ? ditto.
Ralph
Ralph in action at the 4th of July 2005 reunion show. Ralph was always known for the sound pressure he generated from his drums. He hit them harder than just about any other drummer The DNA Vibrator has had the luck to play with. Since Ralph had to compete with three others who loved their stage volume loud, it made for a perfect match.
BIO: Ralph. AKA "Ralph."
Ralph was part of one of the first and best of the '90's Carbondale bands, Fusebox. Ralph is steeped in the old blues tradition, and although Crank rarely dipped into that tradition directly, Ralph's sensibility allowed the other twisted fuckers to go off in many different directions.
Bands: Fusebox, Crank, Fingercuff, and Electric Honey.
Current projects: He and his wonderful wife are expecting a baby; Ralph continues to write music and play in the band Electric Honey; Ralph also has a real job as a university professor.
Turn ons: Sunn Records, Mussel Shoals, Southern blues and rock (Ralph, email the rest!)
Turn offs: Big fuckin' hurricanes which destroy the city you love.
The Nightsoil Coolies
The Nightsoil Coolies reaped the benefit of being around a bunch of artistic people. This picture and many others were taken by Annie, who not only had the knack of taking good pictures of things, but also had the patience to work with the Coolies. She liked them so much, she married the drummer. This picture was taken in Carbondale, in 1988, in front of the Coolies' house on Forest Street. Below that is a flyer for one of their shows.
Pictured:
Gone Brian Vaughan--------AfroDJYak----------The DNA Vibrator
Monster Truck
Monster Truck was kind of an interim band, although they produced many terrific songs which stand on their own. However, the band never had a press kit, per se, so there were few pictures of them in The DNA Vibrator's possession. However, the tool still kept some of the band's flyers.
CRANK
CRANK in its top form, circa 1994. On a flyer made by The DNA Vibrator, There was a caption above each person:
The DNA Vibrator--The Hand of God Attachment--The Reverend--Ralph
Where's my dick?---I'm the Manson-like Savior figure--Meanness is hip, so fuck you----I'm really uncomfortable with this
The DNA Vibrators
No one took pictures of The DNA Vibrators when they were actually playing, because they were stunned, too transfixed to actually snap the shutter of a camera. So, in place of a live shot of the band, The DNA Vibrator presents the graphic off of the cover of the first release of The DNA Vibrators, Twin Rockets Are A Go, Baby!
Return To The Top of the Page
The Vehicles of The DNA Vibrator
The bands which have been vehicles of The DNA Vibrator include the Nightsoil Coolies, Monster Truck, Crank, and The DNA Vibrators.
The Nightsoil Coolies:
Drums: AfroDJYak
Bass: The DNA Vibrator
Guitar 1: Gone Brian Vaughan
Guitar 2: Fish
Vocals: The DNA Vibrator, Gone Brian Vaughan, Fish, AfroDJYak
Monster Truck (formerly Satan's Monster Truck):
Drums: Ralph
Bass: The DNA Vibrator
Guitar 1: Gone Brian Vaughan
Guitar 2: Fish
Vocals: Gone Brian Vaughan, The DNA Vibrator, Fish
Crank:
Drums: Ralph
Bass: The DNA Vibrator
Guitar 1: The Reverend
Guitar 2: The Hand of God Attachment
vocals: The Reverend, The DNA Vibrator, The Hand of God Attachment
The DNA Vibrators:
Drums: AfroDJYak/Mr. Kamikaze
Bass: The DNA Vibrator
Guitar 1: The DNA Vibrator
Guitar 2: The Hand of God Attachment
Vocals: The DNA Vibrator, The Hand of God Attachment
Computer: Mac Daddy
Computer Operator: AMiCO
Funk: Carlito
BIOS OF THE COLLABORATORS:
AfroDJYak/Mr. Kamikaze
The first shot is of AfroDJYak/Mr. Kamikaze, when he was young and innocent. Before the incident with the priest. Judas Priest, that is! The second shot is him stuck with the DNA Vibrator til the end. Note the look in his eyes---its the resignation of the damned.
BIO: AfroDJYak, or more recently christened Mr. Kamikaze. AKA "Tony;" "Aim-One;" "Bony;" "Reuben." Among many others.
AfroDJYak is perhaps the best naturally talented drummer The DNA Vibrator has played with. His Dad was a jazz drummer. The current set of drums he plays was his father's. At one time, the flower pattern on his old drum set matched one of his cars. AfroDJYak might not have picked up those sticks those many years ago if The DNA Vibrator hadn't continually pestered him.
Bands: The Watch, 1987-1988; The Nightsoil Coolies, 1988-1991; The Blue Meanies, 1991-1995; Skorbica, 1994-1995; The J. Davis Trio, 1996-1999; Taylor, 1996-2000; The DNA Vibrators, 1995-present; Nonagon, 2003-present. AfroDJYak has appeared on many recordings and with artists and producers as varied as Norah Jones and Steve Albini. Yes, he actually is pretty damned good.
Current projects: running a skateboard distribution business, raising Bruno and Isabella with his lovely wife Annie; Nonagon, a band; cars, especially his tricked out Volvo wagon. No joke.
Turn ons: Skateboards, skateboarding, cool cars, playing out live.
Turn offs: Hates it when freeloaders stay at his house just because they think they are friends.
The DNA Vibrator
The first picture is from a show done with Crank. Note the lime green spider of a bass guitar. Now you can see The DNA Vibrator has favored that color for a long time. It is the color of poison, disorder, and cool black light effects. The DNA Vibrator made this bass, along with many others, several years ago. It was sold to further the tool's annoying habit of having to eat. The second picture is from the infamous 4th of July, 2005 bash at Craig and Bert's. The DNA Vibrator is "grey, fat and older." [lyrics from the song, a "Fistful of Cleveland"]. However, The DNA Vibrator, like John Henry, who knew he was obsolete, still keeps fucking pounding away at that bass. The DNA Vibrator also made this bass. It was the first, and best, one. Originally black, refinished gold for this show.
BIO: The DNA Vibrator. AKA "The Professor;" "Rocket;" "The Tool."
Classically trained at a young age, the tool turned down scholarships to prestigious music schools. The tool taught himself to play on an old Kay upright double bass. Rock and roll has since bled out any real proficiency on the instrument, but The DNA Vibrator works with what little talent the tool has.
Bands: The Rage, 1981-1984; The Watch, 1987-1988; The Nightsoil Coolies, 1988-1991; Monster Truck, 1991-1993; Crank, 1993-1997; The DNA Vibrators, 1995-present, The Akkademiks, 2007-present. Also guested on unreleased work of the band, IT, with Scott Munson, Todd Freeman, and Bill Lancaster.
Current projects: building three children, a domicile, and a marriage; the continued expression of the DNA Vibrator; The Akkademiks.
Turn ons: Chaos, disorder, tension. Extremely loud low frequency noise.
Turn offs: Being ticketed for stereo violations; crashing a car and being late for a gig. Becoming a computer geek.
Gone Brian Vaughan
Brian pictured ripping it up during the very last show the Coolies played, at Gatsby's, in Carbondale, in the spring of 1991.
BIO: Gone Brian Vaughan. AKA "Brian;" "Brain;" "The Song Engine."
Bri was the poetic glue which held the Coolies together. He had a natural turn of phrase and effable ease which made him friend to many, enemy to none. Brian put up with a lot of crap from The DNA Vibrator while in the Coolies and Monster Truck, and the resulitng guilt has made The DNA Vibrator publicily point that out ever since the band split.
Bands: The Nightsoil Coolies, 1988-1991; Monster Truck, 1991-1993; Girls With Tools, 1993-1995; Slippery Jill, 1996-1998; The Baltimores, 1998-2000.
Current projects: New house, wonderful children and wife, Jennie. The DNA Vibrator has never really known what Brian does, but it is sure he does it pretty damn well.
Turn ons: BV, help me out.
Turn offs: Ditto.
Fish
Fish was elusive. There were few pictures given to The DNA Vibrator which featured him. This was one. If you have photos of fish in action, send them here.
BIO: Fish. AKA "Fish."
Fish was in several bands in the Decatur area, and then moved to Carbondale to school. Because the Coolies knew of Fish through Brian, and through their friendship with Charlie, Tom and Eric of the band, Tea Party, they knew that Fish was a great guitar player and singer. So, when Fish got settled into school, the Coolies pretty much told him that he was in the band. The Coolies had kicked themselves for not snapping up Jim Coolie (no relation) when he had left his former band, and were not going to let another top notch guitarist get away.
Bands: The Eyrie Gators, 1988-1990; The Nightsoil Coolies, 1990-1991; Monster Truck, 1991-1993; The Ticks, 1993-1995.
Current projects: Wonderful family, internet business. Fish, give me more stuff to work with here.
Turn ons: Fish, help me out.
Turn offs: Ditto.
The Reverend
This is Spurt circa 1993-94, with his beautiful Rickenbacher. Usually this pose meant that he had a lot to drink, that he was making kick-ass noise, and at any moment, he was going to get a drumstick or a beer bottle and start going crazy on that purty red guitar.
BIO: The Reverend. AKA "Scott;" "Scotch;" "Scotty;" "Spurt;" "Furt."
Spurt, part Aztec, part sand pit volleyball champ, part Vonnegut, and part Hunter S. Thompson. He was also part of one of Carbondale's finest, the band 138. Before forming Crank, Spurt and The DNA Vibrator fervently worked on Thomas Pynchon novels in school and on an attempt to play The Minutmen's "Double Nickles on a Dime" in its entirety. This led to a partnership with Ralph, and before long, Dave completed the foursome, and Crank was born. Spurt has long wandered through the groves of academe, cuz that's where all the pussy is.
Bands: 138, 1987-1990; Crank, 1993-1997.
Current projects: a new baby, a new house in a new town, and a new job; continues to showcase his amazing writing skills at places like 100 Words. Still plays. Most recent muscial work: a contribution to a cancer society benefit CD with the help of his old pals the Hand of God Attachment and The DNA Vibrator, and wunderkind drummer, Bill Lancaster. Hear a bit of his work on IT's album, "Order Through Chaos." Spurt is the webmaster for the CRANK myspace page.
Turn ons: Books, booze, and ass.
Turn offs: Bills, bum knees, and assholes.
The Hand of God Attachment
This picture shows Dave in the full glory of the Hand of God Attachment. This picture, too, was from the infamous 4th of July 2005 party. A reunion, of sorts, a farewell, too, as more of the old band has taken to the winds. This picture also features Dave's Washburn guitar which was the same beast heard on the song, "God Made Us Funky." The second picture is Dave circa 1994, at the Cabaret Metro in Chicago.
BIO: The Hand of God Attachment. AKA "Dave."
Dave is one of those musicians who actually has talent. Trained on classical guitar at the SIU school of music under the tutelage of Joseph Breznikar, one of the living masters. Thank God that Dave likes alcohol and Judas Priest, or Carbondale would never have been blessed by his sick gift. Never one for guitar pyrotechnics, but able to produce it when he wants, The Hand of God Attachment works best in subtle ways. Once, while playing a show in Crank, someone asked if the band knew more than three chords. Dave said, "I know several hundred, but that's not the point."
Bands: Nice boys From Good Homes, 138, Crank, Girls With Tools, The DNA Vibrators (many others---Dave has to help The DNA Vibrator fill this in---Dave is a guitar whore, and all of the bands from Carbondale are his johns).
Current projects: a wonderful family; teaching guitar to children; managing a home rentals business; guesting on the super-double-top-secrect project The DNA Vibrator is working on.
Turn ons: ? Dave, The DNA Vibrator needs your help with this.
Turn offs: ? ditto.
Ralph
Ralph in action at the 4th of July 2005 reunion show. Ralph was always known for the sound pressure he generated from his drums. He hit them harder than just about any other drummer The DNA Vibrator has had the luck to play with. Since Ralph had to compete with three others who loved their stage volume loud, it made for a perfect match.
BIO: Ralph. AKA "Ralph."
Ralph was part of one of the first and best of the '90's Carbondale bands, Fusebox. Ralph is steeped in the old blues tradition, and although Crank rarely dipped into that tradition directly, Ralph's sensibility allowed the other twisted fuckers to go off in many different directions.
Bands: Fusebox, Crank, Fingercuff, and Electric Honey.
Current projects: He and his wonderful wife are expecting a baby; Ralph continues to write music and play in the band Electric Honey; Ralph also has a real job as a university professor.
Turn ons: Sunn Records, Mussel Shoals, Southern blues and rock (Ralph, email the rest!)
Turn offs: Big fuckin' hurricanes which destroy the city you love.
The Nightsoil Coolies
The Nightsoil Coolies reaped the benefit of being around a bunch of artistic people. This picture and many others were taken by Annie, who not only had the knack of taking good pictures of things, but also had the patience to work with the Coolies. She liked them so much, she married the drummer. This picture was taken in Carbondale, in 1988, in front of the Coolies' house on Forest Street. Below that is a flyer for one of their shows.
Pictured:
Gone Brian Vaughan--------AfroDJYak----------The DNA Vibrator
Monster Truck
Monster Truck was kind of an interim band, although they produced many terrific songs which stand on their own. However, the band never had a press kit, per se, so there were few pictures of them in The DNA Vibrator's possession. However, the tool still kept some of the band's flyers.
CRANK
CRANK in its top form, circa 1994. On a flyer made by The DNA Vibrator, There was a caption above each person:
The DNA Vibrator--The Hand of God Attachment--The Reverend--Ralph
Where's my dick?---I'm the Manson-like Savior figure--Meanness is hip, so fuck you----I'm really uncomfortable with this
The DNA Vibrators
No one took pictures of The DNA Vibrators when they were actually playing, because they were stunned, too transfixed to actually snap the shutter of a camera. So, in place of a live shot of the band, The DNA Vibrator presents the graphic off of the cover of the first release of The DNA Vibrators, Twin Rockets Are A Go, Baby!
Return To The Top of the Page
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
